"I'm sorry, Mia. I just thought that if I were in your place, I would want to know if my husband spoke about me that way to outsiders."
The words landed like a bucket of ice water poured over my skull, seeping through skin and bone until it reached the marrow. My vision blurred. My hands went numb in my lap.
So this was what my husband truly thought of me.
I gave a teary smile and shook my head slowly.
"Thank you."
At that moment my phone rang. Xavier Salvatore's name glowed on the screen like a warning.
"Mia, did you leave early today?" His voice carried the veneer of concern, thin as gold leaf over rot. "You're working too much when you're already in your second trimester. Didn't I tell you to step back from the office? I'm not even sure you ate breakfast this morning, because when I woke up there was nothing prepared for me."
The concern curdled into displeasure by the end of the sentence. I offered nothing but a quiet hum, and he continued, filling my silence with his own noise.
Then he paused, and his tone shifted, almost tentative.
"Even though I couldn't make it to the anniversary dinner, I got a gift for you."
"Did you." It was not a question. It was a stone dropped into still water.