I watched the clock. One minute. Two. Five. I sat at the kitchen table, hands folded, waiting. Ten minutes. Exactly ten minutes.
Then a shout cracked the quiet. “DA:MN IT!” It came from outside, ragged, desperate.
I stepped onto the porch, my expression as innocent as I could manage, the smile practiced to a perfect line. He was climbing out of his sedan, his face contorted, one hand clutching his stomach as if he were trying to outrun a wave.
He rushed toward the house, his voice hoarse. “What did you put in that coffee? I’m not going to make it!”
I placed a hand dramatically against my chest, feigning shock. “Honey… you’re not nervous about seeing someone, are you?” I asked, the words slipping out with a strange, sweet cadence.
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