Travis was standing at the kitchen island with a glass coffee pot.

He had on a crisp blue button-down shirt tucked into dark jeans.

He poured a steaming mug and carried it straight over to Michael.

“Black, one sugar, right?” Travis asked.

Michael looked down at the dark coffee.

He didn’t reach for the ceramic mug right away.

He tugged at his leather watch strap with his left hand.

“Take it, Michael,” Lena said.