The Wife Who Won
He stays just outside my personal space, but close enough that I can smell the faint scent of oil on his shirt.
"First of all," he says, his voice flat and entirely honest. "If I didn't want to hear it, I wouldn't have offered to make the sea bass. Second, you’re not bombing me. You’re dealing with a shark who thinks he can drown you because you decided to swim away. It’s a spectator sport, 5B. I’m just waiting for you to bite back."
I look down at my damp hands. "I’m going to." I say, "I'll have to, 5A."
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