Seven o’clock was a door I should not have knocked on.
Diana opened it in black. No robe. Wine already poured. The house smelled like garlic and her perfume and the oil I had washed off my skin twice.
“Elias said you might cancel,” she said. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
The table was set for two. I sat. I ate. I talked about Frankfurt like a wife. She asked if I had heard from him. I said this morning. I did not say I had almost written I will wait and sent Okay instead.
We did not mention the spa.
He called in the middle of the second glass.
Diana put him on speaker because she was that kind of cruel, or that kind of honest.
“Baby,” Elias said. “You’re there. Good. Don’t let her put you to work. I’ll be back Friday. I miss you.”
“I miss you,” I said, and Diana watched my mouth.
“Love y
