Marius texted me later that evening that he would be home around eight-thirty. I told him to take the time to clean up before he came over, that it was a special occasion and I wanted him to dress up. He texted back a question mark, but I simply replied with a smiley face emoticon.
Minutes before he arrived, I pulled the meatloaf out of the oven, and set it on the table beside the brown rice, green peas and grated carrots I’d already prepared. A green salad drizzled with vinaigrette dressing sat in a bowl. Cherry cheesecake waited in the refrigerator for dessert, and a chilled bottle of wine was in a bucket of ice between the lit candles on my late sister’s best tablecloth.
I was dressed in a pair of snug leather pants that Marius particularly liked to see me in, paired with a fitted och
