I had not always lived this way.
My second husband left with most of my savings and a note that said he needed to « find himself. »
After that, I stopped looking.
Until Richard.
I met him six months ago at a charity gala for the children’s hospital. I had been standing near the bar, trying to remember if I had locked my car, when a tall man in a charcoal suit leaned in and said, « You look like a woman who already regrets agreeing to come tonight. »
I laughed before I could stop myself.
« That obvious? »
« Only to someone who feels the same way, » he said, and offered his hand. « Richard. »
He was 55, silver at the temples. The kind of man who pulled out chairs without making a show of it and remembered the next morning that I took my coffee with one sugar and a splash of cream.
