Just a Kiss? Time for Divorce
Drunkenly, he buried his head into my chest, coaxing, "Honey, I'm sorry. It was just a game with Lanie. I was the groomsman, she was the bridesmaid. I didn't have a choice."
Really? No choice? Because the look in his eyes during that kiss—the delight, the pride—was impossible to miss.
When I didn't respond, he rubbed his head against my chest, trying to charm me. "Honey, forgive me, okay?"
In the past, his puppy-dog act would have melted my anger instantly. Now, the image of him and Melanie's kiss made me feel sick.
I pushed him away and rolled to the far side of the bed.
Upon sensing my rejection, Steven's playful demeanor turned to anger.