Chapter 23: Her Terms

He rang the bell of his own house at eight o'clock exactly.

I opened the door in my burgundy wrap dress, with my hair down and my feet bare.

He stood on the step with his hands at his sides, in a dark shirt with no tie.

"You came," I said.

"You asked."

"Empty your pockets."

He took out his wallet and his keys and set them on the hall table.

He took out his phone.

I held out my hand for it, and he gave it to me without a word.

I walked into the kitchen, opened the drawer where we kept the takeout menus, and put the phone inside.

I shut the drawer.

"If it rings, it rings," I said.

"All right."

"There's one more thing."

He reached into his breast pocket and took out a small band of gold.

He had carried it for five months.

It was the first time I had seen it since the dock.

He laid it on the table beside the keys.

"I didn't want to leave it in the car," he said.

I looked at the ring for a long moment.

"I withdrew the petition this morning," I said. "I didn't ask your permission. I'm telling you."

He stared at me.

"Stephanie."

"It doesn't mean I forgive you. It means I'm not leaving tonight, and I'm not going to pretend I want to."

"What do you want?"

"Stand there," I said. "Don't touch me until I say."

I crossed the kitchen.

The lamp over the stove was the only light.

I stood in front of him, close enough to feel the heat coming off his shirt.

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