He stepped into the kitchen doorway, tightening his belt with a vigor I hadn’t seen in months. “Is that coffee for me?” he asked, his voice a little too bright.
I handed him the mug, my smile practiced, calm, a mask I barely recognized. “A little surprise,” I said, watching his hands wrap around the warm ceramic.
He lifted it to his lips. One sip. Two sips. Three. He drank it all, the mug empty in a single breath. The speed shocked me; years ago, when he still looked at me with something more than routine, he would have savored it, letting the bitterness linger.
His eyes flicked up, meeting mine. “And where are you going dressed up like that?” I asked, leaning against the doorway, my voice light.
He grabbed his keys, his fingers trembling just a fraction. “To a meeting,” he replied, “an important one. Strategy… projects… partnerships… you know how it goes.”
