I thanked her and retreated to my car, and I told myself it could be a business lunch, a strategy session, anything.

Then I drove past an upscale bistro two blocks over, and saw them together on the outdoor terrace.

Christopher was leaning across the wrought-iron table, entirely captivated, and Melanie — young, in an elegant white dress that whispered careless wealth — threw her head back laughing at something he said.

And then he reached across the table and gently tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear.

It was a small gesture.