“A little chirpy,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. She took a sip of her drink. “This is not Grey Goose,” she sighed. “Is it really that hard?” But she smiled.

“Tell me about when you were a little kid. Did you always want to be a social worker?” It was a dumb question.

“How are our drinks?” said the waitress, there again.

“They’re great,” Sarah all but growled. To her credit, it hadn’t been thirty seconds since the drink was delivered.

“Super!” The waitress was like Tigger, bouncing off. Josh and Octavia had watched a Winnie-the-Pooh movie last week when he babysat the older two kids. That had been a fun night.

“So you were asking if I always wanted to be a social worker.” Right. He should be talking with Sarah. “Truth is, I didn’t really know what that was when I was a kid. In high school, I wanted to be a psychologist, but the money for a PhD was too much, so I went for the master’s of social work. Did an internship for social services. I loved it. I hated it and I loved it, you know? I mean, no one who works in our department totally loves their job, but—”

She kept talking, and Josh nodded in what he hoped were the right spots.

Lauren thought this would be a good idea, he reminded himself. First dates always sucked.

Well. His and Lauren’s had not. But comparison was the thief of joy, as Teddy Roosevelt had once said (and Lauren had often quoted him). She’d loved that guy. Who didn’t?

“What are you thinking about?” Sarah asked.

“Oh. Uh, Teddy Roosevelt.”

“Am I boring you?”

“No! Sorry. Just . . . never mind.”

Sarah seemed to be done talking about her job. Maybe she’d ask him about something. It was kind of her turn.

“Watched anything good on Netflix lately?” she asked. The waitress brought their salads, smiled and left.

“No. No, I don’t watch much TV.” He used to, when he was married. It had been cozy then, sitting on the couch together, making out, handing Lauren tissues when she cried, because she loved the sad, sappy movies. He opted not to mention his first two months as a widower, when he’d watched thousands of hours of television. Still, he should say something. “The Great British Bake Off and Star Trek reruns, mostly. The original TV show.”

“Are you kidding?” Sarah asked. “Oh, Josh. They’re so hokey! The new movies are so much better. That one with Benedict Cumberbatch? I loved that one.”

The old series was not hokey, but he didn’t want to get into an argument about it.

“How are our salads?” the waitress asked.

“Fine. Great,” Josh said, though he hadn’t had time to pick up his fork.

“Excellent.” She beamed and left.

What had they been talking about? “Have you seen anything good lately?” Josh asked.