“So, Jean, what do you want? Why this dinner? You said you had something I might need. Can we get on with it and stop this charade?” I asked, my voice calm, but every word carefully measured.
“We can at eat first, I'm starving." she replied, sharp, wary.
“Jean, you know I’d rather shoot myself in the leg than eat with you right now. What do you want—or I’m leaving. I’m too busy for this,” I said, scanning the room.
I leaned closer, my eyes locking onto hers. “Why are you always treating me like this? I know I made a mistake in the past. But after all these years, I thought you’d have forgotten it. I thought you’d have forgiven me… and moved on from it.”
My laugh was bitter, strained. “Forgive you? Forget? Jean… you ended someone’s life forever and you want me to forget about it in les
