Facade of Love

Chapter 213 Reckoning Time

The phone kept buzzing, and after a moment’s hesitation, I answered. “Hello?” I greeted, my voice tinged with a formal distance.

Silence. I was about to assume the caller got the wrong number when a man’s voice, cool and sharp, cut through the quiet, “I’m not doing so well.”

His tone was so off that I could tell something was really wrong, even through the phone.

I was momentarily speechless, unsure of what had happened. “What’s… what’s the matter?” I asked tentatively.

Was he actually remembering how he made a fool of himself last night? Maybe he was gearing up to corner me, warning me to keep quiet about his less–than–graceful moments by acting all cold and threatening?

I racked my brain for a bit before his annoyed voice broke through, “Yvette, I’m at the hospital.”

Wait, what?

How did his being under the weather have anything to do with me?

of the hospital today. Are you going

scoff through the phone, “You’re pretty good at changing the subject. Last night, you took advantage of my drunken state to ‘murder your husband.‘ I’ve just left the exam room, and

A concussion?

But last night was fine…” I had made sure he

memory of him trying to kiss me, and me pushing him into the door frame where he might have started bleeding,

been worried, but he did not seem to show any signs of injury afterward and just

you mean ‘all fine‘?” His voice was low and not too friendly on the other end.

replied, “So, how much do you remember

was almost palpable over the phone as he said, “I barely remember a

Last night, after we said goodbye to Mr. Lowry and the crew, you kinda spaced out on the way home. You got this sudden craving for something sweet and made me go get it. I left you in the car, but when I got back, poof, you were

213 Reckoning Time

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buddy. I’m not sure what their deal was, but you were all fired up, telling me the black dog was picking on her and you wanted to step in. You even chucked your fancy

which meant I had the upper hand, right? I was not trying to dodge the fact that I accidentally hurt him. If he started grilling me about why he got hurt, I could not exactly spill that it was because he went for a kiss I did not want, and I pushed