Cosati

She hurried down the street, scarcely sparing a glance to the couples strolling happily along. It seemed like all of them wore faded jeans. They were tall and lean with too much long, dark hair. They meandered with their hands tucked into each other's pockets or laughed at a private joke they murmured with heads bent together.

All Susan wanted to do was get back to her room and shut the door. To sink into the overly white bed amid the fluffed up pillows and forget all about Brett and this whole evening.

When he invited her to Little Italy, Susan should have known better than to trust him again. She really should have. But he promised her a weekend "just like our moon days" at her favorite inn. Dinner at Cosati had been a disaster.

Of course, Brett's wife was in the picture again. When he finally admitted, flushed, fumbling, refusing to meet Susan's eyes that he wouldn't be joining her for the weekend after all, that in fact, he had to be back home by 10 pm before Lisette suspected where he really was, Susan had felt a surge of lightening shoot through her entire body. And just like that, it was over.

Now she wanted to get back and sleep. In the morning, she would leave this town for good and begin her real life.