He smiled, and she felt warmth spread through her and spill into those gaps. Her heart beat faster and stronger.

There was so much charm in his smile. She was pretty sure that he’d be single for as long as he chose to be and not a moment longer.

“You seem to have turned out all right.” He was in no hurry to leave. “I’ve been worrying my girls won’t be okay. That their lives are ruined. But here you are. You give me hope that we might get through this.”

There was a strength to him, a seam of steel, that made her sure he would get through anything.

“You’ll find a way.” She was instantly embarrassed. “Sorry. That sounded trite. Like one of those self-help quotes that pop up on the internet. Live your best life.” The fact that he smiled felt like an achievement.

“I hate those quotes. Especially the ones that tell you to dance in the rain.”

“I love dancing in the rain.” Better than dancing in her apartment, where her elbows knocked against the walls and her neighbors complained about the noise.

His gaze held hers and again there was that feeling of warmth. “Do you get a lunch break? Would you join me for something to eat? Or a coffee?”

Her heart woke up. Was he asking her on a date?

“Well—”

“You’re wondering if I’m a crazed serial killer. I’m not. But you’re the first person I’ve talked to in a long time who seems to understand.”

She saw that his eyes were green, not blue. And she saw that he looked tired. Maybe he was aware of that, because he gave a faint smile and she found herself smiling back. The brief moment of connection shocked her. It was the closest she’d been to experiencing intimacy with another person in a long time. Ironic, she thought, that it was with a stranger.

“I don’t think you’re crazed, and I don’t think you’re a serial killer.”

“I asked you for coffee because you’re easy to talk to.” The focus of his gaze shifted somewhere behind her. “I’m assuming that scary-looking woman glaring at me is your boss?”

Flora didn’t even need to look. “Yes.”

“In which case I’m going to get you fired if I stand here talking any longer. I don’t want that on my conscience. Thank you for listening, Flora. And thank you for the advice.”

He was handling two traumatized girls by himself. Wounded. Hurting.

Who looked after him? Did he have no one supporting him?

He’d lost his wife, who’d clearly been perfect in every way. Becca. It seemed deeply unfair that people who had managed to find each other in this busy, complex world, should then lose each other. Maybe that was worse than never finding someone in the first place.