Marco stood at the foot of the sofa, both hands dragging down his face, his chest rising and falling with the effort of being a decent human being.
Val sat up and pulled her dress down. "I'm sorry….This isn't right. I'm sorry, I — Marco, I'm sorry."
"I know." He exhaled the words more than said them. He stared at the floor for a long moment.
Then he looked at her. "Make it right."
"What...what are you—"
"You can't marry him….You know that. Whatever you've been telling yourself — whatever story you've been rehearsing — tonight just burned it down. You know that."
"Marco—"
"You're going to stand in front of that man and say vows? After this? You'll look him in the eye and— And don't." He pointed. "Don't give me that line about loving him. I know what love looks like on your face, Val." He took one step closer. "You love me….Just me."
"Marco, I'm having Ricardo's baby."
He shook his head, the words didn't change anything. "I don't care!" he shot back. "I have never cared!"
