"That might be difficult," I say. "Considering you've barely spoken to me since the party."
Something flickers across his face.
"I know."
"You've been avoiding me."
"Yes."
At least he admits it.
"Why?"
He doesn't answer.
The silence stretches between us. I can hear my own breathing. The distant hum of the house settling around us.
"What do you want from me, Bruno?"
He looks up. Meets my eyes.
"I want you to be like that night."
"What night?"
"The party." His voice is rough. "When you... when you helped me. With the guests."
"You want me to pretend we're close," I say.
"I want you to act like you did then. Like you actually give a damn."
"I do give a damn."
The words come out before I can stop them.
Bruno goes still.
"We're stuck together," I continue. "Whether either of us wanted this or not. And I don't—I'm not the kind of person who can just turn that off. Pretend someone doesn't exist."
"I've noticed."
"Then why have you been avoiding me?"
Again, no answer.
I'm tired. Tired of the silence. Tired of trying to read a man who gives nothing away. Tired of feeling like a ghost in my own marriage.
"Your mother," I say. "What exactly does she need to see?"
Bruno's grip on the armrests loosens slightly. "She needs to see us together. Talking. Acting like we actually know each other."
"We don't know each other."
"Then we'll pretend."
"Like we did at the party."
"Yes."
