More coupe glasses of champagne are handed out. A woman f***s her sub with a strap-on and I squirm in my seat. We’re given finger foods and hors d’oeuvres.
And still no Rebecca.
I check my phone I don’t know how many times. I send text after text—trying to be easy and calm and not clingy—but I don’t feel easy or calm right now. I feel like I want to cry. I feel like I want to crawl under the table and hide.
Rebecca is never late. Rebecca never sends me straight to voicemail.
I’m fine, she said. Nothing else. No excuses, no apologies, nothing at all.
Am I being stood up? Was I right all this time that she didn’t want to scene publicly with me because she was embarrassed? Does she want to hide me from her friends? I can live without her loving me—I think—but I don’t know if I
