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He settled the pizza on a wooden plate on the table and nodded for me to sit down. I did, frowning to shield my eyes from the glare. Everything felt so utterly surreal, I couldn’t help even begin to question what the hell I was doing there. I’d never been in such a luxurious place, and I didn’t know what to do or say. He grabbed a couple of dishes and glasses from a shelf against the wall by the sliding door, opened two beers and put the rest of the six-pack in a minibar by the shelf. He was dressed pretty much like the night we’d had dinner there a week before, with his loose tee and his worn sneakers. The only difference was that he was wearing swimming trunks instead of short sweatpants. And he behaved in such an ordinary, simple way, it helped me to overcome my inhibitions.

He was right, and the pizza was a finger-licking piece of culinary art. I tried a bite and realized I was starving, so I put to wolf down slice after slice, only pausing to sip my beer now and then. We didn’t t