Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Timothy's gaze was dark and unreadable as he stared at her.

A heartbeat later, he grabbed her hand and led her firmly down the hallway.

They rode the elevator in silence, straight to the top floor.

Jessica let herself be pulled along, passive, until they entered the penthouse suite.

Once inside, Timothy pressed her gently down onto the sofa. He crouched in front of her, eyes intense. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

His voice was low and a little rough around the edges.

Jessica looked down at him—a man in a perfectly tailored suit, always so composed and charismatic, effortlessly charming. Once, she'd found that impossible to resist.

Now, she had no desire left to love him.

She raised her hand, voice flat. "Didn't feel like it."

An unmistakable shadow of annoyance flickered in Timothy's dark eyes.

"You never used to act like this."

through the

really set on this

smooth baritone had a

a scene," she answered

in frustration. He paced the luxurious carpet, then crouched

he said, jaw tight. "Seven years of marriage—we've always been like

hesitated. From inside his jacket, Timothy pulled out a velvet box, flipped it open, and held it out

at the airport and thought it would suit you. I meant to bring it over, but there was a thunderstorm in Capital City and my flight was delayed. When I finally got your call for help, I—" Timothy stopped. He didn't say that he'd rushed to her side, only to arrive too late. That he'd

considerate. Surely, she wouldn't hold a petty grudge

tone, almost coaxing her. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. That's on me. But please take

sincere. His voice

just gave him a mocking

total. Today, Sheila wore one;

now he was offering Jessica one of those castoffs, hoping to

over.

what she was worth to him? Only what was