"Janet, you used to love my cooking. Are you hungry? Would you like some?"
The gentle smile on his face left me briefly dazed.
The last time he'd cooked for me had probably been a year ago.
He'd been busy with clients. Busy working late.
Busy enough to shop with Lois and pay for her purchases, but unable to find time to make me a bowl of soup after I'd drunk on his behalf until my stomach bled.
I gave a cold laugh. "That's a pretty cheap apology."
He insisted on pressing the lunch box into my hands.
"I know you. You've definitely been too busy to eat. Can you stop putting your health at risk?"
I knocked his hand aside. The still-steaming food spilled onto the ground.
It was a waste, but I didn't want or need a meal from him.
I opened the car door.
Then, remembering something, I
