“Yes, damn it”
I studied her face for another second before speaking again.
“Because from where I’m standing,” I said slowly, “it looks a hell of a lot more like tension than irritation.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
Her silence answered that better than words could have. Something dark twisted inside my chest. Because the memory of her voice sayingbabyinto that phone still echoed in my head.And the thought of some other man hearing that tone from her made my temper crawl dangerously close to the surface.
“Who the fuck was that?”
Her jaw tightened again.
“I’m not answering that.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t owe you an answer,” she said. “I have no obligation to explain this to you.”
Owe.
The word dragged five years of unresolved history back into the room.
“You owe me honesty,” I said.
Her laugh came out sharp. “You lost the right to demand honesty from me the moment you lied to my face for months.”
That hit exactly where it should have. But it didn’t change the question burning in my chest. I took another step closer before I could stop myself. Her breath caught. Just for a second. And that small reaction hit me harder than it should have.
“Still the same,” I murmured.
“What?”
“Your body react exactly the way you used to.”
Her eyes darkened.
“You’re imagining things again.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
“I’m not.”
“You fucking are.”
Her breathing grew uneven for a moment before she forced it back under control.
“Let me leave,” she said.
The request carried more tension than anger now. But I didn’t move aside. Not yet. Because standing this close to her again after these years felt like touching something I had spent too long convincing myself I had forgotten.
“You think this is easy for me?” I asked suddenly.
She looked up at me.
“I don’t care if it is. I moved on.”
