10 Years Later

“That’s perfect, thank you,” I said, and he scurried off.

My wine arrived, and I contemplated for a moment whether I should wait for Dalton, or order him a glass as well. I did neither and sipped my wine as I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. It was embarrassing to sit alone in a nice restaurant while you waited for someone else to show up. I felt like everyone’s eyes were fixed on me, even though logically, I knew they weren’t. It was in that moment that I realized I hated having my back to people too. But I suffered through it for Dalton.

Glancing down at my phone, which I’d sat on the table next to my silverware, I noted that it was ten after five. He was late, but not late enough for me to be truly worried. LA traffic could be a nightmare, and for all I knew, Dalton was stuck in it.

I stared at my phone every few minutes, typing out text messages to him as I wondered where the heck he was. Richard the waiter continued to cast sad glances my way as the seat reserved for Dalton remained empty.

Cammie: Are you on your way? Our waiter keeps looking at me like I’m a lost puppy. Hurry up! : )

Cammie: Still nothing? All right, well, I’m bound to be good and loosened up by the time you get here. The wine is pretty spectacular.

Cammie: Okay, I’m starting to worry.

Cammie: Dalton! I’m really starting to lose it here.

Panic slowly started to creep in. It was so subtle that I barely even noticed it at first. Minutes turned into half an hour, and he still hadn’t arrived. I pr

essed the button on my cell phone again, watching as the screen lit up to reveal no new messages, and telling me it was now 5:47.

I finally called Dalton’s phone, fidgeting in my chair as it went straight to voice mail. I sent him another text message as well, just to cover all my bases.

Cammie: Where are you?

By the time an hour had come and gone with no sign of Dalton, I was in full-fledged freak-the-fuck-out mode. I was sweating, my heart pounding so hard it could probably be seen beating through my top. Terror ripped through me, filling my mind with devastating thoughts.

Something was wrong. Where was he? Something had happened to Dalton; I just knew it.

Sensing I was about to lose my cool, I knew I needed to get out of the restaurant before I exploded. What the hell was happening to me? Complete and utter panic consumed me as I waved Richard over.

“I’m really sorry,” I told my waiter. “I guess he’s not coming. Can I just get the check for the bread and the wine?” My mouth was so cottony with fear, I was surprised I could even get the words out.

Richard disappeared quickly before returning empty-handed. “My manager says it’s on the house, miss. I’m sorry about your date.” He looked so sympathetic, as if I’d just been stood up. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?”

Dazed, I shook my head. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

My stomach twisted as anxiety washed through me. Terror, sadness, and an ache there were no words for enveloped me. The walls closed in around me, and I desperately needed to get the fuck out of there before I got sick all over their beautiful imported flooring.

I shoved out of the chair and raced out of the restaurant, thankful that my legs moved me at all. Not caring about the concerned looks in my wake, I barely noted the tears spilling down my cheeks, blurring my vision as I raced for the security of my car. Once I was locked inside, my panic only continued to grow.

My heart was beating so violently that I was convinced I was having a heart attack. This wasn’t normal, what I was experiencing. I needed to go to the hospital, but I couldn’t drive there.

I couldn’t believe that I was going to die in a fucking parking lot. I opened my mouth wider, trying to suck in more air, to take deeper breaths, but my chest refused. It felt like it was caving in on top of me each time I tried. I was definitely dying.

Pressing the speed dial button for Kristy, I rocked in my seat as the sound of ringing filled my ears.

“What’s up, hooker?” she said cheerfully.

“Something’s wrong,” I choked out through my tears. “I think I’m dying.”

“What? You’re not dying. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Cammie, what happened?”

Kristy’s concern should have been soothing, but it did nothing to ease my current state of mind. I swiped at my wet cheeks, trying not to sob as I spoke.

“Dalton didn’t show up. We had a date and he never showed. But I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Well, I’m sure he just got tied up at work or something,” she said, attempting to calm me down, but it only made things worse. “Did you try to call him?”

I wanted to reach through the airwaves and strangle her. “Of course I tried to call him. It went straight to voice mail. Did you hear me about the heart attack?”