My eyes shifted back and forth between his as I tried to understand what had just happened. “What?”
His laughs subsided, and he shook his head. “Nothing.”
“What am I missing here?”
“Nothing,” he repeated.
“Then you think my misery is funny?” I snapped.
“Not at all.” He turned serious again. “I just think he’s full of shit.”
I continued to look at him, and for the first time, I felt deceit from him. Like there was something I was missing, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t a good feeling, and I didn’t want to feel that way again. “I don’t like this feeling.”
“What feeling?”
“Like I’m the butt of a joke.”
The seriousness in his eyes started to soften in remorse. “Sweetheart—”
“I would offer to pay for my meal, but now I need to storm out, so thanks for dinner.” I shifte
