My throat closed.
She gave me the smallest smile.
It wasn’t happy.
It cut.
“Because we both know that’s not true.”
She moved toward the door.
It opened before she reached it.
Georgia stood there with a coffee tray in one hand and a paper bag tucked against her hip.
She stopped.
Her eyes moved from Destiny to me.
Then back again.
The room went cold.
Georgia knew.
Not the details. Not the dirty thoughts still burning under my skin. Not the way I had imagined Destiny’s hair in my hands or her touch on my body while my fiancée was out buying coffee.
But she knew enough.
Women always did.
“I brought breakfast,” Georgia said.
Her voice was bright.
Too bright.
Destiny stepped aside immediately, professional mask back in place so fast it almost hurt to watch.
“His vitals are stable,” she said. “Pain is elevated. I’ll update the nurse.”
Georgia nodded.
“Thank you.”
Civil.
Awful.
Destiny looked at me one last time.
I tried not to look back like a starving man.
Failed.
Georgia saw.
Of course she saw.
