“Yes, please, sweetheart,” he asked, looking directly into my eyes.
I stared at him across the table, feeling a wave of confusion. He did not look like a man who had been caught doing something terrible, but rather like someone who was hurt that I doubted him.
“Who is R?” I asked directly.
“Valerie, please,” he groaned softly.
“Who is she?” I insisted, leaning forward.
“I am not cheating on you,” he stated firmly, his voice cracking slightly on the word as if the accusation itself was painful to hear. “I swear on my mother, I swear on us, but if I tell you right now, I ruin something I have been working on for a full year.”
“A full year?” I repeated, stunned.
“Yes, a full year,” he confirmed.
“Wait, on our wedding morning, you are telling me you have kept a secret from me for a year?” I asked.
“It was only one secret,” he explained gently.
“Only one secret?” I echoed.
“And it is not at all what you are thinking right now,” he assured me.
“You have no idea what I am thinking,” I shot back.
“I have a pretty good guess,” he said, allowing the smallest hint of a smile to touch his lips before he quickly stopped himself.
