“No,” he said, stabbing the cake. “Because watching you plan my demise is better than sex.”
The waiter arrived with dessert. A single, luridly red velvet cake, shaped like a heart. Greg picked up his fork. “You know,” he said, finally smiling, “this is why I never had an affair.”
She swirled her dirty martini, watching the lone olive drift in the glass like a tiny, defeated life raft. “So,” she said, her voice a low purr of controlled chaos, “the divorce attorney’s number is in your phone under ‘Golf Buddy.’”
“No,” he said, stabbing the cake. “Because watching you plan my demise is better than sex.”
The waiter arrived with dessert. A single, luridly red velvet cake, shaped like a heart. Greg picked up his fork. “You know,” he said, finally smiling, “this is why I never had an affair.”
She swirled her dirty martini, watching the lone olive drift in the glass like a tiny, defeated life raft. “So,” she said, her voice a low purr of controlled chaos, “the divorce attorney’s number is in your phone under ‘Golf Buddy.’”
