THE NIGHT deepened, past midnight. Instead of sleeping, Emilia was drinking with Tyron. They had finished three bottles of wine, and were on their fourth. Emilia felt dizzy, but knew she could handle it. Meanwhile, despite the dim light, she could see Tyron's flushed cheeks and drowsy eyes – clearly drunk.
“So, what's your answer, baby? Will you agree to a dinner date with me?”
Emilia looked at Tyron's right hand, which was caressing her left thigh. Her ex-husband had been touchy for a while, constantly stroking and squeezing her thigh.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, but she let it be. Besides, they had been talking about a dinner date for a while now.
“And then what happens next?” she asked, her voice teasing. She already knew what would happen next; Tyron had told her earlier.
Tyron le
