Bram had been cranky since pickup.
Not visibly cranky — he was too controlled for visible cranky, which was something she was going to have to address with him at some point because it was her trait and she recognized it and it was not entirely healthy. He was managing his tiredness in the way he always managed the things he didn't want to admit: by being extremely competent about everything else. He had carried his own bag. He had hung up his own jacket. He had set the table when she asked and had done it correctly and without commentary.
But he was pushing his pasta around.
"Eat," she said.
"I am eating."
"You're moving it."
"That's part of eating."
She looked at him across the table. He looked back with the expression he used when he thought she was being unreasonable but had dec
