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"He had a beautiful girlfriend who was a famous mystery writer. There was another couple who came sometimes. The writer's brother and his partner, I think. They were all amazing in providing whatever assistance was necessary during the sessions.
Maybe you'd slept with so many women that they all blurred together, because you surely would have remembered sleeping with someone in a hotel on Halloween a week prior. Since I'm not usually confrontational and I saw that Jolie was so happy, I tried to let it go.
I hadn't counted on you always being here. And you completely ignored me.
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After four hours of the noise and being hit at least a dozen times by random ladies' purses while they adjusted the weight of their purchases as they shuffled by, I would have gladly traded this job for a fish market. At least the fish didn't bicker about getting a lower discount than advertised, or that so-and-so was already out of whatever it was in the flyer and it was only nine o'clock. The complaining voices were almost as bad as the feeling of claustrophobia that started to set in the longer I stood in one place.
Looking up occasionally did help. I'd give Chris credit for that.
"What's wrong?" "Shh. " He brought my left hand above my head and held it there with his, kissing me harder, my head pressing into the pillow now. "Chris!" I wiggled under him, my right palm futilely pushing between us on his chest.
In the distance, I heard the front door shut loudly. "What-" "Getting mad won't change anything, honey.