I broke a rule of etiquette within this hierarchy. I dared to speak first and order my food without permission from my man. This is the aftermath, and now dinner will be a fucking ball.

I feel sick. Anxiety gives way to nausea, and I clench my hands on my lap under the table to hide my discomfort. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole. Sure my heated face is the red blush of embarrassment at causing this. My body stiff and on high alert, blood running cold.

I ...