It lasted less than a second.
Neither of us moved immediately.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
There was no dramatic music, no sudden declaration, no moment in which the entire world seemed to stop.
There was simply a question neither of us was ready to ask.
Diane stepped back first.
“It’s getting late.”
“I should go.”
She walked me to the front door.
The same doorway where she’d first invited me inside.
“Ethan,” she said, resting her hand against the frame, “I need you to understand something.”
I waited.
“I’m not interested in games. I’m not interested in pretending I’m younger than I am, and I’m not interested in being someone’s experiment after a difficult relationship.”
“I don’t see you that way.”
“I hope not.”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“I’m forty-six. I buried my husband. I have a daughter who will always be part of my life. I have a career I worked hard to build, and I have no intention of shrinking myself to make a man comfortable.”
