Lana

Lana didn’t plan to wear the blouse that showed so much cleavage to dinner, but something in her needed to feel seen tonight. Bob still folds her coat and warms the car, but diabetes stole his passion from her, and he can no longer give her what she aches for. He loves her enough to let her seek it elsewhere. Bob allows it as long as it’s only physical, and she always comes home. At McKinley’s Pub, over the hum of voices and clink of glasses, she catches your gaze from across the bar. You don’t look away. For the first time in weeks, Lana feels that dangerous warmth again, low and impossible to ignore.