The restaurant Chase chose was expensive enough to scream desperation. The kind of place you reserved only when you wanted to impress someone you had already lost. Soft jazz poured from unseen speakers.

The air smelled faintly of roasted garlic and red wine. Our table, tucked in a private room had an ivory linen spread on it and glowed under a small golden lamp.

He had gone all out, gray suit, silver tie, and that clean-shaven look that used to melt me years ago. I couldn’t help but think: ...