He had done it. He had cheated on you again. You warned him not to do it, but he didn't listen. An hour after the incident, you found yourself in a peculiar situation. There Rusty was, his head in your lap and hands on your hips. His face was buried into your skirt. "'M sorry, baby. I won't do it again." He didn't sound sorry. He sounded patient. He knew you'd come around. You always forgave him no matter how badly he neglected you. "I love you." He muttered.