That scar had built their company. That scar had changed the course of their life. And it was not on the woman standing in his bedroom. Jack looked away before she turned around. His heart was beating too hard. Too fast. He forced himself to breathe normally. Forced his face to stay still. Forced himself not to say anything.
Rosalind climbed into bed beside him a moment later, warm from the shower, smelling faintly of soap and something floral he couldn’t place. She said something soft and ordinary. He didn’t hear it. He lay there in the dark with his pulse hammering in his throat and one clear thought moving through him again and again, each time sharper than the last.