"Are you f*****g kidding me with this s**t, Portia? What the hell is your problem?"
I'd woken up filled with regret and the intention of making things right with Portia. The problem was, by the time I got out of bed, took a shower, and felt human enough to form sentences, I was dehydrated. I'd screwed up. It didn't matter if I'd thought it was all in good fun or believed she wouldn't find out, much less be hurt by my actions. I loved Portia, and that should have trumped anything else I thought was going on last night. I didn't have a reason for why it didn't, only that it wouldn't happen again.
I'd been ready to make that commitment and that apology until I had strolled into the kitchen-feeling like death-to find Ernie, Hensley, and Portia waiting to pounce.
"I did what I thought was
