"Is it true?"
"What's that?" he asked. He met her azure eyes with a perplexed smile. She gestured with a nod to where the music was coming from. "That you two are lovers?"
"Completely."
She nodded, added more coffee to her cup, very slowly, with considerable concentration. She emptied half a packet of Equal into her coffee. Addressing her immersed spoon, she said, "In everything I read, like "People," or that story about you in last month's "Esquire," they say you'll probably get married. To her."
"I don't know, it's hard to say" Peter said, knowing the right thing to do would be to agree with the speculation, but choosing to answer truthfully instead. "We're both very busy. She's always recording or involved in some cause or another. And I'm at Wallaby." The feeling of dread inside his heart rolled on its side. However this time, instead of striking quickly and fading away, its presence seemed to stretch out and linger as he sat watching what Ivy was doing with her half-empty packet of Equal.
She had dumped the remainder of the artificial sweetener onto the black enamel table. Using the straight edge of the little blue packet, she cut several fine, stark, parallel lines from the small white pile of grains.
Not very subtle, and not a good sign. He attempted to resume the conversation.
"Anyway, as far as marriage, we've never really discussed it seriously."
All of the sudden, he understood the feeling assaulting his senses. Trepidation.
Something - no, a number of things - were going to happen. It was as though a crystal ball had bloomed in his mind's eye, giving him a quick peek into the near future. It all came in a blurry rush, no single picture or image freezing long enough to grasp completely. But he caught the gist, just same. He would go through all the required motions, but in the back of his mind he knew he was helpless. What was coming, he realized with a throbbing certainty amplified by the wine, was only natural. Jesus, how sick that sounded to his private ear. Still, he wouldn't give in without a fight, for that, too, was only natural. Quietly he stared at the lines she'd cut, mesmerized by their orderliness.