Marley’s eyebrows shot up. As the waiter left the table, she said, “I thought you wanted to have lunch.”
“No, I said I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay, talk.” Marley reached for his hand, but he drew it away and put it in his lap.
“Uh, Marley, I have something to tell you.” He cleared his throat, and this time he stared at some point right behind her left shoulder.
Marley’s heart thumped. “What is it, Michael? What’s wrong?” Was he ill? Had he lost his job?
He stared at a burned spot on the rustic table as if it had come to life and was about to bite him. “I..I’ve met someone.”
Marley cocked her head. “Who did you meet?”
His voice was so low she had a hard time hearing him. “Her name is Heather.”
Everything clicked. He wouldn’t hold hands with her. He wouldn’t look at her. Cold more intense than anything outside settled into her veins and almost took her breath away, but she clung to the hope that she was wrong. “I..I don’t understand.”
His eyes briefly met hers before they slid away. “Yes, you do. I’m sorry, Marley, but I can’t marry you after all.”