But not tonight. Tonight, I had David. And I was his center. “I love you.”

His cheeks blushed in the most adorable way. “I love you.”

He held the back of my chair as I settled in my seat and placed a small beaded handbag in my lap. Carefully, I unfolded my napkin as he filled my wineglass with the open bottle on the table. He knew I liked a bottle best when it had time to breathe, time to soften. As I raised the glass, he sat and then clinked his against mine.

I sipped, trying to imagine Marisa staring at the open bottle in my kitchen. Of course, it’d been thoughtless of me to leave it behind. Not the kind of thing one does around an alcoholic. But Marisa had upset me. She’d thrown me off guard when she’d told me Clare had been pregnant. Dad had never told me she was expecting, but for some reason I couldn’t admit that to Marisa. I’d not been thinking when I lied.

“That was a far-off look,” David said.

I set my glass down carefully. “No far-off looks tonight. Just you.”

“You don’t have to do that with me.”

“What?”

“Hide what’s bothering you. I knew you were upset when you entered the room.”

“How could you know?”

“You purse your lips.” He puckered.

I laughed and sipped my wine again. I’d not known David in college, but since the day he’d walked into my life, he’d always been easy to be around. “My expression wasn’t that bad.”

“Maybe not for everyone else, but I’m getting to know you pretty well.”

Yes, he was. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Tell me,” he said.

“The usual. Fight with the sister.”

“Marisa?” He leaned in a fraction, concern deepening his frown lines. “What happened?”

“She won’t let Clare go. She won’t just accept that some problems, no matter how terrible, just don’t have fixes. The best anyone can do is manage their feelings and keep putting one foot in front of the other.”

“That’s worked for you.”

“It can work for anyone.” The wine was delicious, but the bottle Marisa had either drunk or poured down the sink was better.

“But not for Marisa.”

“I don’t want to talk about her,” I said carefully. “I want to talk about you. How did your day go?”

“Sold millions of dollars’ worth of stocks and bonds.” It was his standard line when I asked him about work. He rarely said much about his days, and when I pressed him for stock tips, he laughed and said, “Buy low, sell high.”

“Really, only millions? These days, darling, if it doesn’t start with a B or T, people don’t think much of it.”