“John, finally!” I call out, stepping through the turnstile. “Are you ready? I’m

about to hop on the subway, on my way to your place. I’ll be there in ten

minutes, max.”

“Abby,” he croaks, and instantly, I know something’s not right. I freeze in my

tracks. The life and vibrancy in his voice are gone, replaced by something that

sounds a lot like misery.

“John? You sound awful. Are you okay?”

He coughs. “I… I was up all night, throwing up. I feel terrible, Abby.” His voice

sounds like a poker being raked over hot coals.

Enter title…

Instantly, the scolding mom in me surfaces. “Oh my God, John, did you drink too

We talked about this—today is important! I

a couple drinks each, no

interrupts,

I swear, Abby. It’s

my heart practically

food poisoning or something.

have to go to the hospital

runs cold, my hand tightening

“Hospital? Are

you think I would joke

Especially today?”

cuts through me, and instantly, I

coughs again and clears his throat, and I can practically

wince from the

coffee cup so tight

but I think it goes without saying that

chef for

mind races, flipping through a whole host of emotions—worry

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