Five Years Too Late
I even leaned against his shoulder once or twice, playing the part of the doting, supportive wife to perfection.
But beneath the table, my fingers were tightly clutched around my napkin. Every time Damian leaned close to speak to me, the faint scent of that unfamiliar cologne hit my nose. Every time he shifted his weight, I could see the edge of the makeup smudge on his shoulder out of the corner of my eye.
He had been with someone else, somewhere else, right up until the moment he arrived at Six Seven. And yet, he had walked in here with a diamond necklace and a perfect apology.
Bab Populer