"It's your Scotch, Larry. Why don't you sit down, relax."

"What time is it? You know when I get home this late I don't like to drink before dinner. I'd like some food in my belly."

"I know, but I thought…"

"Okay, you thought. You're trying. I appreciate it. But I'm starving. Let's just go and eat, all right?"

She stepped back, not too far, not as though she were retreating. "Dinner'll just be a few minutes, honey."

He stopped. "What do you mean, a few minutes? I walk in the door and there's no dinner? I work all day and I come home to no dinner?"

"Larry, there was dinner an hour ago. I didn't know you were going to be so late-"

"Oh, so it's late now. And somehow I've ruined dinner. Somehow it's my fault."

"No, Larry, it's not that. It just needs to be warmed up, it's all ready. Why don't you just have your drink? I'll call you in a couple of minutes."

She could use the old rice. Luckily she hadn't thrown it out. Maybe he wouldn't notice. And if she put the asparagus right in and micro'd the meat a little higher it should all be ready in five minutes, maybe less.

She saw his jaw tighten, his fists clenching shut. Opening, closing, opening, closing. She flinched backward, then, realizing it, gave him a quick smile. "Really," she said, "five minutes. It'll be no time. Promise. Enjoy your drink."

He looked down at the glass. "Don't tell me what to do, Jenn, all right? I've got patients all day giving me their opinions about things they know absolutely nothing about. All right?"

"Okay, Larry, Okay. I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "And please stop saying you're sorry for everything."

"Okay." She started to repeat that she was sorry and stopped herself just in time.

He was sipping his drink. His fists had stopped clenching. It looked like it was going to work.