Eric spooned up a mouthful of whipped cream from the top of the hot chocolate. It had just a touch of sugar, not the heavy sweetness he usually encountered.
He tried to recollect his thoughts, where they’d left the conversation. It wasn’t coming clearly to mind. What did come to mind—with the impact of a punch in the nose, an experience he’d managed never to repeat since junior high—was the woman across the deli table from him. A small enough table that he was terribly conscious of it each time they bumped knees. It wasn’t crowded, but it was certainly cozier than he’d ever been with Valerie.
When he looked at her, his brain tied off in little knots. Her dark hair shimmered with the water that had soaked it. Shimmered as if it were caught by the afternoon sun, not the incandescent lights
