Goodbye, Mr. Regret

He couldn't afford to back himself into a corner.

So he stepped aside and let her pass.

Jessica swept into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood. With a sharp bang, she slammed the door shut behind her.

A wave of helplessness washed over Timothy.

He remembered how easily she'd agreed to marry him all those years ago. Back then, winning her hand had been effortless. She'd always been so quiet, so undemanding-until she lost her temper. When she did, coaxing her back was nearly impossible.

Ever since she started this latest argument, he hadn't managed to comfort her, not even once.

The only time she'd softened was on her birthday, and even then, it lasted just a couple of days before she stormed out again.

Frustrated and restless, Timothy left The Gilded Whisper Estates and got into his car. He pulled out his phone and called Yates Bryant.

"Want to get a drink?" Yates chuckled. "Are you out of your mind? It's not dinner, it's not even evening-it's the middle of the afternoon. Shouldn't we be having tea, not whiskey?"

"I need a drink," Timothy replied.

"Well, I don't," Yates said flatly. "Not in the mood."

"I'm in a lousy mood. Can't you keep me company, just this once?"

Something in Timothy's voice made it clear he was at a low point.

Yates sighed. "Fine, fine. Since you're about to get dumped, I'll do you a favor and join you."

"Anywhere you want. My treat.”

"How about The Velvet Ivy? I'm nearby."

Timothy instructed his driver to head to The Velvet Ivy. The place was across town, so it took nearly half an hour to get there. As they neared the entrance, Timothy sent Yates a quick text.

Yates replied that he was already waiting in a private lounge.

pulled up outside The Velvet Ivy, Timothy stepped out-and immediately spotted the Bentley Jessica had been

owner was here,

his phone and called

license plate for me," Timothy said,

was messaging Vince, asking him

car.

Timothy ended the call and finally

the private suite. Yates glanced up

been twenty days since the surgery. Shouldn't

Four to eight weeks on crutches,

a drink. "So, what's got

said with a

honestly, I can't

just that—she actually had a point,

talk?

trauma when she was

who could help her?" Yates asked, handing over

Timothy's face clouded. "No."

on her

"Yeah," Timothy said quietly.

yet. Are you sure you should be drinking? Maybe we should just have a

just have a little. Helps

something else, you know that? She lost her voice for years, married you for seven, and you never once took her to see a doctor.

me forget

not here to sugarcoat things

clinked his glass against Timothy's

after a moment. "You've got perspective. Tell me, what can I do to

him up and down. "You

grumbled. "Of

If you were her, would you

similar earlier. If the situation were reversed-if she took Herbert out and someone mistook her for Henry's mother, and she didn't bother to clear it up-could he really blame her for