He moved to the side of the bed to get the red wine from the nightstand, took a drink, and then joined me, glass in hand. An grimace of what may have been regret warped over his face.
He responded, "Your diversion was brilliant, but we still need to speak."
I grabbed the glass away from him, put it to my mouth, and chugged it down. Even though I'd only ever drank red wine twice before, this was far the worst of the three. I returned it with as little expression as possible. “Thanks.” It took all in me to keep from scrubbing the vile butter flavor from my mouth. "It's fantastic!"
That sly grin on his face told me he didn't buy what I was saying. However, he became serious as he put down the drink and looked directly into my eyes. Rather of asking, "Are you all right?" There was a noticea
