A New Melody Without Him

By the time I sat down, Adrian had already left with Chloe.

From my table on the mezzanine, I had a perfect view of them standing together on the sidewalk below, their fingers laced.

A sharp wind swept off the Chicago River. Adrian pulled off his cashmere scarf and wound it around Chloe's slender neck. Then he opened the back door of his car and lifted out an enormous bouquet of blue roses.

I couldn't hear what he said. I only saw Chloe cover her mouth in delight before throwing herself into his arms and kissing him.

A few blue petals broke loose and spun away on the wind.

I'd seen roses like those once, in a bridal magazine.

I could still remember reading their meaning aloud. "A miracle found nowhere else in the world. A love that can never be replaced."

Then I'd looked up at Adrian and smiled. "We should have blue roses at our wedding."

He hadn't even lifted his head.

"They're all show. Flowers are a stupid thing to waste money on."

I never mentioned them again.

That bridal magazine had been gathering dust in a drawer for years. Yet the flowers from its glossy pages had finally turned up in another woman's arms.

So blue roses weren't a waste after all.

They just weren't worth buying for me.

When my server arrived, she followed my gaze to the couple lingering outside and smiled with unmistakable envy.

"Mr. Shaw and Ms. Foster are adorable together, aren't they? They come in every Saturday."

I turned slowly toward her. "Every Saturday?"

"Without fail. Ms. Foster didn't know how to use a steak knife when they first started coming, so Mr. Shaw guided her hands and taught her how." The server laughed softly. "She loves our food, and he always leaves a very generous tip. They're hard to forget."

She set one dinner in front of me and placed the other at the empty seat across the table.

"Enjoy."

I cut off a piece of steak and put it in my mouth.

I didn't realize I was crying until a tear landed on my plate.

The meat tasted unbearably salty.

Last Saturday, I'd been burning with fever. I texted Adrian and asked him to bring home a bottle of electrolyte water.

Drink something hot, he replied. That works better than anything from a store.

The Saturday before that, a pipe burst upstairs. When I asked for help, he told me, You can handle it yourself.

I knew how busy he was. So I took myself to urgent care, then borrowed a wrench and fixed the leak alone.

I’d never imagined he was too busy romancing a pretty young woman to be there for me.

A bitter ache rose into my throat. I forced it back down and kept cutting, chewing, swallowing—bite after bite, tears and all.

If I finished everything, I told myself, at least I’d get my money’s worth.

My phone buzzed against the table.

Where are you? Adrian had written. Why aren’t you home?

When he first launched his company, I gave up my own career and devoted myself entirely to supporting him. He never carried a house key, because no matter when he came home, I always was there to let him in.

I typed, I'm celebrating our anniversary.

A question mark appeared, then vanished almost at once.

Whatever you're doing, get home. I have a business trip tomorrow.

In other words, he needed me to come back and pack his suitcase.

I silenced his messages, turned my phone facedown, and kept eating.

Warm light glowed around the dining room. Couples leaned close over candlelit tables. I was the only person eating two seven-hundred-dollar dinners alone, shoveling down food as if hunger could fill the hollow place inside me.

I couldn't taste a thing except bitterness.

I stayed until the restaurant closed.

Adrian's car was gone by the time I got home. A neatly packed steak dinner sat on the front step, proof that he'd stopped by.