—Lena—
Eric clutches my hand tight, rushing me along the busy streets attempting to reach the restaurant in record speed.
“Eric, seriously, can you slow down,” I cry, struggling to keep up.
“I just don’t want to be late. Spago will bump you off if you aren’t on time.”
Spago is a very upbeat Spanish restaurant in Chelsea. As a treat for my birthday, Eric is taking me to dinner. I’m more than happy to stay at home and drown myself in my sorrows, but Eric suggests a day full of ‘us’ time—shopping, massages, pedis, and of course, dinner at the best restaurant to show off our newly dressed and pampered bodies.
“Here we are!”
We walk into the restaurant where crowds of people are standing in the bar area waiting to be served. All the tables are taken from what I can see,
