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” “Why thank you, Andrew. I'm sure we will call on you for something,” she said. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she spoke and she laughed with her husband. I am not sure how I remained standing as my legs were like jelly. Her accent was slow and southern but very, very sexy. I averted my eyes, excused myself and left to the safety of the kitchen to wipe my brow. I looked after my other customers on this busy evening and tried to leave the lady in red in peace, as much for her benefit as for mine. They were in no hurry and spent time holding hands, leaning over the table to kiss and at times his hands disappeared from the table, no doubt to take in some of the exposed skin from ankle to hem line. She called me over with a subtle wave of her hand. For the first time I went to her side of the table where she was sitting back a little. I noticed two things immediately as if I were meant to notice them. Firstly the skirt had inched its way up her thighs. Although her legs were held. Still, even as I stand here, I imagine he is with me. He never truly left me, right? But, all I can hear are the tears of the gray sky behind me. Are they his tears?! He misses me too. I know it. I finally shut the door. I slip off my shoes on to the rug and begin the climb up the stairs. The king sized bed is made perfectly on his side. Not another man shall ever share it with me. I promise this. I strip down to nothing but my bra and panties. I reach for the nightgown that he had bought me. I plan to make dinner. But all I can do is hold the gown against my barely beating heart. It should cease. I love him. I am nothing without him. Nothing. I stand here for a moment. I shall skip dinner. All I want is a drink: Something, anything to numb the pain. I walk down the stairs with a death grip on the gown and into the kitchen. Slowly, I open the refrigerator. The cool air feels so welcoming. I look around and fumble through the bottles: Whisky, Vodka, Bailey’s Irish Cream, and Wine..
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