"Those aren't yours. You like the plain ones, right? I got one just for you," he said, his voice absent of any warmth.
I froze, the reality crashing down on me. The chocolate croissants weren’t for me; they were for Lacey.
I couldn’t take it anymore. "We’ve been together for 5 years, and you still don’t know I’m allergic to plain croissants?" I said, my voice cracking.
Keaton’s expression darkened. He stood abruptly, tossing the pastries onto the table. "Stop making a scene. Eat or don’t. I don’t care."
As he prepared to leave, I walked to the closet and grabbed a bag. "When you see Lacey today, make sure you give this to her."
His brow furrowed, but he took the bag. When he peeked inside and saw the lace bra, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He opened his mouth, probably to explain it away, but the cold, indifferent look on my face silenced him. "I'll make sure she stops leaving her things around," he said, almost too casually.
"Good," I whispered.
For a second, Keaton hesitated, his eyes trying to read my expression. Then he offered, "I can give you a ride to work today."