Ernesto watched Jose's retreating back, wishing he could take back the easy "That'll be great" that had left his lips just moments ago.

Jose.

The name was half-remembered. He’d known, of course, that this was Julie’s husband. The moment the "wrong address" excuse had tumbled out of his mouth, he’d felt like an idiot.

Now, though, the invitation had a peculiar twist he hadn't anticipated. Dinner. With Jose. And, presumably, with Julie. A wave of something he couldn't quite ...