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“Ross.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t.”

His eyes return to mine.

“Don’t what?”

I hate him for making me say it.

“Don’t turn this into something it isn’t.”

His expression changes.

“What do you think this is?”

“Dinner,” I say.

“It stopped being just dinner a while ago,” he replies.

“That does not mean anything else is happening.”

Ross steps closer, slowly enough that I could move away if I wanted to.

I do not.

He stops within reach.

“You’re right,” he says. “It doesn’t.”

The restraint in his voice is worse than pressure would have been.

I grip the edge of the folio.

“You said a lot tonight.”

“I meant all of it.”

“That doesn’t erase anything.”

“I know.”

“It doesn’t make us what we were.”

“I know that too.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

His gaze holds mine.

“I don’t know how.”

My breath catches.

I resent that it does.

Ross takes another small step forward.