He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him—all he knew was that this vague, gnawing feeling left him unsettled and on edge.
A heavy sense of helplessness weighed on his chest.
Just as Zinnia reached for the guest room door again, he grabbed her wrist.
His grip was too tight, making Zinnia wince and furrow her brow in pain.
“Zinnia, this isn’t how you should be reacting.”
His voice trembled ever so slightly, the irritation in his tone barely masking something more vulnerable.
Zinnia’s patience finally snapped. Her irritation flared as she fixed Landon with a pointed look.
“So, tell me, how exactly should I react? Should I throw a tantrum and make a scene? Or should I act heartless and tell you not to worry about Noelle at all?”
“I—”
“Alright then, since you want it spelled out: From now on, anything to do with Noelle is none of your business. If she calls, don’t answer. Is that what you want?”
Landon fell silent, completely at a loss for words.
Zinnia’s lips curled into a bitter, mocking smile.
The scorn in her eyes made Landon avert his gaze, unable to meet her stare.
“See? The moment I give you what you claim to want, you’re not happy with that, either.”
She pulled her hand free from his grasp.
Her smile only grew sharper, its brightness almost painful for Landon to look at.
“You want me to be understanding and obedient, but you also want me to fight with you. Isn’t that a little contradictory?”
She looked him dead in the eye, then reached out to smooth the collar of his lounge shirt, her movements oddly gentle. “We’re still married, Landon. Out of respect for Father Zephyr—our matchmaker, and an old friend of your family’s—can we just stop making things difficult for each other?”
Her voice was calm, almost detached, but every word seemed to rattle Landon, fraying his composure.
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