“I don’t mind standing in crowded rooms,” Edward said.

He set his stack of yellow paper on top of the filing cabinet and looked straight at my face.

“You’re ridiculously presentable, Ronnie,” Edward said.

He said it plainly, in exactly the same tone he used when he read the weekly freight variance reports to the warehouse manager.

I pulled hard on the hem of my shirt, my eyes dropping to the worn linoleum between his black leather shoes.

Nobody had called me presentable in four years, not since Max stopped looking at me before we walked out the front door together.