“I’m not built for this,” he says.

“Oh we both know how your built,” she teases, tugging at the belt he’s trying to pull back up.

“You know what I mean,” he chides, though she knows the comment felt good where it counts, the pride of the man. He continues, thoughtful, regretful, “The sneaking, the lies…it’s all so, I don’t know, tawdry.”

She rolls gracefully onto her back on the disheveled motel bed, “Isn’t that the fun part, biddy boy?”

His scowl is real this time, “I don’t know why I even try to talk to you about guilt.”

“Oh please,” comes her purring rejoinder, “It’s not like you’re married.”

His sigh tells more than his words, “Yeah, yeah, but you know how he is.”

She muses, lolling back onto her taut stomach, “I thought I did…once.”

“I just wish that, well, this could be something more, without all the sneaking around.” He pauses in the doorway, ready to slip into the night, “I love you, Selina.”

“I know ya’ do, lover boy wonder.”

“You know I hate when you call me that.”

“Yeah, I do.”