Page 24 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

He leaned in on his elbows and caught the water glass with one of them, saved it before it went over, set it back from the edge with exaggerated care. "Sorry. I do that. I need a wider table than the rest of the population."

Janice spoke in a stage whisper. “Never let him sing to you, unless you’re ready to lose your mind. It’s incredibly seductive.”

Our food came. I had a salad that I mostly moved around my plate. Ricardo ate a sandwich with his whole attention and talked between bites, hands going when a topic lit him up, now and then losing the end of a sentence because a better one had shown up in the middle of it. We got onto music. He played flamenco, loved the old jazz records, and found most of what was on the radio physically painful. I told him I'd played piano as a child and stopped when medical school ate all my free time, and hadn't touched one since.

"What did you love most?"

"Debussy. Clair de Lune."

"You should play again. Even badly. Especially badly, it's good for the soul."

"Maybe. When there's time."

"Make the time." Then he spread his hands. "Says the man who hasn't called his mother back in two weeks. Don't take life advice from someone who can't remember to charge his phone."

He was looking at my mouth when he said it and made no effort to pretend he wasn't. I looked back, and didn't pretend either.

"See?" Janice said, choosing her moment. "Told you he was good for you."

I shot her a look. She grinned, unrepentant.

By the time our plates were cleared, I realized I hadn't looked at my watch in over an hour.

Janice paid, her hand claiming the bill before either of us could move. Ricardo had a rehearsal to get to. He offered his hand again on the sidewalk and held it a second, his thumb pressing once against the back of mine before he let go. "I hope I'll see you again, Lacey."

"Maybe," I said, because I couldn't commit to yes yet.

He smiled like he knew the gap between maybe and yes was narrower than I was making it sound, and then he was off down the sidewalk, long strides, guitar case over one shoulder.

Janice waited until he'd rounded the corner, then turned to me with her arms crossed and her whole face pleased with itself. "So?"

"He's so young," I said. "I feel as if I should be asking about his homework."

"He's twenty-four, he has a degree, and he's lived in three countries. If anyone's the beginner here, it's you, and we both know it." She wasn't wrong.

"He kept looking at other women," I said.

Her expression flickered. "I know. I'm sorry about that. He's, well. Young."

"I thought it was funny."

She looked at me. "You're not bothered."

"His eyes wandered and then they found their way back, every time, and when they were on me, they really saw me." I worked out how to say the rest. "It was honest. I think I liked it better than a man performing a focus he didn't feel."

That stopped her. "You know what you did in there?" she asked. "About forty minutes in, you stopped watching the room. You quit checking the exits. You sat there and talked to a beautiful man and forgot to be afraid, and I have known you for years and I'm not sure I have seen you do that once. That's the whole reason I'm about to say what I'm about to say."

She steered me to a bench and sat, pulling me down with her. The light was still warm, the street easy around us.

"The Second Circle," she said. "I want to take you. This week."

I'd known somewhere this was coming.

"Janice."

"Before you say no. Listen. You went to the singles bar. You went to this lunch. Those are real steps and I'm proud of you for them. But they're steps into the same world you already know that doesn't work for you." She paused. "The Second Circle isn't that. The rules are explicit. Everything is chosen. Nothing happens that you didn't choose, and they take that seriously."

I looked at my hands. "I'm not ready for any of it."