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."

fingers danced dismissively through the air. "Like you said, that

you're really set on this

a hard edge,

scene," she answered quietly, her

stood abruptly, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He paced the luxurious carpet, then crouched again in

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

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

brooch 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

always been the perfect wife-gracious, considerate. Surely, she wouldn't hold a petty

for you. That's on me. But please take the gift, and let's

sounded sincere. His voice was

just gave him

Today, Sheila wore one; the rest, no doubt,

he was offering Jessica one of

over.

to him? Only what was left