[A part of her is sad that he doesn't respond to her in his usual way, no playful swats to her rear or a gentle rub, it hurts her a little because it feels like he doesn't want her anymore and when he turns his attention back to getting dressed she can feel her own insecurities trying to pop up. The nasty insecure part of her that wants to whisper that of course he doesn't want her anymore, not when he had a taste of something better.]

Okay.

[She says and turns away, not wanting him to see the troubled look in her eyes.]

I'll go make sure we've got enough ice for cocktails.