In the morning he called the restaurant and placed a second order. He asked if they could send the same driver who had come the previous night. He was told they could not guarantee specific drivers. He asked anyway.
He added a note to the order.
You forgot something. Come back.
The note was not literal — she had left nothing behind. But it was the only phrasing that felt true to what he was actually trying to say.
When the doorbell
rang that evening, his heart did something that, given his fitness level and general physiological baseline, he found somewhat embarrassing.
Charlotte stood at the door. Pale, concerned, holding another paper bag with the posture of someone who has convinced herself she is about to be reprimanded.
“Did I do something wrong last night?” she said immediately. “Please tell me what I did so I can fix it. They’ll fire me and I can’t lose this job right now.”
