The Kiss Mark
I got Natalie safely to my mother, then found Richard.
In the bridal suite, I asked him to take off his jacket.
He hesitated. Then he did.
A perfect, dark red lip print bloomed on the sleeve. Not a smudge—a deliberate kiss.
“Where did this come from?” I asked.
He muttered something about his mother’s greeting kiss. But his mother wore pale pink lipstick. And he knew it.
The air between us went heavy.
