“This is going to be a little bit of a different approach,” she says, sitting me down in the chair. She kneels on the floor in front of me, then spins slightly to grab a glass of wine off the table and turn back toward me.

I smile, then frown exaggeratedly when I realize the wine is for her, not me. “Silly. This is for me. I’m going to enjoy this.” She sips the wine again, then looks at me. Without breaking the look, she tells me what’s up, finally.