Peyton didn’t speak as she entered the elevator. Dale followed, wringing his hands like some old woman from a fifties television show. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. It was taking all her effort not to haul off and hit him. God! She wanted to hit him so much! Instead, she kept her eyes averted - not looking down, just away from him. She had nothing to feel ashamed about and she wouldn’t let him intimidate her into feeling that way.

     When the elevator reached her floor, the doors opened and she strode out and down the hall towards her apartment door. He followed. She unlocked her door and...