“It looked gross,” she said.
Gross. My leftover ribeye from the night before. The one I paid almost ninety dollars for.
“Sitting there in the fridge. All cold and gray. So, I tossed it.”
I peered into the kitchen garbage can just to make sure.
“You weren’t going to eat that, were you?” she asked.
I was. Of course, I was. I didn’t spend a good portion of my paycheck at the fanciest steakhouse in the city not to.
“Well, you can always go again tomorrow.”
And suddenly moving in with my girlfriend didn’t seem like such a splendid idea.
