He hesitated, just for a breath, then said softly, "Yeah." His fingers tapped against the wheel, steady, rhythmic. That was his little tell when he was in a good mood.
The silence stretched, and then he asked, "Did my parents give you trouble after I left?"
I was about to answer when my eyes caught something under the seat. A pair of torn silk stockings. Not mine.
So that's where he'd been. I knew about Serafina, but I hadn't expected he'd use this very car.
Seven years of marriage and I'd always been… careful. I wasn't wild, I wasn't daring. Sometimes I even asked him if he wanted me to change, if I was boring him.
Back then, he just held me close, kissing my hair, whispering, "Sweetheart, I only want you. Even if you wore rags, you'd still be the one I'd choose. Don't force yourself to be anything else. I love you the way you are."
But the man who said those words now reeked of lies.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "What do you think?"
He thought I was talking about his parents. He had no idea I'd already seen through him.
He suddenly hit the brakes, pulled me into his arms. "I'm sorry, Arianna. I shouldn't have left you alone. I promise, it won't happen again."