Now there was no warmth in it at all. The two syllables left his mouth like a sentence being handed down, and the cheek he'd slapped throbbed all over again.
I kept my expression blank and forced my voice flat.
"Did you forget? My prenatal checkup is the day after tomorrow."
Of course he didn't remember. He'd never once gone with me since I'd gotten pregnant. I'd brought it up a few times, and every time he'd given me the same pained look: "Sorry, Cecily. I'm afraid Alice will find out and have another episode. She's only just started to stabilize."
He was quiet for a moment, studying my expressionless face. Then: "You know I only said that about getting rid of the baby to calm her down."
I didn't answer. Was I supposed to thank him?
I was done groveling. Weakness and tears only built monuments to the enemy's victory. Every smug smile Alice wore was cemented with my humiliation.
When I continued to ignore him, Dustin did something unprecedented—he volunteered. "I should be free in two days. I can go with you."
I nearly laughed out loud. The classic routine: crack the whip, then offer a sugar cube.
Once upon a time, I'd been a beggar at love's door, hoping he might spare me a scrap of affection between his visits to Alice. A crumb of sweetness from him could keep me glowing for three days.
Not anymore. I wanted nothing from him.
"No need—"
Before I could finish, his phone rang, the sound ricocheting off the concrete walls of the parking garage.
That ringtone. I knew it well—a custom tone he'd set just for Alice. Tacky and grating, but it suited her perfectly.
Dustin glanced at the screen. His entire face changed. The cold, tight line of his mouth softened into something tender. That granite jaw, perpetually carved in ice, thawed under the dim garage lights until it was almost gentle.
He turned his back to me. When he spoke, his voice was silk—careful, reverent, as if he'd become a different man entirely.
"Yeah, all taken care of. I'm on my way to you right now."
He hung up and slid the phone into his jacket.
"I need to get back to her. If I don't, her depression will flare up again." His tone turned clipped, urgent. No "Does your face still hurt?" No "Where are you headed—do you need a ride?"
He was simply in a rush to return to her side.
"Go. She needs you."
A cold laugh escaped me. I slammed my foot on the gas and tore out of that suffocating space.