Jenny and I saw each other every night that week. I took her to the cinema to see a revival of Brief Encounter, and she sobbed quietly on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I should have chosen something else.” Something not about a futile love affair.
“No, it’s lovely.” She smiled when I handed her a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you.”
For our third “date,” we went dancing, and I would have sworn one of the men lingering on the sidelines was Rogers, but when I looked again, he was gone. The men who remained watched me with envy as Jenny and I twirled about the dance floor.
“Would you care to dance with someone else? I’ve no objection.” I knew I was just a stand-in, and if someone caught her eye, I’d bow out gracefully.
She frowned at me. “Well, I do. I arrived with
