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He closes his eyes and mutters, “Goddammit, woman.” “Hey, if you wanted a mouse for a wife, you should’ve married one. Talk to me, Callum. Please tell me what the hell is going on.” He scrubs a hand over his face, runs it through his hair, and sighs heavily. “What’s going on is that I have to leave for work. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. That’s all I can tell you.” “All you want to tell me, you mean.” My hurt must echo in my voice, because he looks at me for a brief, intense moment, before closing the space between us and taking my face in his hands. “You have to trust me,” he says urgently, gazing deep into my eyes. “My trust is earned, not dispensed on demand.” “Then at least cut me some slack until you can trust me.” “Why should I? Your dad obviously thinks I’m in some kind of
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