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I just ordered a drink to start with and the waiter left us alone again.

Blake pulled down my menu to look me in the eyes. “Nothing,” he said, “including whether your boyfriend’s Deep American roots show from time to time. You can sit there and look ashamed, or you can remember you don’t have absolute power over me, so anything I do is not yours to be ashamed of.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, “because you don’t think you’re in the wrong yet. But don’t worry about it. I don’t have power over you either, of course.”

This was not the way I’d imagined our first date would go.