“Okay. We’ll leave it for now.”

“You’re being a doctor. I thought you didn’t think like a doctor around me.”

“Statements like the one you made scream to the doctor in me.”

“I’m pitiful, aren’t I? A forty-one-year-old that’s afraid to be alone.”

“‘Pitiful’ is not a word I would ever use to describe you. Have you had anything to eat today? I could make you something.”

“I don’t think I can.” She thought of the nice lunch she shared with her mother, which ended up in the toilet. “Maybe just a glass of wine for now?”

“Alcohol is a depressant. I’m not sure if that’s the best—”

“I’m not planning to get drunk. I just want a glass.”

“Okay.” He patted her knee, and then he was coming to his feet. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “You can keep me company.”

She sipped from a glass of wine as she watched him prepare a plate of appetizers, his hands deftly wielding a knife as he sliced cheese, a couple of apples and what looked like fresh pepperoni. She couldn’t recall ever seeing Phil slice anything. “You cook.” It was more a statement than a question, but he answered.

“I do,” he agreed, fishing some olives out of a jar. “I’ll make something for you tonight if you’ll let me.”

“What am I keeping you from? It’s a Friday night. You must have had plans.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be.” He lifted the platter, picked up his wine glass and headed back to the family room. “How about a fire?”

She watched him crouch down in front of his fireplace, arranging several logs on the black grate, and found herself comparing his body to Phil’s. There was no question he wasn’t as big or broad, but he was clearly fit, and the image of a panther again came to mind.

“My first fire of the season,” he said after rejoining her, the orange glow from the fireplace instantly making the room cozier.

“It’s beautiful.”

She took the cracker he offered, taking a small bite as she watched him take one for himself, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching as he chewed. “So, no Emily tonight?”

“We’ve gone our separate ways.”

“Oh.” She dropped her eyes to her wine glass. “Sorry.”

“Are you?” He scooped up some almonds, holding his hand between them like a bowl. “Are you sorry?”

“No.” She took a few nuts and slowly ate them, adjusting her legs beneath her as she turned to face him, her shoulder sinking into the cushions of the couch.

“What’s your plan?” Nick asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You told me you kicked him out, but you seem to be the one who left.”