We stayed in that restaurant until Antonio began the quiet, diplomatic process of closing — the gentle dimming of certain lights, the soft disappearance of the remaining staff, the way he moved through the room with the discretion of a man who had seen many evenings reach their natural conclusion and understood that his job at this stage was simply to not interrupt them.
Ryan's hand was still over mine on the table.
It had stayed there through the last of the wine and a conversation that had moved through several territories — his early years building the firm, my decision to pursue law when everyone around me had expected something easier, the particular loneliness of being the most capable person in a room that had already decided what you were — and neither of us had moved it, and nei
