"Don't bother coming back to the lab today," I said, turning to go. "Hallam can take care of it this morning and I'll go back later this afternoon and give him a hand."
She looked up in surprise. "You're having breakfast with me." It was not a question but a statement of fact.
"You're too tired, baby," I protested, but feebly. I hated cooking for myself and she knew it.
"I am a little tired," she admitted as she opened the door, "but bacon and eggs will pep us up. I want to talk to you."
Pat's apartment, a bachelor suite on the fourth floor, consisted of a bed-sitting room partly divided by an ornamental screen, a kitchenette and bathroom. Off the sitting room area, a tiny balcony with french doors overlooked English Bay. I strolled over to see the view. The fog was still hanging in patches to the shoreline but above the cottony masses it was a beautiful day and the mountains across Howe Sound sparkled icy white and blue in the distance. I felt a lift looking at them. Pat had removed her raincoat and hat. Now she turned from putting them in the closet to look critically at me, hands on her hips.
"Go take a shower and change clothes while I'm cooking breakfast," she said. "You look scruffy after that judo exhibition. Besides, I want to kiss you and you need a shave and you're covered with virus."
I came back, more comfortable in a clean shirt and slacks I'd left there on a previous occasion. She was sitting at the small dining table, looking over the morning paper. As I watched her read, concentrating on the epidemic story, I examined that kissable mouth, the strong straight nose, the thoughtful eyes. She wasn't the most beautiful woman I'd known but she was loyal, intelligent and good, clear through. Somewhere deep inside, a small ache began and grew. I hadn't thought much about marriage as we had agreed to let our friendship ripen into something better, if it wanted to. Now, as I watched her there, waiting for breakfast with me, I knew I was tired of our present relationship. It wasn't enough that she was my friend and, on one recent occasion, my mistress. I wanted her for a wife.
I was wondering how a childless marriage would work out when she looked up.
"Breakfast's ready any time you are," she said softly.
I went to her and raised her up. Then, slowly, without passion, I kissed her full on the lips. Her eyes were wide open and once more I saw the tears coming.