“Yes, my husband,” I say tersely.

He rolls his eyes. “You know what, this was a bad idea.”

I frown. “What? Why?”

“Because I don’t think you really know why you came here, and I think this is a bad idea.” He takes a slow pull from his whiskey. “And I think you should go.”

Screw it. I purse my lips, my heart racing. I know exactly why I came here tonight. I’ve just been tiptoeing around it. I’ve even been pretending to myself that it’s not why I’m here, but it is.

“You know why I’m here?”

“No, not really.”

“ I thought I made that pretty clear—”

“For...