“No, she didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t email you on the sixteenth.”
“Sir, I’m staring at the email right now.”
“Son, Zoë and her husband were killed in a car accident six weeks ago.”
Stunned silence.
Husband?
“Are you still there? Adam, is it?”
“Yeah, but I don’t understand.”
“We don’t, either. Just like that, they were gone.”
For weeks, Adam had been planning the reunion with his soul mate only to find out that she was dead...and still married. And then there was the matter of the email, sent after her death. Crushed by confusion, disappointment, and sadness, Adam felt his heart crumble.
_____________________
Café Jazz was jumping for a Tuesday night. The small quartet and the Ella Fitzgerald sound-alike were jamming as the upscale crowd sipped on Cosmopolitans and searched for love, sex, or something in-between. It was Cooper’s hangout. The maven of hip fashion fed off the image she had created for herself. A cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, she was always the belle of the ball. Sexy, rich, and able to mix clothes like nobody’s business, Cooper was exciting to be around. Jen felt more than a little intimidated as she walked into the swank meat market filled with single, wealthy men in their 40s and 50s and well-dressed, beautiful women. Thankfully, she was wearing the black dress.
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