“Let me take you to dinner,” said Alex.
“Sure,” I said. “As long as we’re done by eight-thirty. I need to go pick Macy up.”
“No problem,” he said in a soft, reassuring voice.
We got to the restaurant. I recognized it immediately from something I’d seen on TV once. It was one of those super-fancy places with Michelin stars and tiny plates of food. I’d seen them before.
“You ever go to Panera Bread?” I asked Alex, as we were seated at one of the tables, and the menus, heavy and dark with black leather cases, were slipped onto our laps.
Alex laughed. I loved it when he laughed and the sound was warm and rich. We’d been seated in a private room in the restaurant.
“That’s a good one,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve been for about ten years.”
“You know,” I whispered conspiratorially, “the f
