bedroom?”
“No idea. I didn’t answer the phone.”
“Why not?”
“I was busy.” He took the chair across from her, leaned back, and perched one ankle on the opposite knee. He gripped it tightly instead of gritting his teeth at her latest attempt to divert the conversation, escape the inevitable.
Any other day she’d have asked, busy with what? But not today. Today, Dinah’s antennae were up. She sensed trouble, and he was about to give her some.
“I expected you hours ago,” he said. “I wanted to—”
“Freshen this, will you?” She held out her glass, still half full.
He rose, crossed over to her, and took the glass— for the fucking last time— and filled it. Poured a scotch neat for himself.
“Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“We’re not going to dinner tonight. Tonight I’m getting on a plane. Which you well know. I waited for you to say good-bye.”
“Gus, let’s not—“
He stood over her, probably looking as irritated and impatient as he felt, and handed her the drink. “I’ve tried to talk to you about this for days. Hell, months. None of it should be a surprise. Did you think your not showing up would change things?”
Ignoring his question, she set the G&T on the coffee table, picked up the black and gold bag, put her hand in, and pulled out a velvet box. “I bought you something.”
“Jesus, you haven’t heard a word I said.” He let out all the damn breath in his lungs, slashed a hand through his hair.
“It’s a Piaget. An Emperador something-or-other. Quite special, or so I’m told.” She held it out to him. Ninety grand’s worth of gold and diamond timekeeping.
He looked at the watch, then into her eyes, big, blue, and showing the barest trace of vulnerability and desperation. Hell! “I’m going, Dinah,” he said as patiently, as softly as he could. Soft generally not being his thing. “Nothing you say, or buy, will change that.” He took the watch from her hand, set it on the table, and raised her fingertips to his mouth. “I don’t want another watch, another car, or another Armani. What I want is for us to be straight with each other, and if possible, part as friends.” He paused. “I owe you, but I can’t give you what you want anymore. I don’t—”
She pulled her hand from his, holding it palm out to stop him from saying more. Closing her eyes, she took a breath, and opened them. “You don’t love me,” she finished, her voice low and cool, “the way I love you.”
Gus let her comment fall into the room’s bright white void. If there was one thing he knew about women—and he’d learned a hell of a lot through the years—anytime the L word came into play, it was time to shift into reverse. Lately, with Dinah, the word had come up on a regular basis. “It’s time for me to move on.” Years past time.
She got up and walked to the window, keeping her back to him. “You’re going to Josh. In Seattle.”
“Yes.” Only a piece of the truth. But enough.
She nodded, and he saw her straighten her shoulders before turning back to face him, pride and self-assurance intact. “I guess I shouldn’t complain. We’ve had a good run.”
“Better than most. You were there for me—and Josh—when no one else was. I won’t forget that.” And he wouldn’t. Ever. This woman had saved his life—such as it was—and given him more than he damn well deserved, but he didn’t owe her his future. The way he saw it, as complicated as their relationship was, they were even. “I’ll always be grateful, Dinah.”
“Thank you for that.” She walked to the coffee table and picked up her drink. “Give Josh a kiss for me, will you?” She gestured idly toward the abandoned watch, now gleaming hotly under the slanting rays of the afternoon sun. “Maybe he’d like it?”
Gus shook his head. “He’s got a phone.”
“Of course.” She stopped. “When are you leaving?”
“In about an hour.”
“I see.” She
“No idea. I didn’t answer the phone.”
“Why not?”
“I was busy.” He took the chair across from her, leaned back, and perched one ankle on the opposite knee. He gripped it tightly instead of gritting his teeth at her latest attempt to divert the conversation, escape the inevitable.
Any other day she’d have asked, busy with what? But not today. Today, Dinah’s antennae were up. She sensed trouble, and he was about to give her some.
“I expected you hours ago,” he said. “I wanted to—”
“Freshen this, will you?” She held out her glass, still half full.
He rose, crossed over to her, and took the glass— for the fucking last time— and filled it. Poured a scotch neat for himself.
“Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“We’re not going to dinner tonight. Tonight I’m getting on a plane. Which you well know. I waited for you to say good-bye.”
“Gus, let’s not—“
He stood over her, probably looking as irritated and impatient as he felt, and handed her the drink. “I’ve tried to talk to you about this for days. Hell, months. None of it should be a surprise. Did you think your not showing up would change things?”
Ignoring his question, she set the G&T on the coffee table, picked up the black and gold bag, put her hand in, and pulled out a velvet box. “I bought you something.”
“Jesus, you haven’t heard a word I said.” He let out all the damn breath in his lungs, slashed a hand through his hair.
“It’s a Piaget. An Emperador something-or-other. Quite special, or so I’m told.” She held it out to him. Ninety grand’s worth of gold and diamond timekeeping.
He looked at the watch, then into her eyes, big, blue, and showing the barest trace of vulnerability and desperation. Hell! “I’m going, Dinah,” he said as patiently, as softly as he could. Soft generally not being his thing. “Nothing you say, or buy, will change that.” He took the watch from her hand, set it on the table, and raised her fingertips to his mouth. “I don’t want another watch, another car, or another Armani. What I want is for us to be straight with each other, and if possible, part as friends.” He paused. “I owe you, but I can’t give you what you want anymore. I don’t—”
She pulled her hand from his, holding it palm out to stop him from saying more. Closing her eyes, she took a breath, and opened them. “You don’t love me,” she finished, her voice low and cool, “the way I love you.”
Gus let her comment fall into the room’s bright white void. If there was one thing he knew about women—and he’d learned a hell of a lot through the years—anytime the L word came into play, it was time to shift into reverse. Lately, with Dinah, the word had come up on a regular basis. “It’s time for me to move on.” Years past time.
She got up and walked to the window, keeping her back to him. “You’re going to Josh. In Seattle.”
“Yes.” Only a piece of the truth. But enough.
She nodded, and he saw her straighten her shoulders before turning back to face him, pride and self-assurance intact. “I guess I shouldn’t complain. We’ve had a good run.”
“Better than most. You were there for me—and Josh—when no one else was. I won’t forget that.” And he wouldn’t. Ever. This woman had saved his life—such as it was—and given him more than he damn well deserved, but he didn’t owe her his future. The way he saw it, as complicated as their relationship was, they were even. “I’ll always be grateful, Dinah.”
“Thank you for that.” She walked to the coffee table and picked up her drink. “Give Josh a kiss for me, will you?” She gestured idly toward the abandoned watch, now gleaming hotly under the slanting rays of the afternoon sun. “Maybe he’d like it?”
Gus shook his head. “He’s got a phone.”
“Of course.” She stopped. “When are you leaving?”
“In about an hour.”
“I see.” She
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