Wearing an Emerald Green Dress on My Birthday Cost Me My Husband

like starch and hot metal. I ran the silver plate of the iron down the sleeve of Damon’s white button-down shirt, pressing the crease flat.

Damon sat at the kitchen table, his finger tracing the edge of a printed menu he had pulled up on his laptop. He adjusted his collar, though he was only wearing his gray undershirt.

“Thirty-four continue reading …