The Day I Stopped Waiting Was the Day He Started Begging novel Chapter 22

She had made a call, too.

York took a long time to answer. "What is it?"

Before she could respond, she heard a doctor in the background saying, "Mr. Yates, the hospital blood bank is running low. We've requested a transfer from Metropolitan General Hospital, but it will take another thirty minutes."

York's voice was faint but carried an unquestionable resolve.

"Take mine. I can't let anything happen to her."

After a pause, he asked Madeline, "You were calling to—"

Madeline hung up before he could finish.

She couldn't describe the feeling in her chest. It was like a jagged piece of glass caught in her throat—impossible to swallow, impossible to spit out. It just left her stomach churning and a heavy lump forming in her throat.

Madeline had no desire to hear York's answer. Instead, she looked at Felicity and said flatly:

"Don't worry. When I have time, I'll recommend a few real estate agents to you."

Help? What help?

She wasn't nearly bored enough to run around town doing errands for Felicity.

With that, Madeline pulled her hand free and turned on her heel.

Seeing her walk away, a faint smile tugged at the corner of York's lips. He turned back, not entirely rejecting Felicity, though his tone was thoroughly indifferent:

"I'll have my assistant look into it."

Once Felicity left, York followed after his wife.

Madeline was wearing a simple apricot cardigan that accentuated her slender waist. As she walked, her ethereal elegance was laced with an undeniable, stunning curve of her hips.

It was a maddening mix of innocence and pure seduction.

He casually hooked a finger around her purse strap from behind, pulling her closer as he raised a brow.

"You have quite the temper, Ms. Monroe. If the old man finds out, he'll start lecturing us about our marital discord again."

His hand settled naturally on her waist, his touch radiating a slow, burning heat as if trying to set her ablaze. They were so close they could feel the warmth of each other's breath.

Madeline's eyelashes fluttered.

During their two-year cold war, they had either been at each other's throats or living completely separate lives.

He offered her the mug. Madeline lowered her eyes, watching the steam curl up from the milk.

This was a habit York had picked up during the honeymoon phase of their relationship.

She always had trouble sleeping, so whenever York was home, he would heat the milk for her himself. After she finished it, he would gently rub her back in bed, waiting until she drifted off before going to sleep.

If he was busy with work, he would remind Susan in advance to do it.

Madeline didn't take it.

She didn't need warm milk to sleep anymore.

Breaking the habit of the milk was fine.

Breaking the habit of him was fine, too.

Surviving those six hundred days and nights hadn't been that difficult after all.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Madeline's phone buzzed. Two words flashed across the screen: Hunter Holt.

The amusement in York's eyes instantly vanished.