Secrets as bedfellows

This is my first assignment for my writing of fiction class. I had to write a dialogue between two characters who share each other's secrets. Let me know what you think.

This is the time when Sarah usually gets out of bed. She rolls over and squints, not really wanting to reach for her glasses quite yet. It’s seven in the morning, give or take a few minutes. The light faintly shines through the blinds onto the bed, with clothes strewn about and sheets askew. She turns around to Damian, who’s laying with his back to her.
“Damian?”
This is the time when Damian usually says,
“You should probably get going.”
This is the time when Sarah usually gets ready and goes to work. It would make things awkward if she was there when Damian’s wife was, you know?
“I don’t want to keep doing this,” Sarah said.
“What?”
“This. It doesn’t feel right.”
Sarah’s head was swimming. The doctors said her husband was showing signs of waking up from his coma, but these were still small steps. It had been two years since the accident. She got lonely one night, went to a bar with some of her friends and woke up with a hangover and Damian. She told her friends that she turned him down and took a cab home. That was six months ago.
“He might wake up soon,” Sarah said. “We’ll have to stop.”
This is the time when Damian usually puts his face into his pillow, hoping to just drown out the noise.
“I can’t just stop,” Damian said, wishing she’d just leave so he wouldn’t have to tell her the truth. “I think I lo—”
“No,” Sarah said. “I told you, we can’t use that word. I know what we have. It’s not that. It’s just… we need to stop this. I can’t live like this. I still love him.”
“I thought we weren’t using that word. Why are you here then if you still love him?”
“Oh, shut up. Besides, don’t you get tired of cleaning up the room every time so your wife doesn’t find out?”
“It’s worth it. Not like Mary and I actually use this bed anyway. C’mon. Her flight landed 20 minutes ago. You should go.”
“No. We’ve got to talk about this.”
“What’s there to say? We’re both miserable. I can’t stand being with her anymore. You need someone. And well, this is just how we distract ourselves.”
It’s 7:15. This is the time Sarah is usually walking out the door, leaving Damian alone with his conscience.
“There has to be something more to it,” Sarah said.
“There isn’t. We come here. We stay the night. We go our separate ways,” Damian said, just trying not to say something she already knows. “You have to make everything so damn complicated.”
Really, he can’t stand being away from Sarah, the bubbly blonde, so full of life. He saw so much in her. Ten hears his junior, she still had that spark that he once saw in Mary. You see, Damian married Mary when they were 18. High school sweethearts and all that. After 20 years, though, they both got bored. Well, at least he did. Who knows about her? She got a job with Global Airlines as a flight attendant last year, hoping to regain some adventure in her life.
“Fine,” Sarah said, giving up. She finally reached for her glasses.
It’s 7:30. This is the time Mary usually calls to say she’s on her way. That her trip from Philadelphia, from Phoenix, from Denver, from Chicago, from Salt Lake City, from wherever, went fine.
Sarah gets up, gets dressed, takes one last look at Damian, lying prostrate on the bed, and leaves.
It’s 7:35. This is the time Damian, with just his thoughts as his bedfellow, usually starts crying.