A Greenwich wedding

We were on the subway the night of your wedding. Your ear came to rest between my breasts and the second you laid it there, I felt your body language change. You knew. You heard the knocking in my chest and I felt you stiffen. I clasped your fingers between mine and you began to relax. Everything was different. I knew I couldn't hide it anymore. You knew of my resentment for her. I couldn't control my feelings for you, a married man and you weren't bothered. Apparently neither was she because she witnessed the entire exchange. I waited for a word of protest from her but none came. Was she so secure with you that she felt not a sliver of worry? Jealousy? Of course not. She now shared your last name. I don't remember much about that night other than my feelings finally coming to light. I like to think we were on the subway to Greenwich Village and that it was me who would explore you, enjoy you, and learn things about you that I had only ever dreamed of...not her, not her. It was me and it was you and it was always in my head.