He strode back to me, his voice cold as winter.
"Naomi. I told you. It was just a joke."
"If you didn't like it, just pretend it didn't happen. Move on."
"To me," I said through clenched teeth, "this was humiliation. This was being treated like I'm nothing."
I bit down hard on my lower lip, refusing to look away.
My defiance seemed to catch him off guard. For a moment, something flickered across his face—confusion, maybe. Or annoyance that I wasn't backing down.
The silence stretched until Charity's voice floated in from the hallway.
"Brendan! Come on, Tyler and the guys set up drinks. They want to celebrate with you!"
That snapped him out of it. He called back an acknowledgment.
Then he looked at me again. And smiled.
"Fine. Go ahead. Report it."
He took a step closer, his voice dropping.
"But think carefully, Naomi. You're my wife."
"Everything about you—I can share with whoever I want. The law can't touch me for that."
He tossed out those words like they weighed nothing at all. Then he turned and walked out.
I stood frozen, the inside of my cheek raw and bleeding where I'd bitten through it.
Cold. I felt cold all the way to my bones.
For the next week, Brendan didn't come to the hospital once.