The Cake in a Dog's Bowl
I ended my negotiations in Geneva a day early.
I planned to fly back to our Boston Seaport apartment to arrange a birthday surprise for Linus Hayes.
But the scene that greeted me when I pushed open the apartment door was pure chaos.
Linus was already celebrating his birthday early with his advisor's daughter, Lisa Reed.
In place of my gray silk bedsheets were Lisa’s favorite pink floral ones.
Even the marble countertop was covered in skincare products that weren't mine.
It was as if my two-week business trip had erased all trace of me.
Worse, the smart lock code had been changed.
I rang the doorbell. When the door opened, it revealed Linus’s astonished face.
"What are you doing back so early?"
Instead of answering, my gaze swept over the living room.
On the table, the antique porcelain plates I had collected from Italy were filled with Lisa's favorite Japanese food. A birthday cake sat in the center of the table.
"Celebrating early, are we? And I didn't even get an invite?"
I reached for the cake, but Lisa immediately frowned.
"I'm sorry, Mandy, but I have a lot of allergies. Could you please use a different plate?"
But the cupboard was empty; there were no extra plates.
Then, Linus picked up our Golden Retriever Buster's food bowl from the floor, scooped a piece of cake into it, and handed it to me.
"There are no other bowls in the house right now, Mandy. You'll just have to make do."