I stirred the spaghetti into the boiling water. It was a simple recipe, much simpler than Andrew was accustomed to at the mansion, but it harkened back to the early days of us dating, and I thought that he would appreciate the gesture. I knew that he would appreciate the marinara sauce.
I had messed up. I knew that I had, in more ways than one. I still had my trepidations about Lisa marrying Bob, and I did not want anyone else to suffer because Bob had it out for me, but I should not have confronted him on my own…or told Andrew about Lisa’s bruises.
A lot of pain could have been prevented if I hadn’t.
I could not take back what I had already done, but I could try to make up for it. So, I invited Andrew over to my apartment for a homemade dinner and some time alone. No servants, no Lisa
