Abby I climb back into my seat and give Adam an apologetic look. “Sorry,” I say. He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I have to get up early, anyway.” He adjusts his seat and gives me a small smile.“I’ll stop by tomorrow night.” “Promise?” “I promise.” There’s a brief silence. A
Tough love seems to be her favorite way to deal with me lately. She thinks I’m spiraling, and I can’t really argue with her. Things haven’t been easy since the divorce. But I’ve managed to survive without Tiffany mothering me, and I’m getting pretty tired of her lectures. She’s just going to have
Abby I weave through the tables, greeting my customers. A lot of my regulars are here tonight, and I stop at Emily’s table. She’s here with her friends, Lunas like her. I know most of them from when Karl and I were married. Emily looks up at me, and I plaster on a smile. “Hi, dear,” she says, h
Abby My fingers tap anxiously against the table as I dial Adam’s number. After a few rings, his voice, smooth and deep, answers. “Hello?” “Adam,” I start, trying to steady my voice, “It’s me.” There’s a slight pause on the other end. “Hey, Abbs. What’s up?” I take a deep breath. “I’ve be
She pulls out a deep blue dress, its fabric gleaming like the night sky. “This. Try this,” she insists. I hesitate, but she shoves it into my hands and pushes me into a dressing room. The dress feels luxurious against my skin, and when I step out to show Chloe, she gasps. “Adam won’t know w
Abby The once golden glow of the candles seems dull now. The shadows in the room stretch longer, a stark contrast to the beautifully set table, pristine and untouched. The wine, once poured with anticipation, sits still, a silent witness to my growing anxiety. The aroma of the truffle oil, once
Abby The weight of loneliness presses down on me as the pristine table setting lies untouched. The absence of Adam’s presence burns more than any verbal rebuke ever could. Frustration bubbles within me as I glare at the untouched plates of food, each dish meticulously crafted to symbolize the dee
I’m mid-way through this cathartic—albeit wasteful—process when an idea, perhaps influenced by the wine, hits me. “Karl,” I say aloud, the name acting like a beacon in the fog of my anger. Karl had always been different—reliable, true to his word. He’s an asshole, but in those ways, he’s the c