I blinked. My eyes burned. My face was wet.
And I hated how small I felt.
“I don’t want to be the girl you forget, Damon,” I said, quieter now. “I don’t want to be the stupid little mistake you f****d while your wife was gone. I don’t want to be the girl you regret.”
Then I looked up at him.
Straight into his eyes.
And my whole voice dropped.
“So why the f**k are you here? Why now? Why not stay down there with her if that’s who you want? Why did you even come upstairs?”
My voice cracked again.
“Or was I just convenient while she was away?”
I was still staring at him, still breathing like I’d just crawled out of a grave, still soaked in tears and humiliation and hurt, when he moved.
He didn’t speak right away. Didn’t rush toward me. Didn’t yell or argue or try to explain. He just
