Jack looked over the wine glass at Dianna. The light was low. It was late and Riley was asleep on the couch between them. The television was muted and flickering images cast moving shadows around the room.

     Dianna was sketching, and he was watching her while she sketched, wishing he had even an ounce of her talent that he could capture this quiet moment between them.

     He should go home.

     He should pick Riley up and carry him back to his own bed and then crawl into bed himself.

     That’s what he should do, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move.

     Dianna wore stretchy yoga pants and a loose...