His hand was still as warm as she remembered as he tugged her to his side.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come back,” she heard him say, even though he was speaking low in the soothing tone she’d grown accustomed to. “I’m really angry at myself more than I am at you,” he paused, casting his eyes down. “I actually wrote to you after six months. But the lady’s daughter is the one who replied to me telling me you moved and she didn’t have an address for you. I should’ve come to find you then, but,” he paused again, turning to look at her but failing to meet her eyes. “Something held me back.”
She was surprised to hear him say that he had written to her, that he had reached out at all. She was sure that they were only associates for the time they lived in the mansion together, but after that, despit
