Chapter 67

Soft morning light filtered through the living room’s pale curtains as Cassandra laughed again, her slender fingers tangling gently in Thomas’s dark hair. She nestled her cheek against the softness of his neck, as though savoring the warmth that radiated from him. “Tell me,” she murmured, her voice bright and teasing, “how might you have treated me if we’d met under different stars? If we weren’t husband and wife, but strangers passing in the street—how would you have been toward me then?”

Thomas’s shoulders rose in a rueful shrug. He leaned back against the plush arm of the couch, half-smiling in mild self-reproach. “Honestly? Different. Probably not well.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I’m not exactly the most accommodating man when it comes to women I don’t know. I was polite to you on our wedding day because—well, you’re my wife. As my friends keep reminding me, once you’re married, you have to be kind, supportive.