Now I wanted to see whether she could sit at my table and look me in the eye.
Daniel sent her a message.
Can we have dinner at Mom and Dad’s on Sunday? Mom’s making roast.
Her response arrived almost immediately.
Of course 🩷
I stared at the heart for a long time.
Then I put my phone away.
Sunday came with clear skies and a mild breeze. I woke early and began preparing the meal.
I chopped vegetables, seasoned the meat, and set the table with the good plates.
At one point, I caught myself arranging the flowers the way Jenna liked them.
I stopped.
Then I finished arranging them anyway.
Not for her.
For myself.
I wanted that dinner to look like the home I had built, even if the family I had built it for was falling apart.
Daniel arrived at five forty.
He came into the kitchen, looked at the roast, and gave me a strained smile.
