At this hour, few guests visited the restaurant. He followed the hostess along the mahogany floor, past tables lit with low lamps and adorned with tropical flowers. Three men sat around a circular booth, all with open laptops and chatting in Italian. Over at a corner table, a couple sat close, leaning toward each other and talking quietly.

When they reached the two-top tables that sat along the window looking out over the river, he spotted Cynthia. She sat alone, staring outside with a pensive look on her face.

He halted and considered the tactical situation. He owed her an apology for raising his voice, at the very least. He allowed himself a small sigh and gestured toward her table. “I’ll join her.” He took the menu from the hostess. “Thank you.”

He stood there for a moment watching Cynthia before he stepped up to the table. She looked rested, relaxed. He had never seen her this way. It made her look younger, smaller, vulnerable.

He approached the table. “May I join you, Cynthia?”

She jumped, possibly unfamiliar with the sight of him in civilian clothes with clean hair and skin. Then the relaxed look slid from her face as recognition dawned and her guard came back up. “Of course. Please.”

He sat down. A clean place setting was in front of her, so she hadn’t yet eaten.

She held up her cell phone. “I’ve been reading texts I’ve missed for the past five months. So much life happening in such a short amount of time.” She studied his face. “You look better. How is your head?”

He touched the bandage. “Sergeant Waller insisted I get stitches, despite my objections.”

She smiled with closed lips. “I think I told you the same thing. When someone with my training insists that you need stitches, best guess is that you probably need stitches.”

He could tell she wasn’t reprimanding him but teasing him. He glanced at the menu. “What did you order?”

“Something with chicken and rice. There’s a lamb dish on there that sounded good too. I almost ordered both.”

The waiter arrived. Rick ordered the lamb dish with double meat and a bottle of water. When the waiter left, he looked out at the river. The moonlight reflected on the surface of the water.

“Doctor, I owe you an apology,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yeah, earlier today—” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was exhausted and still a little amped up. Coming back from a mission is always a little hard on me. Knowing that about myself should have kept me from saying anything at all. Instead, I raised my voice at you, and I said things I didn’t mean.”

“Well,” she said, picking up her water, “at least I know you want to be friends.”