I stepped back, my heel catching slightly on the edge of a concrete planter filled with dying marigolds.
“Are you coming inside or not?” I asked.
He looked at the brass entrance, then back at me, his face hardening into the expression he used when the monthly bills were higher than he liked.
“I told you my terms,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his keys and letting them jingle in his palm. “You want to make a spectacle of yourself, you do it alone.”
He climbed back into the driver’s seat and slammed the door with a heavy thud that rattled the passenger window.
I stood on the cold pavement, the wind whipping the green silk around my knees. The headlights of our car flickered on, cutting through the autumn dusk and bathing my legs in yellow light.
He shifted the car into reverse, the reverse lights casting a stark white glow onto the brick wall behind the parking spaces. The tires crunched slowly on the gravel as he backed out of the slot.
I did not turn around to watch him pull out of the driveway. My mother’s pearl earrings felt heavy against my neck, cold and solid, a weight that seemed to pull my chin down toward the concrete.
A group of four diners walked past me from the municipal lot, their laughter dropping off as they glanced at my face. I kept my chin up, staring at the brass handle of the heavy wooden door, refusing to look at them.
Would he actually drive all the way back to our kitchen and leave me here on the sidewalk?
The thought of walking into the dining room alone made my stomach tighten, but the image of Jake, Lily, and Noah sitting at a table with an empty chair was worse. They had saved for this dinner for two months, trading shifts at the hardware store and the clinic.
I reached out and pulled the heavy door open, the brass cool under my fingers.
The heat of the lobby hit me first, a thick wave of air carrying the scent of roasted garlic and melted butter. The low hum of twenty different conversations drifted from the dining room behind a partition of dark oak.
A young woman in a black blazer stood behind the podium, holding a stack of leather-bound menus against her chest.
“Good evening, welcome to The Gilded Lantern,” she said, her smile fading slightly as she looked at my face.
I reached up and touched my cheek, finding it wet. I had not realized I was crying until the warm air touched my skin, making the cold wind on my neck feel even sharper.
“I have a reservation,” I said, my voice shaking more than I wanted it to, though I tried to steady my breathing. “Under the name Miller.”
