The table had eight seats, and the kitchen was enormous. He was sitting at one end of the table and I at the other.
"Wait," he said as soon as I got up from the table.
I sat down again.
"Petter went out," he looked at me intently. "I'll take you."
"No!" I impulsively got up from the chair.
"I'm not asking your permission!" He just went back to reading his newspaper.
"You can't do this to me." Desperation started to take over. "No one knows I'm married."
"And why not?" He seemed surprised, but he shouldn't have been.
"Let's not get into that discussion again!" My blood was already boiling from nerves.
"Liz, I'm sorry!"
"You're sorry? Do you think apologizing to me will solve anything?"
"What do you want me to do?" At that moment he got up and walked towards me.
"Don't come any c
