“I’m sorry. It’s just been … a tough day today, for some unexpected reasons. I didn’t want to burden you with all of that.”

She slid her hand in his.

“I have an idea. How about you go back to the car and get all of that picnic stuff, and bring it right in here, and I can open up that bottle of wine without having to pay for it, and we can sit here and have our picnic and relax.” Her eyes twinkled at him. “Plus, your hair still has that Ken doll look; you might get recognized at the Getty.”

He brushed his hand over his stiff hair, and shook his head.

“I can’t believe I forgot about that. You sure that’s okay?” he asked.

She stood up.

“I’ll open the wine right now.”

He went out to the car for the picnic supplies, and by the time he got back inside, she’d moved the coffee table to the far side of the living room and had spread a big blanket out on the floor, with the bottle of wine and two glasses in the middle of it.

“See what a good picnic we can have indoors?” she said when he came inside.

He dropped the bag down onto the blanket and unloaded it.

“And we don’t have to worry about the wind coming up and blowing the blanket away, or ants,” she said. She uncorked the wine bottle and poured wine for both of them.

“And we can use actual wineglasses instead of plastic,” he said. He touched his glass to hers.

She set to unwrapping all the food he’d brought.

“Ooh, you got some good stuff. I’m going to pretend I don’t see that pie until later, but I’m very excited about it. And this cheese looks oozy and perfect. I’m starving.”

He tore off an end of the baguette and handed it to her.

“Me, too.”

He hadn’t realized that until now.

She looked at him, and her expression softened.

“When did you eat last?” she asked. “Do they feed you at those things?”

When had he eaten last? That half a bagel he’d downed for breakfast while he read a stack of memos and briefing papers.