Inside the jacket
At a yacht party, our social circle played a blindfolded game — find your husband by touch alone.
Blindfolded, I reached out and caught Oliver's hand immediately. All it took was the faint scent of cedarwood and oud on his cuff.
When I pulled off the blindfold, the crowd gasped with envy. "Oliver literally missed a heartbeat for you."
He kissed my forehead with such tenderness. So devoted. So perfect.
But I caught it — in the glass reflection on the tabletop, clear as anything — his other hand, hidden beneath the tablecloth, gripping the thigh of a single mother nearby.
