Andrea stands in the doorway staring at all the food in disbelief. Lance turns to look at her and smiles. The curtains are open in the dining room and the midday sunlight streams in and catches in his hair. She blinks and shakes her head and he walks back to the doorway, taking her hands in his.
“I don’t understand, Lance,” she says, pulling her hands away. “What’s this about?”
“We haven’t had a meal together in a long time,” he says. “And you’re the mother of my child. I thought it would be nice if we dined together.”
“If I eat with you, will you delete the recording?” she asks.
“Yes,” he says. “I’ll delete it after lunch.”
He reaches down and tries to pull the floppy hat off her head. She slaps his hand away and holds it down over her hair. His forehead wrinkles and his eyes narrow
