When I arrived at Ian’s apartment on Saturday evening, the beef Bourguignon was on the stove and the salad was in the fridge. The candles were lit. “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen was playing. Ian’s faded jeans and long-sleeve T-shirt were a departure from his usual wardrobe. His hair had grown out a little longer. Overall, the more relaxed appearance suited him.

“Your mom sent me another present,” I said. “A silk scarf.” It was the third present Paula had sent me since we’d met. This time, the card read: To my future daughter-in-law (shhh!) with a smiley face drawn on the side. I didn’t mention the card to Ian.

“You’re kidding,” he said. “She’s the cheapest person I know.”

“She has good taste.” I smiled.

Laughter and chatter made its way from the street to Ian’s second-floor window, which was barely open.

Halfway through dinner, he refilled my glass of cabernet. I was pleased to see he was pouring a fifty-dollar bottle.

“Tell me more about Jasper,” he said.

My throat tightened. I wondered why he was asking.

“He’s so smart,” I said. “And adorable.”

Ian served me more beef Bourguignon. “You said he’d be away for a few months?”

“He’ll definitely return by September. He’ll start kindergarten here.” I wiped my mouth with a dark green linen napkin. Such details are unusual for a straight bachelor.

“I don’t want to pry, but…”

“I don’t have secrets.” I smiled again.

“What happened to your marriage?”

“Robert had an affair.” I sipped the cabernet. “He fell in love with another woman.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK now. We’re friends. Sort of.”

“Does Robert have a place in LA?” The voices outside were louder. Ian walked to the window and lowered it, then returned to the table.

“In Santa Monica, close to his office.”

“Who stays with Jasper when he’s working?”

I could still hear a man laughing outside. “He’s in daycare.”

“What about the woman?”

The wine had dulled my brain. “Which woman?”

“The other woman.”

“Oh.” I looked down at my hands in my lap while I collected my thoughts. I wasn’t usually sloppy with my details.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“She lives in New York.”

He looked confused. “He’s single now?”

“Yes.”

“What’s Robert’s last name?”

Fuck you. “Why do you ask?” I said politely.

“You mentioned that he works in film. I have some friends in entertainment.”

I paused. “I’d rather not talk about Robert anymore. It’s a painful subject.”

Ian looked at the ground, his index finger to his mouth, like he was trying to remember something. “Where does your sister live?” he asked.

He was sharper than I’d realized. “We’re not in touch.”

“Is she married?”

“I know she was with a guy.”

He thought I was lying to him.

“I don’t think you trust me.” He frowned.