His Obsession, Her Agony
divorce,
teady. They hung in the air of
his glass. He didn' t look at me. He looked at m
hout. It was a statement of fac
tched the handle of my suitcase, my knuckles wh
was a handsome man. The magazines all said so. But I only saw the mons
t your pr
ren' t you? I own this house. I own the clothes you'
linched, my body remembering
," I wh
of my hair. "You think you can just walk away?
weapon. It never failed to slice
like claws. The grip was tight, punishing. "She' s dead because of
hot and useless. "L
whiskey on his breath. "You belong to me. In this life and
. His hand connected with my cheek. The sound was a sharp crack in the silent
heek throbbing, the taste
emorse on his perfect face. "This
shoe. "Unpack. We' re having dinner with my busines
ing me crumpled on t
orm in the ruins of my despair
ght about
th would
would