“Sonny, puh-lease,” he drags out,
hand to heart.
The name hits harder this time.
‘Cause it wasn’t a slip. Hechoseit.
He said it right to my face,
out loud,
as if it belongs to him now.
And my next breath stumbles so hard
it forgets how to walk.
But then?—
“Andrew? Babe?”
A voice?—
female, loud, confident?—
cuts between us.
I turn,
seeing a tall, stunning blonde stepping out from behind a shelf. The kind of gorgeous that makes men sit up straight.
Andrew doesn’t react.
Doesn’t talk.
Doesn’t even move.
His smile’s still there—on me.
His eyes—still on me.
He hasn’t processed her yet.
Then his gaze moves to the left.
One flick of a glance, but no spark.
No‘Oh shit.’
His eyes slide back to me.
Then her again.
Blank. Buffering.
As if he forgot she existed,
forgot who she is.
