It’s just physical attraction.
Okay, maybe a little more than that, if I’m being honest.
But seriously?
He needs to be punished.
The fact that he feels comfortable undressing in front of me is crazy.
“Lincoln,” I say sharply.
He’s still rambling.
“And, yeah, they have the investors coming by as well—”
“Lincoln.”
“I—yeah. Sorry. What?” he asks.
“Why are you undressing in front of me?” I demand.
Lincoln just stares, then looks down at himself.
“I’m sorry. Habit.”
“Habit after two years of not seeing each other?” I ask.
“What can I say? I feel comfortable undressing in front of you,” he smirks.
“Really,” I reply flatly.
I don’t smirk back. I’m not giving him that satisfaction. I’m playing the game, but he’s not getting enjoyment out of it.
“So you’re with Sarah. Right?” I ask.
Lincoln doesn’t answer. He just folds his lips in, uncomfortable.
“Dude, I don’t care about you anymore. I don’t love you anymore. Trust me. I’ve moved on,” I lie through my teeth.
Why should I feel bad?
He lied through his teeth at me all the time.
And we’re not married anymore.
It’s none of his businesswhatI feel.
“Have you really?” Lincoln asks.
I’m not answering that. When he notices my plank expression he relents.
“I mean, we’re—like I said, we’re just…” he stutters.
“You’re just fucking each other. Like you were back then,” I say.
“I mean, I maybe. We’re partners at work and, I mean, it—” he mumbles.
“Why are you suddenly unable to speak, Lincoln?” I ask.
