"Say whatever you want about anyone, but never Selma. Do it again and you're fired." The deep, magnetic voice cut the air short.
When I stepped out, I ran straight into Spencer with his arm around Selma.
The instant our eyes met, panic flickered across his face. He quickly shielded Selma's view and signaled for me to disappear.
Only after Selma was gone did he corner me in the break room.
"What were you doing in my office?"
"I finally got Selma calmed down. Don't go stirring things up again."
"How exactly am I stirring things up? Weren't you the one who started it?" I shot back.
He had no answer for that.
"I was drunk. Forget it, I won't hold it against you."
"I'm setting up a dinner tonight. You're going to explain to Selma that nothing happened between us."
That was exactly what I wanted, so I nodded.
He left satisfied, then turned back as something occurred to him.
"It's going to rain today. Remember to put the ointment on your leg, or it'll start aching again."
For a moment I drifted, as if I were back at the first time he got left at the altar.
After I'd stopped him from going any further, I'd hauled that six-foot man,
all the way back to the home he shared with Selma.
I was only a few steps short when my body suddenly gave out from under me, my knee slamming hard onto the stone steps.
The bone cracked. The pain was so bad they had to put me under at the hospital before I could sleep.
I woke to an empty room, and a post on his feed about making up with Selma.
"He knows to come home. That's enough for me."
The tears fell. I couldn't bear to let him go, and still I wished him well.
But that night he left the fiancée he'd just reconciled with and sat by me at the hospital till morning.
"You got hurt because of me. How could I forget what matters the second a pretty face shows up? Selma will understand."
After that, every rainy day, he came to put the ointment on for me.
I had too many projects on my plate, and before I knew it the workday was over.
Spencer rapped his knuckles on my desk.
"Let's go. Selma's agreed to hear you out."
The drive to the restaurant was strangely heavy. Spencer wasn't cracking his usual jokes either.
The moment we sat down, I hurried the hotel security footage over to Selma.
"Selma, I only walked him into the room and left in under five minutes."
"Nothing really happened between us."
"And I've already resigned. I'm leaving to work abroad soon."
"I won't be in your way anymore."
Her expression was complicated. She sighed.
"Forget it. So where are you headed next?"
"Headed where?" Spencer came back from parking the car and slid an affectionate arm around Selma's shoulders.
"She's not going anywhere. There's no one over there she cares about." He winked at me.
I turned my face away. There was no one here I cared about anymore, either.
Halfway through the meal he swapped the main dish from his own set with Selma's, smiling at her with that doting look.
"Selma doesn't eat shrimp, but the soup that comes with this set is the one thing she loves!"
He didn't eat shrimp either, which was why, after we married in my last life, I never cooked it again.
And right up to the day I died, he never remembered I was allergic to caffeine.
So it turns out love and the lack of it really are obvious.
I raised my hand and had the server take away the coffee he'd ordered for me.
Just then, a server bringing dishes to the next table lost their grip and tipped over a pot of scalding chili oil.
The heavy stainless steel basin hit the floor with a deafening crash.
"Ah!"
The terror came rushing back. I clutched my head, shaking all over, not even noticing the arm that had been scalded red.
"Miss, are you all right? Get up, let me take you to the restroom to run cold water on it."
I don't know how long it lasted before the server's gentle voice pulled me back to reality.
Only then did I see Spencer, shielding an unharmed Selma and comforting her over and over.
He hadn't spared me a single glance, as if I were a stranger at the next table.
