"Sweetheart,
has no one ever told you?"
Camilla couldn't help but laugh at Sinclair's blunt, textbook example of a straight man's response.
"When someone asks what you're doing, it means they miss you," she said, leaning back against the sofa.
Her smile softened as she added gently, "sweetheart, I miss you."
Such a simple sentence, yet it made Sinclair's breath hitch.
His heart twisted painfully, as if someone had wrung it dry.
"Camilla—"
His voice came out rougher, deeper than before.
"Too cheesy, right?
I know,"
Camilla chuckled lightly. "It hasn't even been a full day since you left, but somehow, it feels like forever."
She understood all too well—men like Sinclair showed love through actions, not words.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself back into her usual carefree tone.
"Let's not talk about that, you—"
"Camilla."
Sinclair's husky voice came through the phone.
"I miss you too."
Desperately.
