I wanted it so badly that I think it dulled the instincts I had spent a decade sharpening.

Gavin was polished and attentive and generous, almost extravagantly so.

He owned what looked, from the outside, like a thriving industrial equipment supply company.

He drove a brand-new luxury SUV, black and gleaming.

He always seemed to know the exact right thing to say, to my mother, to me, to a waiter, to a room, as though he had studied for a test on each person the moment before he met them.

“I love taking your mother out,” he told me warmly the first time we met, his hand resting over hers on the table.