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guard. “Tell me about you,” he urges good-naturedly. “What you’ve been doing… work and all.”
    “You already know everything that’s been going on in my life.” I say, “You knew where I worked without asking me, you know where I live, and I’ll bet you know everything I’ve done in the past two months.”
    He shrugs carelessly, and I know I’m right.
    I sigh. “I really don’t want the money David.”
    “We’ll talk about that.” He says firmly. There’s a small hesitation before he speaks again. “There’ll have to be at least some sort of settlement you’re comfortable with.”
    Settlement. That word again.
    I study his face, trying to read his expression, but as usual, there’s nothing there. A knot of dread forms in my stomach. He wants to talk about a settlement, a permanent arrangement that will signify the reality of our separation and the beginning of a divorce.
    I should welcome it, I think. The money aside, I should welcome a divorce, a chance to start again, but the idea fills me with anguish. I won’t be able to bear it.
    Get a hold of yourself Sophie, I tell myself as I take another sip of my wine. A divorce will hurt. It will break my heart all over again, but pain does not kill, and it won’t kill me.
    Pain does not kill.
    Our food arrives, but I can hardly eat. My stomach is in knots as I wait for David to say something. Finally, he summons a waiter to clear the dishes and then it’s just both of us again.
    I close my eyes, waiting.
    “Sophie.” He starts, saying my name softly, almost as if he’s not actually calling me, but saying it just to feel it on his lips, like a prayer. I force myself to look up at him.
    “You said something about a settlement,” I say, the words thick in my throat. “If you want a divorce, just give me the papers.” I force my voice to be steady. “I’ll sign them.”
    He looks taken aback, almost shaken, as his brow creases in a frown. For a long moment, he is silent. I realize that I’m gripping the edge of the table.
    When he speaks, there’s an edge to his voice. “Is that what you want?” He mutters, “A divorce?”
    I should say yes. How can I let go of the past if I don’t break the only thing still holding me captive to it? Yet I know that being married to David is not the only thing holding me captive to the past. A thousand divorces won’t change the way I feel about him.
    I look away from him, avoiding his question and the intensity of his gaze. I don’t want to see the desire in his eyes. I don’t want to hope, when hope will only lead to pain. “Isn’t that what you want?” I whisper.
    I feel, rather than see him lean forward. “No.” He says intently. I look up at him, and the earnest expression on his face almost kills me. “I don’t want a divorce, Sophie. I want you.”
    My heart starts to pound again. I close my eyes and let the words wash over me, letting out a shaky breath as I try to control the emotions rioting in my blood. How is it possible to feel such joy and such pain at the same time? All the feelings I’ve managed to keep at bay for months rise swiftly to the surface.
    “I’ve tried to give you some space,” He continues, his eyes on my face burning and almost wild, “I was still trying this morning, Sophie, because I thought that was what you wanted… needed.” He lets out a breath. “Well I’m done trying.” He says, his voice firm and determined as those blue eyes burn a hole through me. “I want you Sophie, and I want you back.”
    Please don’t do this, I say silently, opening my eyes. He’s still looking at me, waiting for me to say something. I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him. I want to tell him how thinking of him keeps me awake at night, how he haunts all my thoughts and my dreams. I want to tell him that I love him.
    But what would be the point?
    “You want me back in your bed,” I say softly, “That’s the only place where I ever meant anything to you.”
    His