now that she hadn't.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to be insulting, I just meant I deserved it.”
“You deserve a good swift kick in the behind, and you have all year, William Walker. What do you mean you were lonely when you got here? How could you be stupid enough to set yourself up here for two or three months and just dump me in New York? Why should I even be married to you anymore?”
“You're right. You shouldn't,” he said humbly.
“Good. I'm glad we agree on that. Let's get divorced.” She had finally said it. It was over, but he was staring at her and shaking his head at her, which confused her further.
“I don't want to,” he said, looking like a kid refusing to go to the dentist. “I don't want to divorce you,” he said firmly.
“Why not?” She looked exasperated.
“I love you.” He looked straight into her eyes as he said it, and she looked away from him and out the window.
“It's a little late for that, I'm afraid,” she said sadly. She would never believe again that he loved her. He had proved otherwise for an entire year now. He had ignored her, abandoned her, shunned her, frozen her out, gone to London for two months, and he had never offered her a moment of comfort when their son died. He had cheated her of everything he owed her as a husband.
“It's never too late,” he said, still looking at her, but she shook her head. She knew different. “Are you saying you could never forgive me? That's not like you. You've always been so forgiving.”
“Probably too much so,” she said wisely. “I don't know why, but I do know it's too late for me. I'm really sorry,” she said, standing up, and turning her back to him, as she looked out at the rooftops of London. She wanted to end their discussion. She had told him she wanted a divorce. This was what she had come for. And she had a fax to send… “
But she hadn't realized that Bill had come up behind her, and she jumped a foot when he put his arms around her. “Don't do that, please,” she said, without turning around to see him.
“I want to,” he said, sounding desperately unhappy, “just one last time, please… let me hold you…”
“I can't,” she said miserably, and turned around to face him. He had his arms around her and his face was inches from hers, and he wasn't letting go. She wanted to tell him she didn't love him anymore, but she didn't have the guts to say it. And it wasn't true yet. But it would be one day. It would just take time. She had loved him for too long for it to disappear overnight. But he had hurt her too much for her to want to love him. The only trouble was, she still did though.
“I love you,” he said, looking right at her, and she closed her eyes. He was still holding her and he wouldn't let go, and she didn't want to see him.
“I don't want to hear it.” But she didn't move away either.
“It's true. It always was. I love you… oh, God, even if you leave me now, please believe that. I will always love you… just like I loved Todd…” He was crying again, and without meaning to, she bowed her head, and put it on his shoulder. She could suddenly remember how painful it was, when it had happened to them, and Bill hadn't been there for her. He had been so dead and hurt and frozen that he couldn't help her. And now he was crying for their son, and so was she, as she clung to her husband. “I love you so much,” Bill said again, and then he kissed her, and she tried to back away, and pull away from him, but she couldn't. Instead she found herself kissing him, and hating herself for it. How could she be so weak? How could she give in to him? And the worst thing was that she wanted to kiss him.
“Don't,” she said, when he stopped, and they were both breathless. But she found that kissing him had soothed the hurt even if it didn't end the pain. And then he kissed her again, and she kissed him, and it felt like she never wanted him to stop, for forever. “This is not appropriate,” she said breathlessly. “I came here to divorce you.”
“I know,” he said, kissing her, and then suddenly it had gone much further. He was touching her and holding her and she was kissing him, and neither of them could understand their attraction for each other. It hadn't happened to them for a year, and now suddenly they were both overwhelmed with desire, and before either of them knew what had occurred, they were in bed, and she had never wanted him as much or been more aroused by him, and he was seized with passion for her as he had never known it. The room was strewn with their clothes, and they were both exhausted when they finally stopped. It had been a year for both of them, and as she lay and looked at him, she grinned, and then suddenly she laughed, it was all so absurd, and he was smiling.
“This is disgusting,” she said, still grinning at him. “I came here to divorce you.”
“I know,” he said, but he was still smiling. “I can't believe this. I don't know what happened… let's do it again…” And an hour later, they did. They talked and they made love, and he lay in her arms and cried for their son, and what he had done to her, and they made love again. He never saw his secretary again that day and she had no idea what had happened to him except that he had said he was going to an important meeting, and that was what she told everyone who called him.
They were still naked and in bed at six o'clock, and they were spent. He asked her if she wanted room service, but all she wanted was to be with him, and she slept in his arms. And when she woke the next morning, he was looking at her, praying it hadn't been a dream. The one thing he knew in his life, with all the uncertainties he'd found, was that he didn't want to lose her. And he told her that over breakfast. He had ordered a huge breakfast for both of them, they were starving, for food and each other. And as they sat and talked, he asked her what she wanted to do that day. He made it sound as though they were on vacation.
“Don't you have to work?” she asked, finishing her omelette, and taking a sip of coffee.
“I'm taking the day off. If you're going back to New York, I want to be with you before you go,” and then with a sad look, he added, “I'll take you to the airport.” But after breakfast, they made love again, and had almost missed her plane by then. She could have made it if she'd leapt out of bed and dressed in a hurry, but she didn't want to. She wanted to stay. For a day, a week, the duration of his stay. Whatever it took. Maybe forever. And she said as much to him as they sat together in the bathtub.
“Will you stay?” he asked ever so gently, and when she nodded, he kissed her.
“All I have with me are cowboy boots and jeans, and about two proper city dresses.” She smiled at him and he looked happier than she'd ever seen him.
“You'll be all the rage in London. Do we have to have separate rooms?”
“No,” she said seriously, “but I still want to sell the apartment.” He thought it was a good idea too. It was time for them to move on, to heal, to find each other again, and with any luck at all, start over. He had every intention of making that happen, and he was grateful to her for letting him do it. He swore the nightmare of the past year would never happen again, and after all the talking they'd done, she believed him.
He said he wanted to take her out that afternoon, just for a walk, so he could be with her and talk to her, and remember how sweet it was to walk beside her. But he had to stop at his office first. He had promised his secretary when he called that he'd sign some papers. And Mary Stuart had said she would meet him in the lobby.
She dressed quietly, thinking of him, and the time they had shared, and she jotted the note with shaking hands once she was dressed. She was wearing a brown linen dress, which was the only other respectable dress she had brought to London, and her hair wasn't as neat as usual. She looked younger ad just a little bit disheveled. She had already told Bill that if she stayed, she had to go shopping. But she wasn't thinking of that now, she was thinking of him, the man who had ridden through the wildflowers with her in Wyoming.
She went downstairs and spoke to the concierge, and he said it was no problem to send it for her, although he reminded her that her husband had a private fax already set up in his office. But she preferred to do it with the concierge, she explained, and she gave him the fax number. She had written out two words, and her eyes filled with tears as she handed him the paper.
“It will go out immediately, madam,” he said, and she trembled at the pain it would cause, for both of them. But he had been wiser than she was. He had realized better than she had what might happen.
The paper said “Adieu, Arielle.” Nothing more. Just that. And she never mailed him her letter. There was no point now. That had been her promise to him. Just two words and no explanations.
“Ready for some air?” Bill asked when he came downstairs. He thought she seemed quiet again, and he was worried, and he saw when he looked at her that she'd been crying. They'd been in her room for nearly two days, but they had settled a lot of things, and he put his arms around her again right there in the lobby.
“It's okay, Stu… I swear it'll be all right… I love you.” But she hadn't been thinking of him. She'd been saying
