“I’m used to it.” His gaze softens, and he sets the phone on the table. Slowly, he cups my cheek. With a soothing stroke of his thumb, he says, “You shouldn’t be used to that. No one should.” “Well,” I drop my eyes, “I am and I’m fine.” “No.” Finger on my chin, he tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his eye. “You’re not. It’s okay to admit when someone hurts you. You’ve certainly given me hell all these years.”
