Wrong Number: My Sweetest Goodbye

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hodically wiping down the marble countertops, the scent of lemon and bleac

r at before I downshifted my career to support his. I had spent hours baking his favorite red velvet cake from scratc

ck drink with the team to celebrate the merg

ousel of photos from a chic downtown bar: Drake with his arm around Kandace as she blew out a single candle on a cupc

loosening his tie, a picture of

He walked over to the cake, still perfect under its glass

cream across my cheek. It was a gesture that was meant

I just st

lvet," I said

made

Ye

owned. "It' s a little lumpy. And the color' s

t, that it was the thought that counted. The new Eliza simply picked up a napkin, wiped the frosting from her f

brows. He was expecting a reaction, a spark to ignite

g. The love-bombing phase was about

s briefcase. "Your favorite spicy

said, my voice devoid of accusatio

a second. "Right. Well, I saved you

ings like a tourist in his own kitchen. A moment later, he dis

er was still running. With a sigh, I walked over and pulled the door open. A cloud of acr

ance, his phone, left on the counter, li

t wait to make all your futu

fresh shirt slung over his shoulder. He saw me standing by the

ing through my phone?" he

still heavy with the day' s exhaustion. He snatched t

the one I' d burned on the oven rack while pulling out his

ot ti

arm. A searing, white-hot pain shot from my wrist t

, splashing soup across the pr

t look at my arm, which was alrea

ne, his thumb furiously d