After generously tipping the valet, Chris drives us in his Range Rover to my apartment. It’s not fancy, but I like to think it’s cozy. I ask him, “Would you like to come up for some coffee?” He smiles and says that yes, he would love to. Leading the way to my door, I unlock it and usher him inside, closing it behind us. Throwing my keys on the small table by the door, I invite him to make himself at home and sit on the sofa. Coffee on my mind, among other things, I head to the kitchen to make some for both of us.
“How long have you been living here?” he asks when I return to the living room and hand him his coffee.
“Five years,” I say, sitting down beside him, cradling my own cup and reminiscing. I am lucky that my parents were willing to co-sign on the apartment when I first moved here,
