Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 366

Early morning. The doorbell rang.

Mila opened the door to find Forrest standing on her porch, tall and graceful in a crisp white suit. There was an air of quiet elegance about him, and for a moment she just stared—she'd been wondering when to pay him a visit, but hadn't expected him to beat her to it.

"Are you... okay?" she managed, fingers tightening on the handle as she took in his handsome face, drawn and tired around the edges.

"No," he replied, his smile carrying a trace of bitterness. "I miss you, Mimi. I waited for you all night at the Willow Lane Café, but you never came. Tell me―am I too late again?"

"...No." Hearing the weariness in his voice, Mila felt a pang in her chest. She stepped aside, holding the door open wider. "Come in."

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked as she led the way toward the kitchen. "Coffee, like always?"

“Just milk. No sugar." Forrest followed her at a leisurely pace, adding casually, "And make it hot, please."

Mila smiled, glancing back at him. "I know. No sugar, always hot. Some things never change."

He'd had the same habit for years.

"Can I use a plate?" Forrest's mood seemed to lift a little as he waved a paper bag with a small flourish. "I thought I'd come by early, figured you might not have had breakfast yet. Picked up some pastries from Sweet Bite on the way."

Mila's eyes lit up. "Sweet Bite? Their pastries are impossible to get! Every time I go, there's a line around the block, and half the time they're sold out."

She'd lived in Kingsford for years and always loved that little bakery-if only it weren't so wildly popular.

Forrest said with a small smile. "Today,

pot of tea. Sheer white curtains billowed in

sat across from

sugar melting on her tongue, the sweetness flooding her senses and settling somewhere deep in her chest. She closed her eyes

gentle curve of her

spring air was soft, peaceful. For a while, neither spoke; they simply shared the quiet comfort

gather her thoughts, finally spoke. "These

I have history. Even if it weren't for you, it was only a matter

in silence for a long

voice hesitant. "Your hand... how is it

met Forrest's eyes as he smiled softly, extending his arms so his hands rested palms up

like I'm

feeling the warmth of his skin. His hands were long and elegant, the bones smooth beneath her touch-no scars, no sign of injury, though she

rising on the backs of his hands, warm

that enough?" His voice was

Mila realized she'd been holding his hands for too long. She pulled away, flustered. "S-sorry. They look

Forrest hesitated, then added softly, "You know about

lip. “...Did it

her eye, his voice impossibly gentle. "But Mimi, what hurt the most was knowing I was

sorry," she

I'm the one who should apologize.

spilled over as she shook her head. "If we'd never met, you never would have gone through