His Permission
MARY’S POV:
He looked different than the last time I had seen him. His clothes were rumpled, his hair disheveled, his eyes shadowed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. But there was something else in his expression, something hard and determined that I didn’t recognize.
He saw the suitcase on the bed, and his eyes narrowed.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. I just watched him.
He walked into the room, his steps slow and deliberate. When he was close enough to touch me, he stopped. His eyes searched my face, looking for something I wasn’t willing to give.
“You were with someone yesterday,” he said. “A man.”
It wasn’t a question.
“He was just a friend,” I said. My voice was flat, empty, the voice of someone who had run out of fear.
Alistair’s jaw tightened. “What friend? I’ve never seen him before.”
I didn’t answer.
“Who were you with, Mary?”
“I have friends,” I said carefully. “People who care about me. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.”
“My business is anything that involves my wife.” He stepped closer, his eyes boring into mine. “Where did you go today?”
I kept my voice steady. “I went to Elowen’s school event. The one you were supposed to attend. Remember?”
He didn’t react. “I was busy.”
“Busy with Vesper.”
“I was busy with work.’
I laughed, a short, hollow sound that seemed to echo off the walls. “Sure you were.”



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