“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

night? We talked about this—today

a couple

you don’t get it,” he interrupts, his

swear, Abby.

then?” I asked, my heart practically pounding out of my

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

I might even have to go to the hospital

runs cold, my hand tightening around my phone until my knuckles

“Hospital? Are

think I would joke

Especially today?”

in his voice cuts through me, and instantly, I feel a little

him. He coughs again and clears

from

my coffee cup so tight

goes without saying that there’s no way

chef for the competition

through a whole host of

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