stand my ground, still looking up at him, smiling. We have a secret—a too-much-kiss-kiss secret—and whenever he recalls it, that certain luscious look, my body catches fire anew. I’ve come to love his moods. They bring him closer to me, not farther away, because I believe he does not love his wife, that his wife does not love him, that I am the only one who understands him. Even now, this part is hard to admit.
