"Sure. Except that she's texting you every sixty seconds. So why don't you show me a picture of her?"

Paul evaded the question. For the same reason he didn't want to send Jenna a picture of his mother, he didn't want either of them to see how much they looked like each other. He made a feeble excuse of needing to go to the rest room.

He left the table and went to shut himself into a stall in the men's room, feeling relieved for the moment of privacy. Leaning against the side of the stall, he cupped his hand over the growing bulge in his pants, firmly rubbing his...