Frowning, I twist my neck and stare up at him.
He swipes a thumb under my eye. It comes away black with smudged mascara. He dips his fingers in the water and repeats it on the other side, cleaning off what must be an unsightly mess on my face made from the tears mingling with makeup.
Very gently, he says, “You said you’d never lived alone. That you went straight from your father’s house to…his.”
His eyes flash with hatred when he says “his,” but he quickly goes on.
“What would you think about getting a place of your own?”
“I don’t think I’m understanding the question.”
“Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I’ll force you to live with me.”
I stare at him in open-mouthed surprise.
“Don’t pull such a puss. I’m not that much of a caveman. Now turn around and let me fondle you while
