Enzo dropped me off at the university and I could feel the weight of last night in every slow step I took. I didn’t even join breakfast with his guests. I told Enzo I wasn’t hungry, that I’d eaten already. He didn’t push. Thank God.
If I’d sat at that table, his stepmother would’ve asked questions. Who was I? What was I doing in Enzo’s house? And Enzo would lie. Again. Hide us. Again. It would hurt all over, and Dale was there. Dale knew who I was to him.
I’d already embarrassed myself earlier when Dale caught me crying. Anyone in my position would’ve cried. My own husband couldn’t introduce me to anyone. He couldn’t claim me in front of other people, but when his mouth was on my skin and his hands were everywhere, he acted like a starving lion. Like he wanted to devour me in every corne
