We sat at our favourite table by the window. I could tell you were restless the moment your gaze drifted past me.

You couldn’t stop staring, even letting your skirt ride higher as you leaned forward. I knew you were trying to catch his attention.

Then came the lip licking, bold and deliberate, usually reserved for me.

You ducked behind the menu when he walked toward us, as if you hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing.

As he reached our table, you lowered the menu with theatrical sweetness and announced, ‘I’ll have the chocolate fudge cake. What are you having?'