“Betty…”
“Did you?”
His jaw tightened.
“No.”
I held his gaze.
“Then give me your phone.”
“What?”
“Give me your phone.”
“No.”
“If nothing happened, show me.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
I felt something inside me harden.
“Did anything happen between you and Claire?”
“No.”
“Before that day?”
“No.”
“After?”
“No.”
“Then why are you protecting your phone?”
“I’m not doing this.”
He turned away.
“Rob, look at me.”
He didn’t.
“Did you cheat on me?”
“No.”
“Look at me and say it.”
Slowly, he turned around.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then his shoulders dropped.
“It was one kiss.”
I felt as if the floor had shifted beneath me.
“So you lied.”
“Claire was upset. We were talking, things got emotional, and she kissed me.”
“You just told me you didn’t kiss her.”
“I panicked.”
“Was it really one kiss?”
“Yes.”
“Give me your phone.”
“No.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Then you expect me to believe you because?”
He said nothing.
I thought of the furniture lie, the late nights, his guarded phone, and the way he had attacked me over my tattoo.
Then, something clicked.
“You weren’t angry because you hate tattoos.”
“What?”
“You were angry because mine reminded you of hers.”
