Across the table Martha looked ready to murder me.
Worth it.
Absolutely worth it.
She would do the same with any female in proximity. She just didn’t know that yet.
Pete, however, seemed determined to keep digging his own grave. Instead of taking the very generous opportunity I'd provided to leave with what remained of his dignity, he turned toward Martha, apparently deciding she was a safer target.
The coward.
"Do you actually know this guy?"
Martha closed her eyes for a second before reaching for her water, and the drink went on long enough that I started wondering whether she was considering drowning herself in it rather than answering.
My heart chose that exact moment to become a problem.
Because for one completely irrational second, I actually cared what she was about to say.
