The guys are starving.”
I smiled too.
I served his friends. I asked whether anyone wanted more salad. I brought out the bread and the sauces.
Richard touched my waist as I passed him.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said.
I nearly laughed.
Sweetheart.
He had called me a useless woman less than ten minutes earlier.
That night, after everyone left, he kissed my cheek and went upstairs.
I washed the dishes in silence.
Then I sat at the kitchen table until nearly three in the morning.
I did not cry.
I
