He stared at me with appetite. “Shall we try once more?”

“Are you sure you want to attempt this?” I asked him.

“If we don’t, I shall truly be foul.”

“I don’t think I want to see that.”

“It would not be good.”

An hour later, he had done a one-eighty: a completely different man—relaxed and smiling and joking. After we showered, he insisted on preparing us breakfast. He turned on his stereo, zydeco music pumping out of the speakers. Nifty accordion playing. I heard him singing along with the vocals.

By the time I had dressed and walked into his kitchen, he was almost done cooking.

“Coffee’s ready.”

“You work fast.”

He kissed me as he poured eggs into a pan sizzling with chopped peppers, tomatoes, and onions. “I set up outside on the patio. It is a beautiful day.”

“That looks good.”

“Shakshuka.”

“Ethiopian?”

“Israeli. Moroccan, I think. You are depleted. You need protein. We both do.”

“I thought it was good to eat carbs when you’re depleted.”

“No, carbs are for immediate rise in blood sugar. Protein is digested slowly. It does not give you the rush, but you don’t crash, either. Take the paper and go outside.”

Five minutes later, he brought out food, drink, and my cell phone. He kissed my lips, then sat down. “Ah … this is nice.” He leaned back in the chair, hands behind his neck. “It is good to breathe.”

I poured a refill of coffee. “Very nice.” I started in on my plate of eggs. “Delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t the first thing he had made for me. He was a good cook—simple dishes but with lots of spice. He favored red chili flakes. My mouth was burning after a few forkfuls. I washed it down with juice, then sipped coffee. I regarded his face. “Sex is really important to you.”

He eyed me behind a coffee cup. “Yes … I hope it’s important to you, too.”

“Of course. It just doesn’t seem to … alter my disposition as much.”

“I am very moody. I told you that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“We are reversed, Cynthia. I work with women; you work with men. It is early in the relationship, so I am not so secure. And with recent circumstances, we’ve been dealing with a lot.”

“I’ve dragged you into a lot of muck. Sorry.”

“If you come with muck, I will take the muck.” He took my hand and kissed it. “When it’s my turn to drag you into muck, then you will remember this.”

“Fair enough.” I bit into a piece of rye toast and stared at the rosebushes. “Well, since sex seems to be a very big factor here, for both of us, I guess I could go on the pill. Make it a little more spontaneous.”

His smile was wide. “That would be very nice.”

“You don’t like condoms.”

“No man does. But it’s your body.” He slathered butter onto the bread. “I do what you want.”