Graeme looked at Macy concerned. He was worried about her. She had barely responded to the kiss, only staring at his throat with an unwavering concentration, like as if she was afraid to look up at him.
He was not surprised she was, but he was a little hurt. He had thought she would know him better enough to know that it did not change anything. She was still Macy, and he would still love her regardless.
Seeing her like this hurt. He cared deeply for her. He didn’t like seeing her this low-spirited and upset.
Gently, Graeme squeezed her hand in his grip. “Macy? Hey, baby, look at me.”
Macy blinked, whatever spell that had surrounded her breaking. “Yeah?”
“Eleanor said you’re… Rita. Is this true?” Graeme asked quietly, unwilling to startle and upset her further.
“I don’t…” She sho
