Aria stared at her husband's smug face, feeling a wave of heat wash over her entire body. Her brain frantically scrambled for a backspace button that didn't exist in real life.
"Talk!" Aria blurted out, her voice pitching up in a desperate panic. "I meant talk! I wanted to say we should sit down and talk! The syllables just... they got mixed up in my throat! It was a slip of the tongue!"
Damien didn't even try to hide his amusement.
He knew that she meant what she said and it was exactly what she wanted.
"Right," Damien hummed, his voice smooth and dripping with teasing disbelief. "A slip of the tongue."
"It happens!" Aria argued, grabbing the small plastic container of strawberries from the console table and holding it to her chest like a shield. "People misspeak all the time! Now, if you'll excuse me, I am fashionably late to my own premiere, and I have a red carpet to walk."
She spun around on her heels, intending to escape the suffocating embarrassment of the foyer.
