The story was old and the details depressing and after I poured her a drink, Allison walked me through the whole ordeal – the argument, the rude phone call, the gossip, the other woman, the jilt, the wait, the final cruel realization that Rod wasn’t coming. Allison spit nails, sobbed relentlessly, laughed with a demonic fire in her eyes and shrank into fear, pain and loneliness. By two in the morning we had extinguished half the Scotch and she was nestled in my arms. A pregnant pause caught us looking into each other’s eyes and the magnet’s pull of an overdue kiss suddenly drew us together.
Lord Malinov, Journals of Lord Malinov