Mr. Nice Spy Read Free

a cab driver, but even I’m not that paranoid. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”
    She gives me that sad little it’s-cute-when-you’re-trying one-corner smile again.
    “At least let me carry your bag.”
    Shanna doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t say no, either. She’s quiet to the elevator landing. The awkward clock starts up again. The longer I let it go, the harder it is to break the silence.
    “How long is the flight to Toronto?” Like I don’t already know.
    “An hour. Hour layover. Hour to Chicago.”
    “Getting in a little late.”
    “I’ll take a cab to Mom’s, too.” Shanna shrugs, her eyes still straight ahead. She doesn’t look like she’s waiting for an elevator. More like an execution.
    But the conversation’s the only one getting the ax. We reach the lobby and head to the yellow taxi waiting outside. I load her suitcase.
    She’s still standing on the sidewalk, like she’s waiting for me. I guess I expected her to get in and drive off without a goodbye.
    Two years ago, we were going through this same ritual, driving her to the airport to visit her mom. I can never forget the way she looked at me, the way the sun caught her hair. She was all light and happiness, and the thought of letting her go drove me just about crazy. Or all the way crazy — before she could get out of the car, I’d asked her to marry me. And she’d said yes. And laughed. And cried.
    And stayed.
    All the same pieces are here: the suitcase, me, her. Especially the tears. I have to pretend I can’t see them shining in her eyes.
    “Elliott.” Normally I love when she says my name, but this has a reluctant note of you won’t like what I’m about to say . “I love you, but — it’s starting to feel like this is as far as you’re willing to go. I’ve tried to be patient, and I don’t want to push you, but . . . I’m ready for the next stage.”
    “The next stage? The next stage of what?”
    A sigh escapes her, a mix of exasperated and exhausted. “How about actually getting married? Buying a home? Starting a family?”
    The words sock me in the stomach like a fist of ice. I know she wants all those things, and I guess I do, too, but I can’t help the terror resurging in my brain. I thought we had time — I thought I had time.
    I’m not stupid. I know that when you ask someone to marry you, they kind of expect to get married . But in the minute I asked, all I wanted was for her to not leave.
    I’m all out of relationship-saving tricks, and this time I don’t think even they could fix things.
    A dull light gleams in Shanna’s eyes beyond the tears. She’s hoping for an answer, for something I don’t know how to give her.
    “Like I said,” she continues when I don’t, “I don’t want to pressure you. I think maybe we both need a little time. A break.” She’s looking at me, still hoping I have the solution to save us from this madness.
    I don’t.
    So Shanna finishes, still focused on the waiting car. “I need you to step up. If you can’t . . . I’ll make it easy. If you’re not at the airport when I get back, that’s all the discussion we need. I’ll understand.”
    She might as well clean out my chest cavity with a spoon.
    Like an idiot, I nod. That’s all I can do. Shanna looks to me one last time, like suddenly now I’ll figure out how to fix this. Then she folds her long legs into the cab, and it pulls away from me. I’m supposed to wave until she’s out of sight, an old family tradition of hers, but it’s all I can do to stand on the sidewalk and watch her disappear.
    I don’t know how things broke this badly.
     

     
    The next day, I am really off my game. My morning didn’t go well. At the gym, I was barely able to get two words with the visiting Lebanese scientist I’m trying to recruit, though he doesn’t know that part yet. Then I spent way too much time trying to figure out why the recording didn’t go through to Angela last night. And now I’m