My husband called out of nowhere to say he was working late and couldn't make it home for dinner.
As luck would have it, my best friend had just texted me, so we decided to grab barbecue together.
As we passed a restaurant, she pointed at the table near the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Doesn't that guy look like your husband?"
I looked closer. Even though it was just a view of his back, I recognized Bruno Matthews instantly.
Across from him sat his new assistant, the one who'd joined the company less than a month ago.
Ellie Butler's brow furrowed slightly as she stared at the half-finished bowl of egg fried rice in front of her, looking troubled.
Bruno saw the look on her face and smiled indulgently. He reached over, took her leftover rice, and shoveled it into his mouth in a few quick bites. Not a single grain remained.
I froze.
Bruno had severe germaphobia. In three years of marriage, we had never once shared a dish.
One time I'd picked up a piece of fish for him and forgot to use the serving chopsticks. He dumped the entire bowl of rice along with the fish straight into the trash. The whole plate of fish I'd touched? He didn't take a single bite.