Lena's POV
The dinner was at a steakhouse in the West Village that I'd chosen deliberately — neutral ground, good wine list, the kind of place where nobody would feel like they were on anyone's territory.
Ethan arrived first. He was standing at the bar when I walked in, already in conversation with the bartender, because Ethan had never once in his life stood quietly in a room when there was a person available to talk to.
He hugged me and looked past my shoulder.
"He's not here yet."
"He's not late yet either." I sat on the stool beside him. "Stop watching the door."
"I'm not nervous."
"You're watching the door."
He ordered me a drink without asking because he knew what I drank and handed it over. "This is strange."
"I know."
"Is it strange for you?"
"A little." I turned the gla
