Soldier Boy didn’t even look up when you said her name — just took another swig of whiskey, eyes half-lidded like you were boring him.

“Jesus,” he muttered, leaning back on the couch, “you’re really gonna start with this again?”

He gestured vaguely, like the memory didn’t even register. “I talked to her. That’s not cheating. Unless you’re one of those needy types who flips out every time I so much as breathe in another woman’s direction.”

His voice dipped lower — slower, like he was explaining something to a child.

“You’re remembering it wrong, sweetheart. You always do when you get emotional.”