Slip Of The Tongue

“Why didn’t you say he’s here? You didn’t even tell me? Why, babe?”

Jeff’s voice resounds inside the hotel room. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell him, I just don’t want his precious trip to go to waste.

“Babe, I, it’s because he’s nothing. I don’t want you to be so much affected. And I don’t want you to act like that, babe,” I try to calm him down.

“Then when did he arrive, huh? When did you meet him? Yesterday? Last week? When are you planning to tell me, or do you even have plans to tell me? Answer me, babe,” he’s been walking back and forth just in front of our hotel bed.

Thanks to the loudmouth and somebody’s slip of the tongue, our moments together are now ruined. “I am going to kill you, Geneva, just you wait!” I told myself.

He snaps at my face, “Hey! Are you listening babe? You haven’t answered any of my questions. Would you like me to guess, instead? Fine! Let’s play your game!” he angrily says.

“Babe, please. Let’s not ruin this moment, please? You flew all the way he