He stood in the doorway, undecided.

"Come on," I told him. "Grab a plate and help yourself."

He waited until I was done serving myself before coming in to get himself a plate. I sat at the small kitchen table instead of going into the dining room, leaving him with the choice of having a cozy dinner with me or taking his plate to the counter and eating there.

He chose to come sit by me.

I popped open a bottle of wine and poured myself a glass, but I didn't offer him any. "I assume you're on the job," I offered as an explanation.

"You would be right," he...