He stared at me. “That was different.”
“No,” I replied quietly. “It was very specific.”
He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “My family is coming in six hours.”
“And you had three weeks to prepare for that.”
For the first time, panic flashed across his face. He grabbed his phone and began calling restaurants, but it was a holiday weekend in our town. Every decent place was booked, and last-minute catering was outrageously expensive. He muttered curses under his breath, paced around the kitchen, then accused me of embarrassing him on purpose.
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