Vivienne's POV
It was an ordinary Thursday.
That was the thing I kept coming back to afterward. Not a special occasion. Not a date I had been anticipating or a dinner I had dressed for or an evening that had been arranged with any visible intention beyond the intention of two people spending Thursday together the way they had been spending Thursdays together for months.
He arrived at six forty five with a bag from the market.
I was already in the kitchen when he came in. I had started something simple on the stove, not because I was trying to cook before he arrived and took over, but because I had been home since five and my hands had needed something to do and the kitchen was where I went when my hands needed something.
He came in and looked at what I had started and assessed it the
