~CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT~
Why am I so afraid of this man?
He isn’t a saint. I know that. He cheated first. I know he still does. And yet here I am—heart racing, palms damp, like I’m the one who committed the greater crime.
I straighten my shoulders and meet his gaze.
“I don’t know,” I say, steady on the outside. “It could be anybody. Why are you getting worked up over a piece of paper?”
I take the note from his hand.
For a split second, I think he might grab my wrist. Crush it. Demand the truth.
He doesn’t.
But I feel it anyway—the heat under his skin, the restraint stretched thin. His jaw tightens, his eyes darken.
And somehow that’s uneasy.
I watch his back as he moves through the room, retrieving whatever made him return in the first place. His movements are controlled, precise—li
