Reconcilable Differences

He snorted. “Gee, you don’t say.”

“Forget it.”

She opened the door to leave. He was being stupid. Letting his emotions cloud his common sense. Maybe she did know something that could help the Agency and it would be prudent for him to listen to her.

“Okay. Okay. Relax. Let’s hear it.”

She closed the door and came back and sat down. “If you don’t mind, I will have something to drink. A glass of water will be fine.”

A half wall separated the living room from the kitchen. Trish watched him as he got an ice tray out of the freezer. She could envision the play of muscles across his shoulders as he worked at releasing the cubes and yearned to go up behind him and slip her arms around his waist, cuddle against him and lay her head against his back the way she had done so often when they were together.

“How long have you lived here, Dave?”

“Came back to D.C. about three years ago.”

Three years. She’d still been single three years ago. If only she’d known. If only…

He came back and handed her the glass of water. “You still living in that apartment we had?”

“No. I moved back home shortly after I married Robert.”

“When did you get married?”

“Two years ago.”

“Two years.” Remorse flickered in his eyes. For a long moment their gazes locked, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thoughts she was. Then he walked away and leaned against the wall again.

“So what is it you came to say?”

Trish took a drink of the water and then put the glass aside.

“I don’t know if there’s anything to this. It very well could be entirely innocent, but nevertheless certainly unusual. I remembered Mr. McDermott saying something about diamonds to Robert and Ali.” She paused, waiting for him to absorb what she had just told him.