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He closed the door for the last time and turned round, leaning back against it to survey the damage left. Glasses, plates, bits of food, empty bottles and even more glasses were strewn around the house. And amongst it all, sitting miserably on the couch with her glass of wine was Kirsten.
"Hey," he said softly as he sat down next to her, adjusting his position so he was facing her.
"That went well, you know." She glanced round at him, nodding slowly.
"I guess so," she managed to whisper. Pouring the remainder of the wine down her throat she let her head rest on the back of the couch.
"I just wish…" she trailed off. Ryan knew exactly what she was thinking, as he finished the sentence for her,
"…that Sandy had been here?" He took her hand again, rubbing gently to try take away the icy chill that had set into her fingers. His hands were hot, and she gladly accepted the gesture. It couldn't stop her eyes from welling up though, and as she fought to push the lump in her throat away a tear forced a way out, rolling down her cheek. She brought her free hand up to catch it, but was beaten to it by Ryan's swift actions, his thumb seeming to effortlessly caress the tear away. She caught his hand as he brought it away and squeezed tight.
"Why do you think he's staying so late? 4 times in the past 2 weeks, Ryan." Her voice trembled as she spoke; already knowing what could be true, yet too afraid to say or even hear it.
"Well, he's just dedicated. It must be a big case they're working on." He couldn't turn to her and say that it was possible he was cheating; it would upset her so much he thought. Kirsten turned to him with a puzzled expression,
"They? His latest case is just him on his own, Ry. He said that yesterday." His eyes darted away from hers, down to the floor. Sandy had said 'we' on the phone. He was sure of it.
"Ohh…um…my mistake," he stuttered. The silence that followed was painfully uncomfortable. Kirsten rested her hand on his arm,
"Honey, it's not your mistake. It's mine."