chapter 4
Kobe could handle spicy food, but he didn’t enjoy it. He would never suggest that place on his own. I should have been thrilled. Instead, all I felt was a profound emptiness.
I knew better than to expect Kobe to pick me up. So I called a car myself. And once again, my instincts were right.
On the way to the Sichuan restaurant, we passed by his office building, and there he was. I watched from my car window as Kobe, a faint smile on his face, shielded Lola’s head with his hand as she slipped into the passenger seat of his car. A cold certainty washed over me.
I unlocked my phone. Sure enough, a series of new messages were there. Lola’s joining us for dinner. She’s been working so hard lately, hasn’t had a decent meal in days. She doesn’t like spicy food. We’ll go to that Sichuan place another time, I promise. I’ve booked a different restaurant. Sending you the new address now.
I switched off the screen and told the driver to continue to the original destination.
Kobe had already canceled our reservation, so I had to wait in line. The place was packed. It took an hour before I was seated. My phone buzzed incessantly in my purse, but I ignored it, focusing only on the food.
The spice was so authentic it brought tears to my eyes. But it was a good burn—a cleansing one.
Only after I’d paid the bill did I finally take out my phone. As I suspected, it was flooded with over a dozen missed calls and messages from him.
Are you there yet? Are you throwing a fit again? I told you I’d take you next time. Lola has a sensitive stomach. She can’t eat spicy food. You’re practically her sister-in-law, can’t you be a little more understanding? Now she feels so guilty she can’t even eat. Get over here now.
The same old script. But it was more than we had texted each other in the last month combined.