Ricky

Fuck.

It isn’t until I’m waiting for the waiter to bring back my credit card that I look at what Marilyn entered. As soon as the screen is visible, I feel the fucking floor drop out from under me.

Shit.

Clenching my teeth, I look toward the front of the restaurant, hoping I can catch her, but I know she’s gone. Not only didn’t I remember that Marilyn’s number was in my phone, but I sure as hell forgot that I had do ...