“I am sorry, it is just that...
“No.” He cuts me off, speaking so gently. “I am sorry. It is my fault. I forgot to tell you that it’s a weekend, and this has never been her home on weekends. You will see her here again, probably on Monday morning, coming to either change for work or sleep her hangover off.” He explains, and now I feel like a judgmental, paranoid she-jerk! Gosh!
This Mitch b***h, though? Even if they are faking it, can't she at least try to act modest? I mean, what kind of wife parties all weekend? What does she tell her friends about her husband? Jeez!
“And what about the house?” I ask in a low voice, shame written all over my face, because, girl, he had a reason to get angry.
“We normally have two: a lady and a guy. They are never here on weekends, most of the time,
