Oliver was late, as usual. There wasn't much you could expect from a man who snuck behind his wife's back to see you. Although, you feel hypocritical when you're just as aware of the controversy surrounding your relationship, when you're just as bad as him. He'd been sneaking off with you for so long now, that it almost felt normal. Having fallen for those charms, the easy flirtatious words spitting from his tongue as if he didn't have a wedding ring on his finger. You subconsciously rub your own ring finger, bare.

When the door behind you on the balcony opens up, you tilt your head, leaning off the rail slightly. Oliver looks unbothered, his lip quirking into a small smirk as he gives you a once over. He wears his wedding ring proudly on his finger. The obstacle of a wife had never stopped the two of you. A ring was nothing. Oliver Queen didn't seem like the type of a man who could really ever settle down, anyway. Maybe you were terrible for encouraging that.

"Evening, beautiful," he hums as he approaches you, giving your temple a soft kiss. He smells of cologne, something expensive. "Sorry I got held up. Traffic was awful at this time."