“The truth behind our…?” Brendan’s ire was palpable. “What’s that supposed to be?”

Deirdre panicked a little. He knew exactly what she meant and had asked her this question anyway. How was she supposed to answer that?

Brendan closed his fingers around her wrist as his handsome face loomed close to her own. “We. Are. Husband. And. Wife, Deirdre McKinnon,” he stated, prolonging each word. “You should remember that. I’m not some polyamorous man loving a harem of women. All you have to do is stay in your lane and stop trying to harm Lena—and I swear, you’ll always have a shelter in me.

“It’s not impossible for us… to go back to how it used to be.”

Brendan stiffened. Had he really said that? Why would he say that?

Was this his deepest wish after all? To go back to that time?

Deirdre was so taken aback that she could not even reel out of her own shock. His voice—his request—reverberated within her brain like a cursed echo. What was the point of telling her this? Was he trying to expl