“Dmitri,” she hisses, “you didn’t forget an anniversary. You—” Her voicedips low. “—killed her sister. You really think a little ‘Gee, I’m awfullysorry’ is gonna cut it?”
She has a point, obviously; I’m just too stubborn to admit it. “Like I said,it’s better we maintain some boundaries.”
“Translation: you don’t wanna grovel.” I reach for my glass of wine andBee’s eyes narrow as though I’ve just pulled a knife on her. “God, I need adrink.”
I smack my lips exaggeratedly, making a real show out of luxuriating overmy alcohol since my “pregnant” fiancée can’t be seen to have any rightnow. “I don’t blame you. This s**t is delicious.”
“Asshole.” I chuckle darkly as she tries to maintain her googly-eyed lovey-dovey haze. “Okay, listen, I should
