“That’s what I want to know.”
“We’re divorced.” He said the only thing he was sure of.
“That was years ago. I’m talking about now.”
“I didn’t know divorces expired.”
“Why are you doing this, Michael?” She actually stomped her foot. “Are you trying to tell me we aren’t even friends anymore? Is that it?”
Staring down at his feet, he said quietly, “I don’t know.”
“Don’t know if we’re friends?”
He couldn’t look at her, was afraid he might see the tears he heard in her voice. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. Any of it.”
“Can we talk about it?” Her voice softened as she grabbed his hand, pulled him gently toward the couch.
“If I knew what to say, we’d have talked weeks ago.”
She was so beautiful sitting there, her hair tumbling in stylish layers about her face. “Can’t you at least tell me a little of what you’re feeling?” she asked.
“Trapped.”
“By what?” Her eyes were clouded with worry—and hurt. “Me?”
“No.” He wished he could give her what she wanted, wished he knew what that was. “I don’t know.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“No!” He almost wished he was. Anger he knew what to do with.
“Do you hate me?”
Reaching out, Michael ran his hand along her face, loving the softness of her skin. “Of course not,” he said.
“You’ve never gone six weeks without calling.”
“I know.”
She waited, obviously needing more. He could only give her what he had to give.
“I missed you.” She continued to hold his gaze bravely.
“I missed you, too.” He had, he realized. Desperately.
“Does it have to be this way now? Not keeping in touch?” Her voice broke and she looked away.
“I don’t know, Sus.” His answer was straight from the heart.
She nodded. Stood. Moved away from him.
“I have a new job.” He hadn’t meant to blurt out the words. He wasn’t sure he’d meant to tell her at all. But being there with her, he couldn’t keep the news to himself any longer.
She spun around. “You do?” Surprise replaced the pain in her eyes.
“A promotion, really.”
“With Smythe and Westboume?” She frowned. “I thought you were already as high as you could go with them.”