Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Chapter 439

He couldn't afford to back himself into a corner.

So he stepped aside and let her pass.

Jessica swept into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood. With a sharp bang, she slammed the door shut behind her.

A wave of helplessness washed over Timothy.

He remembered how easily she'd agreed to marry him all those years ago. Back then, winning her hand had been effortless. She'd always been so quiet, so undemanding-until she lost her temper. When she did, coaxing her back was nearly impossible.

Ever since she started this latest argument, he hadn't managed to comfort her, not even once.

The only time she'd softened was on her birthday, and even then, it lasted just a couple of days before she stormed out again.

Frustrated and restless, Timothy left The Gilded Whisper Estates and got into his car. He pulled out his phone and called Yates Bryant.

"Want to get a drink?" Yates chuckled. "Are you out of your mind? It's not dinner, it's not even evening-it's the middle of the afternoon. Shouldn't we be having tea, not whiskey?"

"I need a drink," Timothy replied.

"Well, I don't," Yates said flatly. "Not in the mood."

"I'm in a lousy mood. Can't you keep me company, just this once?"

Something in Timothy's voice made it clear he was at a low point.

Yates sighed. "Fine, fine. Since you're about to get dumped, I'll do you a favor and join you."

"Anywhere you want. My treat.”

"How about The Velvet Ivy? I'm nearby."

Timothy instructed his driver to head to The Velvet Ivy. The place was across town, so it took nearly half an hour to get there. As they neared the entrance, Timothy sent Yates a quick text.

he was already waiting in a private

Ivy, Timothy stepped out-and immediately spotted the Bentley Jessica had been chasing

owner was here,

his phone and called his

plate for

the same time, Jessica was messaging Vince, asking him to look into the

car.

Bentley once more, Timothy ended the call and

private suite. Yates glanced

the surgery. Shouldn't be much longer

been as bad as it could have been. Four to eight weeks on crutches, the doctor said,

"So, what's got you in such a

with a wry smile.

I can't

just that—she actually had

talk? She's

nodded. "Some trauma when she was a kid. Caused

could help her?" Yates

Timothy's face clouded. "No."

on her

"Yeah," Timothy said quietly.

yet. Are you sure you should be drinking?

just have a little. Helps

before he could take a sip, Yates shook his head. "You're something else, you know that? She lost her voice for years, married you for seven, and you never

you to have a drink, to help me forget my troubles. Why are you rubbing salt in the

other forever, I'm not here to sugarcoat things and make you feel better. There are plenty of people who'll do that. But nice words won't solve your problems, will

glass against Timothy's and took a slow

moment. "You've got perspective. Tell me, what can I do

down. "You

grumbled. "Of

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