“Trust me, I know that,” Malcolm says, and then I hear footsteps echoing in the living room.
When I hear the front door opening, I rush back to bed and pull the sheets over my head.
Christ, I wish I could just close my eyes, sleep, and wait for all this to blow over. But there’s no escaping reality, is there? And I know that despite Malcolm’s words, he can’t fix this for me.
No one can.
Shit! I’m this close to being happy, to have the man I love by my side...and now this fucking painting is hanging over our heads like a damn guillotine.
“Sonia?” Malcolm asks as he walks into the room.
Slowly, I peek over the sheets.
I can’t even help it.
The moment my eyes meet his, the tears start streaming down my face.
I really fucked up, haven’t I?