Scrubbing the Skyline, Falling for Cyrus

At the victory gala, my wife's secret obsession intentionally stumbled into my arms.

The wine in my glass soaked his designer suit.

Before I could even call for help, my wife, Linnea, snapped without a second thought.

"Wash it with your bare hands, right now," she ordered.

Every eye in the room turned toward us.

I ripped my hand away from her. "Linnea, have you lost your mind? Everyone is watching."

"He's the one who bumped into me. I refuse!"

The next day, she slammed a tablet in front o