<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Oliver’s answer that it was 8:30 brought a startled expression to her face and Genevieve watched as the ghost of smile that had come from embracing Dunkin faded and he closed the distance between them. She hadn’t been expecting it, but his arm coming to rest tight against her back to draw her in and close felt good. And she welcomed the offer for comfort, her forehead briefly pressing against the ball of his shoulder, the contact with someone who loved Nathan as much as she did powerful. It didn’t last long, and she didn’t reach out to make any further contact than her brow against his shoulder. When he stepped back from her, all Gen had to do was lift her head to break away.<br/>
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“Yeah…” was her uncertain reply to Oliver stating everything would be all right. She looked up at him while he studied her face, wondering what he was looking for and if he received the answers he sought, then let her dark eyes linger on him when he moved further into the townhouse and toward the kitchen. He knew the space just as well as she, after all. He’d helped them move in, had crashed on their couch more than a couple times after one too many. Dunkin trailed after him, motivated more by his presence than the Chinese Oliver had placed in her hands. If she’d been in better spirits, Genevieve would have chuckled at the adoring way the canine watched the man. Dogs were such loving souls.<br/>
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“I can’t eat all of this,” Gen protested as she followed Oliver into the J-shaped kitchen. It was homey, neat, and had a dining table to the left and stools up against the built-in bar in the kitchen. A den sat adjacent to the kitchen, where Nathan’s massive TV and video games were set up before a black leather sectional. It’d always been a nice space, open and airy, one where his buddies could come in and hang out or her own friends could socialize. Rounding the counter to step into the kitchen, Gen dropped the bag down on the bar and withdrew two beers from the refrigerator, “You’re just going to have to help me, Oliver.” While it was partially said because she hated eating alone, she’d also noticed how forlorn he was. Gen had a suspicion Oliver was, like her, having trouble remembering eat regularly or having little appetite when he did. With the circles under his hazel eyes, she had was certain he was getting no more sleep than she. She just had the power of makeup on her side. Her heart went out to him and she wryly thought they were a pretty pitiful pair.<br/>
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She brought the beers over, pulled out a stool, then gave the other one a quick pat for him to join her. “Come on,” it was said briskly, a show that Gen wasn’t taking no for an answer, while she started to open up the bag and set out everything he’d brought, “I’ll tell you everything while we eat. But first, how is everything at work? How is everyone?” After the shock of everything in her own life, Gen had started thinking of the other people affected by Nathan's loss. Police officers always formed strong bonds together and she'd seen firsthand how much love was between Nathan and his coworkers.</span>