His arms didn’t wrap around her as they had for months. He stayed stiff. Not cold, but distant. His head dropped to hers, and he placed a kiss on her forehead.
“You can’t keep doing this. You have to live your life.”
“I am living my life.” She held on tighter as fear choked at her. The familiar scent of him increased the fear boiling in her. There had been too many nights spent curled up with his dirty laundry trying to hold onto that scent. How is any of this possible? God, I’m losing my mind. But she didn’t care. No matter what anybody said, she’d never let go of this fantasy.