I carried the medicine back to her room and Myra was curled in Vincent’s arms when I entered. He looked up at me, his expression bland as usual.
“It is time for her dose,” I said. “The water is here.”
Myra frowned. “It is too hot.”
“It is warm, not hot,” I replied smoothly. “Try a sip.”
She turned her face away. The rejection was there again, clear as day. I forced a gentle tone. “Sweetheart, you need this. It will help your body.”
“No. It tastes strange.”
Vincent placed a steady hand on her back. “Myra. Take it.”
She looked up at him, then reached reluctantly for the cup. She swallowed the medicine while her eyes stayed fixed on his face.
Jealousy bit cleanly at the base of my heart. I watched him brush a stray curl from her forehead with the kind of tenderness that had never been
