It was our tenth wedding anniversary, and my husband, Mark, had promised to make it unforgettable. I had imagined an evening of indulgence, with delectable courses and sparkling wine.
As we were seated, I noticed the knowing smiles exchanged between the waitstaff. They seemed familiar with Mark. He had booked a table at “La Belle Époque,” the most expensive restaurant in town. It was the kind of place reserved for momentous occasions, and tonight was supposed to be one.