For a moment, I couldn’t move. Then, my body acted before my brain did. I stood shaking, cheeks burning, vision blurring.
I didn’t even grab my purse. I just turned toward the door.
And then, behind me, I heard a voice.
It was soft and familiar.
“Elizabeth? Is that you?
It is you, isn’t it?”
My husband spun around, red-faced, his voice loud enough to turn even more heads at nearby tables.
“Who are you?” he snapped. “And why are you involving yourself in family matters?”
I turned slowly, still trembling, my hands clenched at my sides. And there he was, standing a few feet away, wearing a gray wool coat and that familiar half-smile I hadn’t seen in over a decade.
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