“Hayes, is Dr. Montague unwilling to help us?” she murmured. “It’s my fault for forgetting to make an appointment. I didn’t mean to waste your time.”
Hayes didn’t pull away from her touch. Instead, he reached out and pinched her cheek playfully.
“I have time,” he said, his voice gentle, too gentle. “If she doesn’t want to help, it’s fine. I’ll wait with you.”
Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering something meant only for her.
The warmth between them was suffocating.
I didn’t know what hurt more—the fact that he had never been this gentle with me, or the fact that I once believed he could be.
There was a time when he would go out of his way to make me smile. When he’d spend his last dollar on a necklace I liked, promising me that whatever any other woman had, I’d have it too.
He used to come home worn out, his body spent from climbing the corporate ladder. But no matter how tired he was, he’d always make time for me. He’d still talk to me, still listen.
He used to tell me those late-night conversations with me made him feel alive.
And now?
Now, we barely exchanged words.