I started the engine. For several blocks, neither of us spoke. I replayed the waiting room in my mind. The phone call. The shift in her posture. The way her voice had softened and sharpened at the same time.
“Who were you speaking to?” I asked finally.
“What?”
“In the waiting room, on the phone, who were you speaking to?”
She didn’t look at me. “No one.”
That was inaccurate. I tightened my grip slightly on the steering wheel.
“Belle.”
She exhaled slowly. “It’s handled.”
A low sigh of displeasure left me. “If you are seeing someone, this arrangement will not function.”
Her head snapped toward me. “Excuse me?”
“If there is another partner involved?—”
“Do you honestly think,” she interrupted, incredulous, “that I would have agreed to marry you this morning if I had a partner?”
As the light turned red, I stopped the car and turned to fully look at her. She held my gaze without flinching. Her hair was pulled back loosely. The crutches rested awkwardly against the door. The ring caught the light between us.
There was no deception in her expression, only disbelief, and something faintly offended.
“No,” I said finally.
“No?” she repeated.
“No. I do not believe you would.”
She folded her arms. “Good.”
The light changed. I pressed the accelerator. She shifted slightly in her seat.
“You are not involved with anyone?”
She studied me. Maybe I was being needy, but I required clarity. While I didn’t quite understand what we were doing, I knew I didn’t want her seeing anyone else.
“Are you asking if I’m available?” she asked.
“I am asking if there are external attachments.”
She huffed a humorless laugh. “External attachments. God, you’re ridiculous. I am not seeing anyone.”
“Are you attached to anyone?”
She hesitated. “What kind of question is that?” The pause was brief, but real. “My life is complicated,” she said.
“That was not the question.”
“I don’t have a partner. I’m not seeing anyone, or even dating anyone,” she snapped. “If that’s what you’re asking.”
That was sufficient.
“Good,” I said.
