I had to open the windows to carry the smell of my would-be dinner out of the house. I dumped the contents of the pot simmering on my stove into a trash bag and immediately took it to the curb.
Melissa came over to help me wash and scrub to get my kitchen back to its original condition. The clatter of pots and pans mingled with the sharp pop and hiss of every balloon I stabbed with my office scissors.
It took a little over an hour, but eventually, we cleared the evidence of Adams’s break with reality from the house.
“I really think he thought he was being romantic.” I scoured my living room floor for deflated pieces of rubber.
“You’re giving him too much credit. This s**t is loco. No sane man hijacks a key to a woman’s house and breaks into cook her Indian food.”
“He cooked this for m
