Marriage Matters

Forty-five

The clock on the top of the desk seemed to tick in time with her heart. Kristine sat in her black rolling desk chair, her feet drumming against the tile of the floor. The office felt too hot, as it always did during the first few days of winter while the staff tried to find a temperature that worked. Seventy might be perfect one year and boil them the next. She wished she could take off her sweater but wasn’t certain what shirt she was wearing underneath. Considering Ethan was stopping by, she felt an irrational desire to remain covered up.

Knock knock.

“Hey.” Ethan walked into her office and shut the door behind him, a slight swagger to his step. He took a seat in the chair across from her and crossed his legs. “It’s good to see you.”

Kristine gave a sharp nod. Squaring her shoulders, she resolved to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible. “Thanks for coming in.”

At her brisk tone, Ethan seemed startled. Then, he gave her a wry look. “I take it the rest of your trip went okay.”

Kristine felt her cheeks color. “It was great.” She picked up a pen and fidgeted with it, trying not to look at him. “My husband and I went up to Venice. We spent a week there, just like when we were younger. It was very special.”

“The canals.” Ethan gave a slight smile. “A never-ending maze of mystery.”

Why did he have to say things like that? Kristine gripped the pen and licked her lips. They suddenly felt a little too dry and she considered reaching into her desk drawer and applying some gloss, but changed her mind. She didn’t want to give the impression that she was trying to . . . impress him.

Staring at the pen, she clicked it. “Ethan, I asked you to come in today because . . .” Click-click. Click-click. It sounded like a heartbeat. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to continue working here.”

“Ah.”

Kristine shifted in her chair. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” His brow was furrowed, his face serious. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Kristine.”

Quickly, she got to her feet and crossed her arms. “I have to get back to work.”

“Wait.” Ethan pulled out a small wrapped package from his jacket pocket. Handing it to her, he said, “I brought you something.”

Kristine hesitated, her eyes glancing at the door. What if Annie walked in?

“Open it.” His voice was low and intimate. “Please.”

With fingers that still trembled, Kristine untied the red string around the plain paper. A black-and-white photograph stared up at her from a frame. She remembered the exact moment it was taken in St. Peter’s Square, right after Ethan threw her guidebook away. She’d turned to the camera with a look that was both dark and inviting.

“That’s how I see you,” he said. “I really hate to think that I’m losing that.”

For a brief moment, she held tightly to the frame. It was so hard to believe that the wild, beautiful woman in the picture was her. Then she handed the gift back to Ethan.

“I’m sorry.” Her heart felt as heavy as lead. “I just can’t.”

Ethan studied her for a long moment. Then, tucking the photograph under his arm, he turned and walked out the door.