She leaned back against her chair and gazed at me.
“I haven’t been with anyone since you and I got married.”
June pressed her lips together, hung her head down for a second like she was absorbing my words, then got up—all in one smooth sequence, as if she were closing some other brackets inside her.
“We’d better try to get some sleep. It’s after two,” she said, clearing both plates from the tables to the sink.
I got up and went over to where she was standing, her palms flat on the counter, her head hanging low. I circled my arms around her waist and pulled her back a little to lean against me. She was in a T-shirt and panties, I was in my boxers. Her body against mine was all I needed.
“We’ll take separate cars tomorrow,” she said, still facing the sink.
With my hands on her waist, I made her turn around. She pivoted in my arms, and her hands landed on my shoulders.
“After tomorrow, there’s no reason for you to stay here.” She didn’t look into my face, her gaze lowered somewhere between us.
“If we pass,” I teased.
“We will.”
“So, we’ll pass the interview, sign the divorce agreement, and file for divorce as soon as enough time passes for Immigration to not suspect it, according to plan?” That was what she had wanted to tell me before we’d eaten, what I’d stalled her from saying.
“Yes.”
I clenched my jaw. It wasn’t like I didn’t know this was coming. A week ago, that was all I wanted. But now, her words gutted me.
“I get my green card, you get your green shop, you go your way, and I go mine, and that’s it. Right?”
“Yes.”
I left one arm around her waist and, with the other under her chin, I made her look up. “Why?”
She jerked her head back, but I didn’t remove my hand. “Because I meant what I said earlier, Angelo.”
“Don’t you think that original plan flew out the window a few days ago?”
“It did, but …” She shifted her head, and I had to let go of her chin.
“But what? Is there still no us? No you and I?” I quoted her from a few days ago.
She inhaled and held it in before she exhaled the words. “There is tonight.” Her right hand slid from my shoulder to the rose tattoo on my chest.
“Not to me. Not just tonight.”
She gazed at me, her eyes skimming my face as if I had spoken in a foreign language.
“I’ll ask again, June. Why?”
“Well, first, because that’s what’s supposed to happen, that’s what we agreed on.”
“And second? You said ‘first,’ so there must be a second.”
She looked at me as if she were trying to gauge if I was joking or not. “Second, because … come on, Angelo.” Her tone saidstop joking around. “The two of us?” She paused as if waiting for me to solve that puzzle myself. “You wanted tomarrysomeone else not so long ago. Give yourself some time. And besides”—she huffed a dry chuckle—“we couldn’t even … I don’t know … go on a date—where would we eat? And what?”
“Chia. Didn’t you notice your dispenser running out at double the speed? I fell in love with that crunchy shit with its protein and vitamins that are good for your heart and digestion.”
She looked at me half-shocked.
“I loved what you cooked now. And if we want to go out, we can go to Mediterranean restaurants that specialize in allergies. They have gluten-free, dairy-free, taste-free, farm-to-table, and whatnot. Besides, you went with Rio to Life’s A Beach. She told me when I came looking for you the day after you didn’t come home. They don’t serve farm to table, yet you had a salad there.” I didn’t want to mention the ice cream. It had obviously been a slip on her side, and I didn’t want to be considered as another slip.
