Nervous.“I remember,” I said, because I did. “That was a while ago.”“Three years.” Chris said.“That long?” I thought it’d been longe....“She ever … mention it?”“No. Why?” I looked at him.His face was flushed. He shrugged. “Just wondering.”I sipped my beer. He sipped his. Another few moments passed.Chris said, “Do you think … would she … would you … do you all want to … I don’t know … try again?”I looked at him. I didn’t say anything. He was looking at my wife, glancing from her to me kinda. " Oh?" No. But I do have a spreadsheet to show you."Ryan leaned back and watched her parade to his desk, pleats of the skirt into which she had changed swishing and barely covering her. Sophie-Mae leaned forward and dragged the spare chair slowly to the bookcase a few feet to Ryan's right. He tracked her movements and watched her step onto the chair, one heel at a time, skirt agonisingly keeping him from seeing beneath. Scanning the top shelf, she mused. "Hmm, it's here somewhere, I'm sure of. More

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