I might’ve believed him—if it weren’t for the lipstick stain on his collarbone.
“What’s the meaning of this? Are you trying to disgust me on purpose? Where are our wedding photos?” Danny’s voice was sharp, furious, his bloodshot eyes locked on the empty wall.
“They’re gone.”
He froze, his body stiffening for a beat before his hands started to shake. “I’m exhausted. Why do you always have to make everything a scene?
“Fine, I was wrong, okay? I’ll apologize. Just… put the pictures back.
“I don’t care about her. I was only helping Mia finish her wish list.”
For a while, I’d believed that too.
Cooking her cream soup when her stomach hurt.
Spending an entire blackout cuddled up with her.
Taking her to the amusement park I’d always wanted to visit.
Even tagging along to a lingerie store and helping her pick out bras.
All of it was on Mia’s thirty-three-item wish list—the one she’d sent me, neat and explicit, before withdrawing it with some lame excuse about “sending it by mistake.”
That was when it hit me: there was nothing innocent about any of this.
“The cleaner took care of them,” I said, meaning the photos.
Danny’s expression cracked.
“You can always take new ones,” I added with a faint smile.
His face softened, and his warm hand landed on my shoulder. “Good. We’ll take even better ones next time.”
He had no clue I meant him and Mia.
The awkward silence shattered with the buzz of my phone.
It was a real estate agent calling to confirm if I was serious about selling. Apparently, pricing the properties at half their market value had caught some attention.
