Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
The waiter returned with the menus, but Richard did not look at his. He already knew what he wanted, ordering the ribeye for himself and the black cod for me before I could open the leather cover.
“I remember you loved the cod here when we came five years ago,” he said, waving the waiter away.
“I did,” I said.
He reached across the table and took my hand, his palm warm. “We have a lot of good memories in this neighborhood, you know.”
I looked down at his hand, tracing the neat, clean line of his cuff. “We do.”
“I want to make more,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying that familiar, persuasive tone. “We just need to clear the air, get past this rough patch, and look forward.”
“The paperwork,” I said, keeping my voice flat.
“Let us not talk about the estate tonight,” he said quickly, waving his hand. “Tonight is about you and me, nothing else.”
He took another drink of his champagne, his eyes scanning the room before returning to my face. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”
