As we leave the school parking lot the following Thursday, I text Roman to let him know that I need to stop at the market and pick up a few ingredients for dinner.

I usually don’t cook during the week, but there’s something enjoyable about preparing a meal that will be eaten with another person instead of scarfing down a bowl of cereal at the kitchen counter or in front of the TV.

Roman silently walks beside me in the store as I pick up chicken breasts, a wedge of fresh ...