Almost as her mother stepped out, Violet Zimmerman shrugged her shoulders, saying nothing, and shuffled forward a bit.
Daxton Lancaster's arm felt empty, hanging by the bed, and he glanced up at the woman who was clearly still sulking, lifted the quilt, and lay down on the bed.
...
In the darkness, the couple lay back-to-back on the bed, with a large space between them. Violet Zimmerman rested her head on her hand, her mind replaying the earlier scene.
It was as if the taste was still lingering in her mouth, an indescribably strange flavor, just thinking about it brought a swift wave of discomfort.
In the dark, Violet Zimmerman dashed into the bathroom like a flash of lightning.
Daxton Lancaster turned, facing the direction of the bathroom, the dim light concealed the emotions on his face.
When Violet Zimmerman returned to the bed, she held a piece of rock sugar in her mouth, often suffering heartburn during her confinement, so the room was stocked with rock sugar.
