After she left, Maya sank back against the pillows. “She hates me.”
Taylor sat on the edge of the chair. “No. She’s just honest.”
“Is that your favorite quality in women now?”
His mouth curved faintly. “I’m starting to think it might be.”
She looked at him then, really looked. He had not slept. He had not shaved. He was still wearing the shirt from last night, sleeves rolled now, collar open, tie missing, expensive watch dull in the hospital light. He looked stripped of all the things that usually made him seem invulnerable. Underneath was a man she was only beginning to recognize.
“Why are you here?” she asked again, but this time the question was smaller, less defensive. More frightened.
Taylor leaned back and answered just as quietly. “Because when they took you behind that curtain, I realized there was no version of my life I wanted that didn’t include you in it.”
