Catarina had her phone out, leaning against his chest, snapping photo after photo. Her expression was the careful blankness of a woman composing a frame. She tilted her chin. Adjusted the angle. Made sure the light caught the curve of the baby's cheek.
Tomasso rolled over and pulled her into his arms, his voice low and groggy. "I thought you said you were tired. Go back to sleep."
"I'm not tired."
She looked up at him, then undid the buttons of her top and climbed on top of him.
"I want you. Give it to me."
His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes traced her body.
"You just had a baby. Rest. Don't start something."
"I don't care. I want you."
She leaned down and kissed him.
He pushed at her a few times, halfheartedly. Within seconds, they were tangled together.
The sight made my stomach turn.
I could still feel where my body had emptied itself three days ago. I could still feel the absence. And here was my husband, the man who had built his entire empire on the name I gave him, wrapped around the woman who had put me on that floor.