.

.

.

The car ride home was quiet on my end.

Michael chatted excitedly about how well the dinner had gone, how much he liked that his dad and I seemed to connect, and how perfect everything felt. I nodded along, murmuring agreements, but my mind was elsewhere — replaying the shock on Richard’s face, the heat in his whispered words, the way his knee had pressed against mine under the table.

My phone buzzed in my purse several times during the drive. I didn’t check it. I knew it was him.

When we got home, Michael pulled me close the moment the door closed.

“Tonight was amazing,” he...