They stopped in the kitchen for a bottle of wine. One could hardly pop by in the evening without one, Matthew had explained. He’d chosen a locally bottled pinot grigio that he found quite decent even though his preference was for California brands. Gavin, however, had clucked his tongue in disapproval immediately.
“Perhaps a red?” Gavin suggested. “It just seems classier, you know? Rich, deep, fragrant, and flavorful. It even looks better in the glass. The color, the way it clings to the sides and runs…” He paused, swallowed. He seemed to think. “Actually, before we leave, I think I should feed.”
“Yes,” Matthew said dryly. “I think that would be a good idea.”
That was a process Matthew didn’t watch. There was no way to fool oneself that the liquid in the glass was anything but what it w
