Grant’s voice came through the dark, thick with sleep.
“Talia?”
I kept one hand over my phone.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
The bedroom was almost completely black except for the thin glow leaking between my fingers.
His suit jacket from the reception was hanging over the desk chair.
My shoes were somewhere near the door.
The dress Judith had chosen for me was draped across the back of another chair like evidence from somebody else’s life.
Grant rolled toward me.
“What time is it?”
“Three twelve.”
“Why are you awake?”
I looked at him and thought about the kitchen door at the rehearsal dinner.
Someone Grant can mold.
After the wedding, she’ll settle down.
I’ll fix her later.
There are moments when the truth does not arrive as new information.
It arrives when all the old information finally connects.
I had spent months treating each incident as separate.
Coffee was coffee.
The apartment was a disagreement about space.
The job was a disagreement about timing.
My name was tradition.
The children were family excitement.
Judith was overbearing.
Grant was stressed.
There had always been an explanation available if I wanted one badly enough.
At 3:12 that morning, I stopped wanting explanations.
Grant pushed himself onto one elbow.
“What are you looking at?”
I uncovered the phone.
He saw the Concordia name before I could lock the screen.
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
Grant was too controlled for that.
His mouth tightened and the sleep disappeared from his eyes.
“You’re still thinking about that?”
That.
The senior translator position.
The European clients.
The work I had spent years becoming qualified to do.
“Yes.”
“Talia, we just got married.”
“I noticed.”
He sat up fully.
“We leave for Sedona tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“So why are you looking at an employment contract at three in the morning?”
I stared at him.
Then I asked the question that had been sitting inside me since the rehearsal dinner.
“What did your mother mean when she said she would fix me after the wedding?”
Grant went still.
That was my answer before he spoke.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“You were listening to that?”
“I was standing six feet away.”
