“Hey, Rob.” Ben held up an empty measuring cup, smiling. Beautiful smile. “You have any sugar?”

“Sure, come in.” I moved aside and Ben entered. “What are you doing home in the middle of the day?”

“I’m working midnight shift this week. I just got home; I was going to make pancakes before getting some rest. But…no sugar.” He smiled.

“Well, come on. I’ll hook you up.” I led him to the kitchen.

The kitchen is large--and underused. We never cook anything in there, ordering takeout is so much easier. Pink marble lined the countertops around us. Sparkling clean, oak cabinets covered most of the wall space. The kitchen--the entire house, really--was designed by Helen.

I opened several cabinets, before realizing that the sugar was kept in a jar on the counter. “Here it is.” I snatched the sugar jar from its resting place on the counter, among the flour, cornmeal, and coffee containers. “How much you need?”

“As much as you want to give me, Rob,” Ben said.

I glanced over my shoulder. Ben was right behind me, almost on top of me. “What are you talking about?"

“Rob, do you remember the picnic?”

“Yes,” I said, turning around so that we were now face to face--literally, he was only a few inches away.

“I saw you looking at me. I know what you were thinking.”

“Ben, I’m married.”

“I know.” Ben moved closer, his lips brushing my neck. “But does that really matter?”