“Are you okay?”
He slides his other hand from my chest to wrap it around my neck. “I am now.”
“You lied about being hurt?” I ask with a ball lodged in my throat.
“I never said I was. I just mentioned that I was not okay.”
“You clearly are.”
“No, I’m not. I’m lonely without you, baby.”
I suppress a smile. “I thought you said you didn’t want to see, and I quote, ‘my fucking face.’”
“I lied. I always want to see your face.”