“Cass, come eat.”
Looking at the steaming dishes on the table, I felt a rush of happiness fill me.
As we ate, I mentioned to Samuel the conversation I had with Starla earlier that day.
Clink!
The sound of Samuel’s spoon dropping onto the table echoed in the quiet room, his face suddenly filled with visible panic.
“What’s going on?” I asked, puzzled, staring at him.
Samuel hurriedly picked up the spoon and, trying to act normal, served me a spoonful of braised pork.
“It’s nothing. I just... I’ve never met someone so outrageous. I was a little shocked, that’s all.”
But I wasn’t really listening. My mind was still on the braised pork in my bowl.
Because I never eat braised pork.
The next evening, after work, I was about to collapse onto the couch when I noticed Samuel’s briefcase sitting there.
I picked it up to straighten things out and felt something in the side pocket. Pulling it out, I was met with a notebook.
With trembling hands, I opened it.
It was a fine printed marriage certificate.
I held my breath, my hands shaking as I flipped it open. The names on it were unmistakable—Samuel Pearce and Starla Pearce.
In that instant, my mind went blank, as if everything exploded in my head.