“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

about this—today is important!

have a couple drinks

you don’t get it,” he interrupts, his voice shaky. “I only had

more. I swear,

it, then?” I asked, my

“I think it’s food poisoning or something. Look, I’m really, really

go to the

cold, my hand tightening around my phone until my knuckles

Are you

course, I’m sure. Do you think I would

Especially today?”

cuts through me, and

him. He coughs again and clears his throat,

from the

John,” I murmur, clutching my coffee cup so tight I might crush

it goes without saying that

sous chef for the

a whole host of emotions—worry

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