Falling at Her Feet
"Or do your clients just not have wives and kids to go home to this late at night?"
A soft, breathy moan slipped through the speaker.
For a second, there was silence. Then, maybe out of guilt, his clumsy and unconvincing words tumbled out. "Darling, I think I had too much to drink. Let's talk when I sober up tomorrow."
With that, Zachary hung up, leaving nothing but a deadline.
Drunk? Please. I had just interrupted him having the time of his life.
The takeout sitting outside had long gone cold. I tossed it into a plate and stuck it in the microwave, watching the numbers count down.