You have me right here and now, Maura.

But not all of you. Not until you make a choice.

She looked out the window at cars splashing through the downpour. Daniel can’t bring himself to choose, she thought. And even if he did choose me, even if he did leave the priesthood, leave his precious church, guilt would always be in the room with us, glaring at us like his invisible mistress. She watched windshield wipers beat away the sheeting water, and the somber light outside matched her mood.

“You’ll be cutting it close,” he said. “Did you check in online?”

“Yesterday. I have my boarding pass.”

“Okay. That’ll save you a few minutes.”

“But I need to check in my suitcase. I couldn’t fit my winter clothes in the carry-on.”

“You’d think they’d choose someplace warm and sunny for a medical conference. Why Wyoming in November?”

“ Jackson Hole ’s supposed to be beautiful.”

“So is Bermuda.”

She ventured a look at him. The gloom of the car hid the careworn lines of his face, but she could see the thickening silver in his hair. In just one year, how much older we’ve grown, she thought. Love has aged us both.

“When I get back, let’s go someplace warm together,” she said. “Just for a weekend.” She gave a reckless laugh. “Hell, let’s forget the world and go away for a whole month.”

He was silent.

“Or is that too much to ask?” she said softly.

He gave a weary sigh. “As much as we might like to forget the world, it’s always here. And we’d have to return to it.”

“We don’t have to do anything.”

The look he gave her was infinitely sad. “You don’t really believe that, Maura.” He turned his gaze back to the road. “Neither do I.”

No, she thought. We both believe in being so goddamn responsible. I go to work every day, pay my taxes right on schedule, and do what the world expects of me. I can babble all I want about running away with him and doing something wild and crazy, but I know I never will. And neither will Daniel.