I stepped inside and was hit with the mouth-watering aromas of sizzling garlic and wine.

Ro stood at the stove, his jaw all stubbled and his damp hair tousled, dropping fat white prawns into a pan while Ella Fitzgerald sang about being bewitched, bothered, and bewildered on the stereo. A cut-up crusty baguette was arrayed on a wooden cutting board on the table next to a big colorful salad. "Wine's chilling in the fridge."

My breath caught at the cozy picture of ...