By the time the cab pulled up in front of my building, I’d convinced myself I was doing the right thing.
I lived in a one-bedroom, one-bath condo on the eleventh floor of a high rise in Chicago’s Streeterville neighborhood. It was an older building without a lot of the amenities that the newly constructed downtown condos had, but I’d gotten a good price for it and I liked it. Because I’d saved money on the purchase price, I was able to do extensive renovations, gutting the kitchen and bathroom to put in new marble countertops and updated fixtures, having new hardwood floors installed, and painting every room in warm, earthy colors. I had hoped Donovan and I would eventually buy a bigger, nicer place together, but every time I’d brought up the subject of cohabitation, he’d either give me s
