When he lay back down, she slipped down the bed, her back to him and wished he would go back to the other room but instead he wrapped his arm around her middle and spooned her.
“I’m sorry Essence.”
The quiet declaration made her oddly weepy, and she kept her face averted. His fingers caught her hand at her stomach and interlocked their fingers together, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“I don’t want us to go to sleep another night at odds with one another,” he kissed her shoulder.
She closed her eyes and hated the single tear which rolled onto the pillow beneath her cheek. Why couldn’t he be a complete dickwad, throw temper tantrums and f**k off somewhere? He’d be much easier to hate and less likely for her to fall for if he was a total t**t versus the man who was leaning over her
