The lunch went the way it needed to go.
A restaurant in the city that Damien had chosen carefully. The kind of place where the tables were spaced far enough apart for privacy but visible enough that being seen there meant something. We arrived together. We sat close. We talked the way two people talk when they are comfortable with each other, not performing exactly, but aware that the performance was part of the point today.
I wore a deep green dress from the wardrobe I had not chosen. It fit the way everything he chose fit. Exactly and without apology.
Three photographs appeared online before we had finished eating.
Damien saw them first. He turned his phone briefly so I could see the screen. The two of us at the table, leaning slightly toward each other, his hand near mine on the whi
