“That was really shitty.” “It was,” I agree, feeling the regret I swore I’d never feel. “Most would say shittier than you deserved.” She raises her brows. “Would you say that?” After a pause, I admit, “Yes. You didn’t deserve that.” Her eyes narrow. “Then say you’re sorry.” My gaze falls to her parted mouth, those pink lips puffy and smooth, before returning to her baby blues. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, letting her see how genuine I am. Because I am sorry.
