Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Chapter 458

Sheila opened the door, surprised to find Timothy standing there.

"Timothy, come in. Have a seat."

She reached out, ready to steady him, but Timothy sidestepped her hand. "I can walk on my own."

His sudden coldness stung in a way Sheila couldn't quite put into words. Still, she swallowed her discomfort.

"I'll make you some coffee."

"No need. I won't be staying long."

Sheila felt even more at a loss. What was he here for, then?

Timothy settled into the living room armchair. "Sit down."

Uneasy, Sheila perched on the edge of the couch.

Looking directly at her, Timothy got right to the point. "I just stopped by Ines's studio. From her, I learned that the reason she gave that painting, The Grand Canal, Venice, to Henry, was because she saw Jessy's style in one of Henry's papercut illustrations. So, that painting can't stay with you. I'm here to take it back."

Sheila stared at him, stunned.

This was the first time he'd ever asked to take back something he'd given her.

He really was starting to care more about Jessica.

But she didn't argue. "I see. Since it's hard for you to get around, I'll have someone bring it to you later."

have someone pick it up. Also, about Henry calling you his mother in public-please correct him

it felt to Sheila as though everything had changed in

forced herself to keep

apart. I used to think she could understand our relationship, but I've realized recently that she can't. I hope you won't be offended about me taking the painting

small, strained smile. "Timothy,

getting any younger. I hope you'll consider

froze, her

do you realize

"I do."

me, then I'm your aunt—and as your

her, they were equals. But if he refused her now, she

Sandra and Abell's

lingered on her,

time Sheila had ever used

displeasure, she said quietly, "Sorry. We grew up together, almost as equals, so

up back then? For seven years, I

"All these years, I've racked my brain looking for ways to solve our problem, to bridge what separated us. Why, when

voice broke

seven years ago—-the one who'd defied his family for her, determined to marry her, no

you. You promised me, even if we got married, we'd keep it secret-that was your promise,

"That wasn't love."

Sheila felt herself unraveling.

clung to, all these years. She'd waited for him-waited until she was thirty, still a virgin, never

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