f**k!
Why is she still talking with him? We are not officially back together, but still, my heart congests painfully in my chest. She can’t be mine alone for good. There’s always something or someone dissuade against us. I walk away, feeling crushed.
I sit in front of our dinner, and still no signs of Samantha. I look at the table I prepared—the green salad seems to mock me. The broiled lobsters with wine, garlic, and lemon butter, and grilled asparagus will get cold if she will not show up sooner.
What are they talking about that takes too much of her time? I lean on the chair with clenched my jaw and squeeze my eyes shut.
A few minutes later, I hear footsteps—It’s her, freshly showered, makeup-free face, and her hair is still wet. She’s only wearing very thin light pink spaghetti str
