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problem is being addressed. I am perfectly capable of taking care of this on my own. Now, why don’t you get the plates?
    Dinner will be done in five minutes.” He stared at her back for five full seconds. She felt the heat of his eyes. She didn’t know if he was angry at being pushed away, upset that she didn’t need a man to save her, or watching her ass as she bent to rummage for the strainer.
    “Is this your way of changing the subject? I should warn you I was raised in a conversationally disorganized household. I know how to drop a topic and pick it up later.” She carried the pot of boiling noodles to the sink and poured it into the strainer. Daniel opened random cupboards until she pointed 60
    Michele Zurlo
    out the right one. He loaded two plates with noodles and handed them to Alaina so she could ladle on the sauce.
    “And I know how to keep your mind away from topics that are none of your concern,” she said. “There’s parm in the refrigerator.” Daniel paused, his hand on refrigerator handle as he studied some artwork hanging via magnet in a place of honor. “Are these from kids of your patients?”
    Alaina filled two glasses of water from the tap and took them to the kitchen table. She did have art from the children of some of her patients. Kids were grateful to anyone who helped their parents stay sober. “My little brother drew them. He’s eight.” The pictures were the kind a son drew for his mother. There were reproductions of them holding hands and eating ice cream. Zach had taken to labeling her Alaina/Mom with big, bold crayon letters. Did she imagine Daniel freezing for a few seconds before he grabbed the grated parmesan from inside and settled at her table?
    She wasn’t sure she’d ever mentioned Zach to Daniel. Almost none of their conversations had been personal. On their date, Dan had begun with complimenting her appearance before migrating to weather and sports-related topics. He’d mentioned some of his friends, but Alaina hadn’t contributed much. She spent most of the time wondering what she was doing on a date with someone so handsome and so much younger. After he ordered her dinner without even asking what she wanted, she gave him an earful, but her tirade had been predicated on moral grounds.
    “My dad always wanted a son,” she added. “He was stuck with just me for a long time, but my mom finally came through. Of course, now he’s too old to deal with a little kid. Zach spends much of his time with me.”
    Daniel lifted his head in acknowledgement as he twirled noodles around his fork.
    Her dining room was empty, and she didn’t feel the need to fill it with a formal table just yet. The blocky Shaker table that was painted Time to Pretend
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    in white had been a gift from her mentor, an elderly psychologist who had been selling off her things as she downsized for retirement. Dr.
    Gambino’s unflagging support had been the only reason Alaina made it through the PhD program at the University of Michigan. The table worked well enough for her and Zach in the kitchen.
    Her parents had certainly not encouraged her to pursue higher education. Her father was of the opinion that education ruined a woman. He was fond of saying if he wanted her opinion, he’d give it to her. Her mother, who had wed Alaina’s father as soon as it was legal, adopted whatever opinion her father held. She avoided contact with them as much as possible, but Zach’s birth had changed all of that. Alaina had never planned to have children of her own. It had taken that little guy all of ten seconds to wrap her around his tiny, clenched fingers.
    Drawing his fingertip over a curl, Daniel noted the peeling paint on the leg of the table, but he wisely didn’t offer to refinish it. She might have kicked him out if he tried. He returned to swirling noodles and sauce around his fork. “So, how are you planning to divert my attention?”
    Alaina finished chewing before addressing that opening. “You said