“Are you okay?” He slides his other hand from my chest to wrap it around my neck. “I am now.” “You lied about being hurt?” I ask with a ball lodged in my throat. “I never said I was. I just mentioned that I was not okay.” “You clearly are.” “No, I’m not. I’m lonely without you, baby.” I suppress a smile. “I thought you said you didn’t want to see, and I quote, ‘my fucking face.’” “I lied. I always want to see your face.” “I lied, too,” I whisper, then clear my throat.
