Stella
I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes late on Monday, even though I had left my apartment super early. The uptown local train I’d taken had decided to become an express and skipped my stop.
When I entered, Olivia was already seated at a table. She looked so different out of her wedding garb that I almost didn’t recognize her. But she waved and smiled like we were old friends.
I had this wild notion stuck in my head that she didn’t really want to order any perfume, but was luring me here so she could give me a piece of her mind in person—or worse yet, have me arrested. Her inviting smile did a lot to diffuse my paranoia.
“Hi.” I set the box in my arms down on an empty seat and pulled out the chair across from her. “I’m sorry I’m late. My train skipped the stop.”
“No problem.
