SAMANTHA’S POV

The room was heavy with silence except for the shock on Lucas and the man's face. The lady looked sad, her husband who had been staring at her with an apologetic look moved closer to her.

She raised her hands to stop him, "Don't come any closer George,"

"I…I'm…" he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck. It was obvious the lady was still on the edge over what had happened between them.

She cut him off with a scoff, "You're sorry?" She inhaled deeply, "Of course you are. You're always sorry and each time you keep doing the same thing over and over again. And each time, we end up in the same spot."

She walked over to the other side of the room, where a large painting of Picasso that covered almost half of the wall hung. For a while the painting caught my attention until she spoke again.

"Why not go ahead and tell your friend how much of a great husband you are?" Her words were more of a mock statement than a question.

I looked over at Lucas who stood looking at the woman, he seemed