I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 29
“Do you still love him?” Sabine demanded.
The corridor went still.
Adrian stood behind her, his breathing quiet.
“I loved him,” I said. “From the time I was twelve until I was twenty-three. I measured every formal jacket he owned. I know his left shoulder sits half a centimeter lower than his right, and I know that when he lies, he can’t stop adjusting his cuff.”
Adrian’s hand dropped to his side as if struck.
“But clothes go out of season. So does love. Admitting the past existed doesn’t mean I have to put it on again.”
I turned and walked to Julien.
He was holding a paper bag. Inside were still-warm cheese puffs from the French bakery on the corner.
“Eat first,” he said. “Between last night and now, all you’ve had is one can of terrible soup.”
He didn’t comment on my confession. He didn’t seize the moment to prove he was more worthy. He simply opened the bag for me, then stepped back half a pace.
That tiny gesture defined the difference between him and Adrian more clearly than any possessive declaration ever could.