Fighting off the familiar feeling of panic, Jane followed the maître d’ across the restaurant, stick tapping against table legs.
“What’s the gentleman’s name?” he asked. “I’ll bring him over.”
“Bob,” Jane whispered, hoping no one heard. “I don’t know his surname.”
It was years since she’d eaten out. Robert hadn’t liked other men staring at her; said she embarrassed him. Don’t look back, she told herself. She’d escaped, and now, on her councillor’s suggestion, was on a date.
Hearing footsteps approaching, she braced herself, hoping he wouldn’t be disappointed with her.
“Hello, Jane,” said the icy voice of her ex-husband.