13
After the garage door shut and Margot drove away, Lucas slowly went back into the house, shoulders drooping. There must have been something he could have done to prevent her from leaving, but damn him if he could think of what it might be.
As he entered the kitchen, his gaze fell on the glazed mug she’d used for her tea, still sitting on the counter next to the sink. He went over and picked it up, pressed his lips against the faint trace of the lipstick she’d left there, as if he could somehow recover some of the warmth of her touch by doing so. But the ceramic was cold and hard under his lips, and he shut his eyes, then growled, “f**k!” before hurling the mug against the wall and watching it shatter into hundreds of pieces.
“Lucky” Lucas, his a*s.
Hands clenched into fists, he left
