Katrina and Sara had not asked why Moona and Jessica did not join us for dinner. I’m guessing they pictured them off somewhere, wrapped in each other’s arms. I held out hope that they were, still drifting and enjoying the closeness that comes from sharing such an intimate experience.
My two dinnertime companions had finished up, and to my pleasant surprise, even volunteered for kitchen clean-up duty. And though it consisted mostly of wrapping up the leftovers and tossing plates in the dishwasher, I was still struck by their kind offer.
I was sitting alone at the dining room table with two untouched place settings, thinking about how well things seemed to be progressing, when I heard the first creak of the stairs.
Moona was still in her bathrobe, but she had showered, and her dark, wet h
