Chapter 20

Arthur dreamed something ill-fated the night before, stirring awake at the first pale hint of morning. Beyond the window, the cold was so severe it might as well have been the Ice Age. In the merciless grip of below-zero winter, he threw open the pane and let the snow pelt down on him, sharp and unsparing. It was as if he were inflicting this torment on himself. He couldn't help but envy Sylvan, who could stand beside Cindy, who had weathered so many trials with her, and who now shared the joy of raising a radiant, angelic child. It was the life Arthur had once longed for with every fiber of his being, a future now lost to him forever. And in the dream, those lips—the same tender lips he had kissed a thousand times—curled around words as frigid and unyielding as steel. "Arthur, are you trying to get me killed again? If you come any closer, I'll call off the surgery and die right before you all over again, just like you wanted." Arthur's face was ashen. Nightmares always left him d