The Burnt Orange Sunrise (39 page)

Des raised her chin at him, nostrils flaring. Here it was in full force—her Wary, Scary Look. “Which
us
would you be talking about?”

“You and me us,” Mitch replied, swallowing. “She even threatened to break my arm. She’s genuinely pissed at me.”

“Does she have any reason to be?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no.”

“I see …” Des stared and stared at him. “Well,
is
there?”

Mitch swallowed again, with great difficulty. “Is there wuh-what, Des?”

“Something wrong between us.”

“Actually, there
has
been something on my mind these past few weeks. I’ve been trying to find the right moment to talk to you about it, because these words are not exactly easy for muh-me to say out loud. Maybe you’ve … I don’t know … sensed something.”

Des said not one word. Just continued to stare and stare at him.

Mitch plowed ahead, his heart pounding. “But after everything that’s happened over the past couple of days, things have really crystallized in my mind. And so—”

“And so you want to lay it all on me
now?
While I’m lying here drugged and immobilized with tubes stuck in me?”

“Well, yeah. Unless, are you reasonably coherent right now?”

“Oh, I’m plenty coherent. I can’t tell you how reasonable I am.”

“You know what? You’re right. Maybe we should have this talk another time.”

“Like hell we will!” Des erupted. Her chest had begun to rise and fall, as if she was having trouble breathing. On her face was a look of total panic, just as there had been when they were in bed together at Astrid’s during the blackout.

“Des, are you okay? Want me to call the doctor?”

“No, I want you to … get this …
over
with! I have had it up to
here
with you and your Big Fat Nothing Gulps!”

“My Big Fat Nothing
whats?”

“Just say what you … have to say,” she gasped, breathing harder and harder. “Say it and then get the … hell out of my room!”

“Fair enough. Des, I think something is missing in our relationship.”

“Missing,” she repeated, her voice filling with dread.

“From where I sit, we need to do something pretty radical about it. You may not like this. In fact, I’m pretty positive you won’t. But I think it’ll be the best thing for both of us in the long run, even though it means we’ll—”

“Mitch, I
swear
if you don’t spit this out I am going to take my external titanium whatever it is and break it over your fool—”

“I want to get married.”

She absolutely froze, her eyes widening in total shock. Clearly, this was not what she’d been expecting. Although what she
had
been expecting, Mitch could not fathom. And he for sure couldn’t imagine what she’d do next.

She breathed in. She breathed out. She breathed in. Out. And then Des Mitry proceeded to let loose with the single loudest hiccup that Mitch had ever witnessed. His ears popped. Medical charts flew. Furniture slammed into walls. Well, not really, but it was monumental.

She immediately clapped her left hand over her mouth, mortified beyond belief. “I haven’t done that since high school. It won’t happen again, I swear. I … I don’t know why I … Please, excuse me.”

“It’s quite all right,” Mitch assured her, floored. “Only, I don’t speak the language. Did that mean yes or did it mean no?”

For a long moment, Des didn’t answer him. When at last she did, she said, “Mitch, I thought we weren’t going to do this.” Her voice was soft and low. “We made a pact, you and I. That very first night in your living room, after you flicked off the lights. We sealed it with a kiss, remember?”

“I do.” Mitch grinned at her. “I also remember that’s not all we sealed it with.”

“Don’t you dare get all adorable on me right now. You made me a promise, sir. No dwelling on the meaning of us, or the future of us, or if there even
is
an us. Now did you or did you not promise me that?”

“I absolutely did. And I’m breaking my promise. And I’m sorry. No, actually, I’m not sorry at all. Because I love you, and that’s not something I ever want to feel sorry about. But what we have together just isn’t enough for me anymore. This is not a real complicated deal, Des. Either we love each other or we don’t. We’re both grown-ups. We’ve both been here before.”

“Um, okay, teensy-weensy difference,” she pointed out. “You had a good marriage. I didn’t.”

“That’s the past, Des. That’s Brandon. I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about us. I need more. I want more. The question is, what
do you
want?”

In response, Des Mitry stared at Mitch intently for a long, long time. Then she turned her head and gazed out the window at the winter sky. She didn’t tell him what she wanted. She didn’t say anything at all.

After that, there was only silence.