He rose and crossed the room to settle beside her on the gold damask couch. He gazed right into her eyes and spoke soothingly. “You’re a woman in a delicate stage of her life. You’re approaching your mid-thirties—”
“I’m thirty-one!”
He carried on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Your biological clock’s ticking.” He brushed his finger across her nose as though she were a fretful child. “I think we should move up the weddingdate.”
The tightness in her chest was becoming a burning. “Why?”
He patted her knee. He actually patted her knee. “You’re acting out, exhibiting behavior that’s out of character. I think you’re sending me a pretty clearmessage.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m a postpartum patient. I’m your fiancée.” And where were the words of love she equated with choosing a mate? The romantic gestures, thesex?!
“I just want to help you, guideyou.”
Control me,she thought, and the burningintensified.
He took her left hand, where a tiny diamond gleamed weakly. She’d tried to convince herself the ring was tasteful, but really it was just cheap. “I could make some room in my schedule in April. We could get married then.” He glanced at her head doubtfully. “Will your hair be back to normal bythen?”
Maybe she wasn’t being fair. For him, deciding on a wedding date a mere seven months away was being spontaneous. She tried to kindle a little enthusiasm. “We could take some of the money I get from the house and go on a really greathoneymoon.”
He gave her that smile again. “Do you have any idea how property values are rising in this neighborhood? We’re only forty-five minutes outside Seattle. The house is close to my practice and your job. It’s a wonderful place to raise a family. After we’re married you’ll settledown.”
Their clasped hands were starting to sweat. Visions of Venice and Aruba faded. “What about ourhoneymoon?”
“It’s already arranged. I’m swapping Myron Slavinsky an extra week of hospital rounds for a week at his timeshare in PalmDesert.”
“Practicing your golf game for your retirement?” She pasted on a phony jovial smile. The burning was so bad she gasped. Maybe she was having a panicattack.
He pushed his glasses back on his nose. “Golf is growing in popularity with younger people, too. You’d besurprised.”
She pulled her hand away. “I can’t do it, Walter.” Funny how calm she felt now she’d made her decision. If she married Walter, she wouldn’t just be settling, she’d be sinking to subterranean depths. She’d be buried alive. No wonder she couldn’tbreathe.
“But Myron says the course is very good. And anyone staying in the timeshare gets a discount on thegolfing.”
“Then maybe you and Myron should go, since you both like to golf and I hate it.” The burning was spreading, from her chest to her whole body. Kind of like a heart attack, she supposed, except instead of blocking, her arteries felt like they were unclogging. New life pumped through her veins. She jumpedup.
“Since when doyou—”
“Since always. I’ve always hated golf. And bridge. Only you never listened to me. I think you should listen now, and listen carefully. I’m not marrying you, Walter. It would be adisaster.”
To her absolute fury, his patronizing smile didn’t falter. “You’re upset,irrational.”
“I’m angry!” And she was, angrier than she’d ever been. She stalked across the living-room carpet, energized by her fury. She felt sharp, as if all the fuzzy edges of her brain had burned clean. “I’m so angry I want to throw things, swear, have sex with astranger.”
Walter cleared his throat. “It keeps coming back to intercourse, I see. I don’t want to hurt you, Cynthia, but perhaps I could arrange for you to speak with one of my colleagues who understands these stages women go through—before you do something youregret.”
Her pacing stalled for a moment. “Talk to a colleague? You mean apsychiatrist?”
“There’s no need to use that tone. It’s perfectly all right to seek professional help when you’re feeling confused, and actingirrational.”
“But I’m not different. Or irrational. This is the real me. I’ve only just realized it. And we’d be terrible together, Walter. I—I want different things. Excitement, romance, travel. I don’t want to spend my thirties saving forretirement.”
She’d hit him where he lived, she knew. The man was obsessed with money and security. She had a hunch it was her accounting background that had first attracted him toher.
He looked lost for a moment, sitting there staring at her. “Don’t do anything rash. Take a week or so to think things over and we’ll talk again.” He gazed at her, looking truly troubled, and for a moment she thought maybe he did love her after all. Then he said, “Promise me you won’t put this house on themarket.”
“Goodbye, Walter.” She tugged the engagement ring off her finger and passed it to him. He opened his palm and she dropped the ring intoit.
He glanced at the ring and then at her. “I hope you know what you’redoing.”
