DEMETRIA

“You left work early,” I said to Marion as we relaxed on the couch, sipping my red wine.

“Paula showed up,” he said bluntly.

I stiffened, brow arched. “And?”

“And I ended the conversation before it probed further. Still talking about what her friends said.”

I looked at him slowly, expression unreadable. “Did she cry?”

“Not enough.”

I snorted, shaking my head as I flipped the steak. “You’re cruel.”

“You like it.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You crave ...