And over dinner, with a composure I still find difficult to describe, he brought Jennifer up himself.

“I might have to stay late with Jennifer tomorrow,” he said, easily, between bites.

“We have to finish the pitch deck.” I asked, calmly, “With Jennifer?” And he actually smirked at me.

“Yeah.

Why?

Getting jealous?” And he laughed — a light, careless, entirely relaxed laugh — and I understood, watching him, that a nervous man who slips up is far less frightening than a comfortable man who does not.

His ease was the scariest thing I had ever seen in him.