Page 65 of The Golden Hour

What kind of example are you even setting for Daisy?

Can’t work because your tummy hurts.

Can’t feed your baby.

Can’t even get up to take care of yourself.

You already traumatized your daughter.

She’s going to be taken away. Mason could file for divorce and take her away from you; he has all the money and power; you have nothing.

You are nothing.

Dr. Lewis’s voice abruptly pulls Honey out of the panic spiral, and Honey feels sweat drip down her temples, her breath too short.

“It’s so stressful down there most days. But Mason always keeps a cool head. It’s so impressive,” Dr. Lewis sighs. “Your husband has taught me so many things. He’s an amazing teacher.”

Honey focuses on breathing because that’s the only thing she can hold onto.

“Wonderful,” she mutters, arms tightening around Daisy who rubs her cheek against Honey.

“We can’t wait for Mason to come back to work. Your husband and I are great together down in the emergency room. We’re like a dream team,” Dr. Lewis says with a light laugh, as if Honey should be in on some joke. “People even call me his work wife.”

Work wife.

The words twist Honey’s stomach into knots. He was barely being a husband to her at home, but he was letting someone call herself his work wife?

Honey stares at Dr. Lewis, whose lips quirk into a sly grin.

“It’s just a silly thing. Really,” Dr. Lewis sighs, crossing her arms over her ample, perky chest in her fitted scrubs. Honey tries not to wilt. “It’s just that sometimes only people in this line of work can understand what we go through. The things we see. The burdens we carry. We rely on each other. It’s only natural that we grow close.”

Dr. Lewis licks her lips.

“Are you close with my husband?” Honey asks softly.

Honey bites down on her lip to shove down the sob.

“I would think so. Some of us get a little closer than others,” Dr. Lewis says, shrugging. “You need to blow off steam, or you’ll overwork yourself. Your husband has been great with helping me out. He’s a really amazing teacher; he’s taught me all sorts of fun things.”

Do not cry in front of this woman.

You will not cry in front of this woman.

You will not allow her to hurt you.

So fucking what if Mason was cheating with her, touching her, kissing her the way he swore he would only kiss you, touch you, love you. He’s been neglecting you the entire pregnancy; he hasn’t cared about you in too long. He’s not some great prize, Honey. He’s the father of your child. That’s it.

It’s that thought—her daughter in her arms, her mother’s voice in her head—that has Honey lifting her chin, meeting Dr. Lewis’s gaze evenly, and smiling.

“That’s great,” Honey says, and is so damn proud of herself when her voice doesn’t shake. “I’m glad someone got some use out of him.”

That’s not what Dr. Lewis expected her to say, clearly from the way her smile drops. She opens her mouth to spit some more poison, but Honey is done playing around.

“My daughter is sleeping,” Honey cuts her off, her voice still kind as always, but with an unmistakable edge beneath the words. “So I kindly ask that you leave. Now. Goodnight, Dr. Lewis. Thank you for this enlightening conversation.”

Her mouth snaps closed, and the look in her blue eyes would have burnt Honey months ago.

But she’s not that same Honey.