The man who answered the door was the one she had been with on the previous Friday at the restaurant. So much for ‘he is not my boyfriend’! The ma... was wearing a frilly pinafore and was obviously involved in cooking their evening meal. Very domestic. He took one look at me and scowled.“What do you want?” he asked aggressively, though his accent was cultured. Public school boy, I thought. (In Britain, Public Schools are in fact private fee-paying schools. Don’t ask!)“Rachel?” I asked, while. He started tosay something and I cut him off. "I heard what you said, I'm just...processing." yeah that was the right word for it, 'Processing.' I putmy face in my hands for a moment to think.I knew that I loved Steve, we had been together for a while and I hadhoped to eventually share this side of me with him on an intellectuallevel. But I felt exposed. It made it a bit better that he had readmy stuff prior. But I always thought of sitting him down, and sayingsomething like 'Hey, hun... More

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