"Don't need them for this. They told you what I want." She withdrew a single folded sheet document from inside her light jacket. "It's all here. Plain and simple."
He accepted her pen and the contract, spread the page down on the concrete.
But he didn't sign it.
Instead he put the pen down, looked her in the eye. "What do you feel?"
"Feel? About this? Excellent."
"No. I mean about me."
"You?" She looked away for a second. He could see her expression soften. "I'm not sure." She met his eyes. "But it's not anger anymore. Really it isn't."
"No, I don't mean that."
"Guilt? Nah, I'm done with that."
"No," he said. "No, not that." He looked at her forehead.
Unwrinkled and smooth, pure. Eyes so sharp, intense, curious.
Cautious. He remembered what it had been like to touch her neck,
her breasts. Back to her eyes.