be involved with the big businesses.” She gazed at him, her eyes ablaze with interest. He returned her steady gaze.
“I used to be a part of all that, but I never really enjoyed designing large facilities. And the amount of hours and work it took to do the big jobs was staggering. When Sara was alive, I did both. I’d work with my partner all day on bigger projects, then go home to my den and do what I loved, design homes.” He sighed, his eyes staring off now at some distant place.
“You could have called me a workaholic in those days. I worked constantly, leaving Sara with everything else. But after she died, I realized that I was needed at home more. So, I slowed down on the big projects, letting my partner take over that end, and I went back to just designing homes for clients. I still consult with Jeffrey on big projects, but otherwise, I’m satisfied creating homes.”
“It must have been hard after Sara died,” Annie said sympathetically. “Your life must have changed dramatically.”
“It was difficult. Sometimes it still is.” He hesitated a moment, unsure of continuing. He hadn’t spoken much about losing Sara to anyone, even after all these years. But Annie's warm smile encouraged him to continue.
“You know, after she died, I was completely lost—literally. She did everything for our family, from the grocery shopping to the clothes shopping, paying the bills—everything. I didn’t know where to pick up the dry cleaning. I had no idea where she bought our prescription medicines. I didn’t even know the names of my kids’ teachers at school.” He sighed, his gaze far off in the distance. “In many ways, when I think of it, I used her. I just allowed her to take everything over so I’d have more time to do what interested me. I regret that now.”
Annie shook her head. “I never want to be anyone’s doormat,” she said without thinking, regretting the words as soon as they left her lips.
William looked up at her indignantly. “My wife was not a doormat,” he insisted, his eyes ablaze.
“I didn’t mean…” Annie tried to apologize for her thoughtless words, but the expression on his face changed abruptly to sadness, making her stop.
He looked at her with soulful eyes and sighed. “But we treated her like one,” he said softly.
“I didn’t mean to say you did,” she told him, wanting to reach across the table, fold him into her arms, and beg his forgiveness. Anything to take the sorrow from his eyes, the pain from his heart. But she could only sit there, because the truth was she barely knew him, had only met him yesterday, and such a familiar gesture was unacceptable. She could only sit there and watch him as she wondered where this deep desire to ease his pain came from.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again in a quiet voice, but he only shook his head gently.
“It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he told her.
“But I shouldn’t have said that,” she said.
“It’s all right,” he assured her, feigning a smile. But they both knew that the evening was over. The lightheartedness and warmth they’d felt earlier had changed to a cold heaviness that no words could change.
In almost complete silence, he drove her home, saying a polite goodbye before driving away, leaving her feeling more empty and alone than she had ever felt.
No sooner had Annie stepped into her condo than there was a quick knock at the door. For one brief moment, Annie hoped it was William coming back to tell her he forgave her for her inappropriate comment and that all was fine. But before Annie could answer the door, it opened to reveal a head of springy brown curls and a smiling face with big, brown eyes. Her friend, Cherise Adams, walked into the room holding a pizza box.
"Hey lady," Cherise said with a smile. "I just got home with this pizza and wondered if you'd like to share it with me."
Annie couldn't help but smile. Cherise was always so bubbly and
“I used to be a part of all that, but I never really enjoyed designing large facilities. And the amount of hours and work it took to do the big jobs was staggering. When Sara was alive, I did both. I’d work with my partner all day on bigger projects, then go home to my den and do what I loved, design homes.” He sighed, his eyes staring off now at some distant place.
“You could have called me a workaholic in those days. I worked constantly, leaving Sara with everything else. But after she died, I realized that I was needed at home more. So, I slowed down on the big projects, letting my partner take over that end, and I went back to just designing homes for clients. I still consult with Jeffrey on big projects, but otherwise, I’m satisfied creating homes.”
“It must have been hard after Sara died,” Annie said sympathetically. “Your life must have changed dramatically.”
“It was difficult. Sometimes it still is.” He hesitated a moment, unsure of continuing. He hadn’t spoken much about losing Sara to anyone, even after all these years. But Annie's warm smile encouraged him to continue.
“You know, after she died, I was completely lost—literally. She did everything for our family, from the grocery shopping to the clothes shopping, paying the bills—everything. I didn’t know where to pick up the dry cleaning. I had no idea where she bought our prescription medicines. I didn’t even know the names of my kids’ teachers at school.” He sighed, his gaze far off in the distance. “In many ways, when I think of it, I used her. I just allowed her to take everything over so I’d have more time to do what interested me. I regret that now.”
Annie shook her head. “I never want to be anyone’s doormat,” she said without thinking, regretting the words as soon as they left her lips.
William looked up at her indignantly. “My wife was not a doormat,” he insisted, his eyes ablaze.
“I didn’t mean…” Annie tried to apologize for her thoughtless words, but the expression on his face changed abruptly to sadness, making her stop.
He looked at her with soulful eyes and sighed. “But we treated her like one,” he said softly.
“I didn’t mean to say you did,” she told him, wanting to reach across the table, fold him into her arms, and beg his forgiveness. Anything to take the sorrow from his eyes, the pain from his heart. But she could only sit there, because the truth was she barely knew him, had only met him yesterday, and such a familiar gesture was unacceptable. She could only sit there and watch him as she wondered where this deep desire to ease his pain came from.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again in a quiet voice, but he only shook his head gently.
“It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he told her.
“But I shouldn’t have said that,” she said.
“It’s all right,” he assured her, feigning a smile. But they both knew that the evening was over. The lightheartedness and warmth they’d felt earlier had changed to a cold heaviness that no words could change.
In almost complete silence, he drove her home, saying a polite goodbye before driving away, leaving her feeling more empty and alone than she had ever felt.
No sooner had Annie stepped into her condo than there was a quick knock at the door. For one brief moment, Annie hoped it was William coming back to tell her he forgave her for her inappropriate comment and that all was fine. But before Annie could answer the door, it opened to reveal a head of springy brown curls and a smiling face with big, brown eyes. Her friend, Cherise Adams, walked into the room holding a pizza box.
"Hey lady," Cherise said with a smile. "I just got home with this pizza and wondered if you'd like to share it with me."
Annie couldn't help but smile. Cherise was always so bubbly and
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