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A part of me is glad he’ll be out of my apartment for at least a day or two, but I wanted to talk about the annulment. I thought that would happen today, but for some reason, I’m happy that we won’t have that discussion until he’s back in the city.
I slide the box closer and open the lid.
I laugh out loud when I spot the single slice of decadent chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting and a cherry on top.
It’s from Dobb’s Bakery in Brooklyn, which happens to be one of my favorites.
Unable to contain my excitement, I race back to my bedroom and grab my phone.
I ignore the dozens of notifications for new comments on my social media posts that have popped up since I left my bedroom. Instead, I scroll through my recent text messages until I spot Daniel’s name.
I quickly type something before I hit send, hoping that he’ll see it before he boards if he’s on his way to catch a flight.
Gina: Thank you for the cake.
It’s short. It’s simple, and it’s an honest note of gratitude.
His reply is almost instant.
Daniel: Anything to put a smile on the face of my bride.
I read his text before sitting on the edge of my bed to read it a second and third time.
It’s that last time that lures a single tear to my eye, because for a split second, I allow myself to imagine what it might be like to be married to Daniel without an annulment looming on the horizon.
With trembling hands, I type out a message to him and press send.
Gina: I hope the trip goes well. I’ll see you when you’re back in New York.
Just as I’m about to tuck my phone into the pocket of my robe, it vibrates, indicating an incoming message.
I close my eyes and whisper, “I hope it’s one more from Daniel.”
A smile slides over my lips when I read his response:
Daniel: Thanks. Don’t forget to lick the frosting from the corner of your lips. I’ll see you soon.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Daniel
Twistingthe truth is never a good idea, especially if you’re doing it to avoid a discussion with your spouse.
In my case, I didn’t lie to Gina when I left her a note telling her that I was headed to Boston.
What I didn’t mention is that I’m the one who sought out the client I’m on my way to see in Massachusetts. She said months ago that when I found myself back in New York, I should carve out time to visit her.
I noticed her name when I was scrolling through my client list last night after Gina and I got home. A quick email later, and she invited me to join her for lunch today at her favorite restaurant overlooking Boston Harbor.
I push my phone into the pocket of my suit jacket as one of the flight attendants helps a man across the aisle from me cram his carry-on bag into the overhead compartment.
My fingers brush against the silver ring I’ve transferred from one jacket to another over the past few days.
When Gina discovered it last night, I told her the truth. I’m keeping it safe. I have no idea why the hell I’m doing that, but it feels important.
I slip the ring around the tip of my index finger and slide it out of my pocket.
I glance around before I take the ring and put it back where Gina first placed it that night in Vegas.
