I had told my friends that Daniel loved me for my intelligence, my kindness, and the life experience I had accumulated over decades.
I had told myself that age was just a number.
But as I stared into that cup, I remembered something Daniel had said three nights earlier.
“If anything happened to you, Margaret, I honestly don’t know what I’d do.”
At the time, I had thought it was romantic.
Now, I wondered whether he had been practicing what he would say after I died.
I set the cup down.
“Actually, darling, I think I’d prefer some water.”
For the first time since I had known him, Daniel’s smile disappeared.
“Water?”
“Yes. I’m rather thirsty.”
He looked at the cup, then back at me.
“You always drink your tea.”
“People change.”
His jaw tightened for barely a second.
Then he stood, walked around the table, and kissed my forehead.
