16
While waiting for her order, Felicia crossed her legs as she gently removed her marquise-shaped, gold earrings. Her grandfather had gifted that to her when they had first told her of marrying Steve Armani.
That useless idler who wouldn't give her the life she needed. Scoffing, Felicia dropped the gold earrings on the silver-coated table as she stared at it. She could vividly remember the old man's voice.
"This belonged to Liz before she left me. You should take it. Its style is evocative of the baroque fashion, reminding me of you." He had said, handing her the gold earrings accentuated with magenta and gray, octagon-cut gem.
"Your order is ready." The tall, ivory-skinned waiter who stood beside her table said, his lips curved into a smile as he laid down first, a plate of cheeseste
