Once, I went to the restroom and left my handbag beneath the table.

When I returned, Daniel had shifted his chair slightly to let a server pass.

My bag was where I had left it.

The restaurant thinned around us.

By ten, we were sitting in the hotel’s quiet lounge.

“What is the real reason for the exception tonight?” he asked.

“It is my sixty-second birthday.”

His fingers stopped tapping.