Invisible Anna, стр. 52

“That one, however,” she gestured over her shoulder into the candlelit night, “might be willing to provide a womb, although I do imagine you’ll have to provide a tummy tuck after her scheduled C-section.”

Touché, and a solid hit for Anna Granger.

Daniel receded into the rustic leather chair, rested his chin on his knuckles, and stared out to sea. Nausea rose in Anna’s belly and collided with a rogue wave of remorse. She pressed her lips together and signaled to their waiter.

“I’d like to order. I’m done being upset, and I’m sorry I lashed out.” Her jaw was so tight that it was hard to speak.

“Your anger has had thirty years to fester.” His voice was controlled and quiet. He rotated to face her, deflated, then placed his elbows on either side of his empty plate, rested his forehead against steepled fingertips, and spoke. “She had an abortion. The other woman I was seeing when you and I were together became pregnant the first year of grad school. She knew she wanted to complete her degree, and she didn’t tell me what she did until after it was done.”

Anna set aside her menu. “Trish—that girlfriend?”

Daniel nodded, still looking at the tabletop. “I was going to tell you she had a miscarriage, but that’s not the truth.”

“Daniel, do you want to eat here, or would you like to come to my room and we’ll order room service?”

“Order here,” he said, pressing his thumbs into the corners of his eyes, “and have them deliver it. I’d rather not be around other people right now.”

Anna watched him struggle to maintain composure. She handed him her room card and took over. “Tell me what you want. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Her heels hit the stone flooring, the staccato sound accompanying every step on her way back to her room. The door was ajar, and someone had lit the fire pit on her balcony. Soft light glowed from recessed sconces, and the room smelled of the lotion Daniel had rubbed over her body. She stepped into the foyer area and paused.

Daniel stood in front of the drink cart, looking dazed as he read the label on the bottle of mescal.

“Let me make us something to drink,” she offered. “Jorge showed me how to make the limeade.”

He didn’t move.

“Daniel?” She kept her voice kind and low. Whatever anger had fueled her words at the restaurant had burned itself out on her way to the room.

“Can you leave the door open and sit with me?” He gestured to the balcony. Anna slipped her arms around his waist from behind and rested the side of her head on his back. She squeezed and let go, guiding him to the couch in front of the fire pit. A blanket was there to be draped over his shoulders.

She poured him a glass of mescal and settled nearby, her knees bent, legs on the couch, a concerned look fixed to her face. “Talk to me.”

He circled one hand around the blown glass tumbler and swirled the contents. The ice cubes were melting, leaving beads of condensation on the outside of the glass. “Being here, with you, has pushed me into a painful realization.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Please, Daniel, talk. For your sake, not mine.

“Not really.” He took a deep breath. The couch cushions lifted when Anna stood up and walked away.

Jorge returned in her place, rolling a cart in front of him. “Wine, sir?”

Daniel nodded. The restaurant had sent another bottle of the red he’d ordered earlier. Jorge did the uncorking, a flourish in every movement of his presentation, and poured a splash into Daniel’s glass for his approval. While he poured, Anna uncovered their plates and placed them on the low table in front of their chairs. She needed to get some food in her soon. The table, the fire, and their dinners cordoned off the space between them.

“I’d like to talk.” She leaned forward to slice her tenderloin into bite-sized pieces before bringing the plate to her lap, setting her wine glass on the tiled edge of the fire pit, and spearing a mouthful.

He watched her chew before taking a few bites from the thick slab of grilled tuna. He finished his first glass of wine as he ate, dipping more chunks of the meaty fish into its accompanying side dishes. “After I eat.”

Anna sighed loudly, for both their benefits. “I love this place, Danny, but you’re making it hard to love being here with you.”

He swallowed and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Her words kept coming. “You seem incapable, or unwilling, to engage with me to any depth. And I need more. You’re in obvious pain about something that happened decades ago, and you won’t let me help.” She put her plate on the table and nestled into the cushion at her back, once again tucking her feet onto the couch. “I’m not interested in pretending with you, and I’m not willing to exchange sex for expensive wine and these…these incredible accommodations.” She waved her fork in the air, re-centered her attention on her dinner and stabbed at another piece of meat. She stared at him while she chewed. “I feel like I should send a check to your office when I get home.”

“I won’t let you do that. This trip was my idea, my gift.” He took another sip of wine and grimaced. The act of swallowing looked painful. He rubbed at his chest. “I started looking for you, Annalissa, because I was facing turning fifty. I was alone, never married, plenty of friends, but very little family. I have a sister, a brother-in-law, and a nephew—and that’s it.”

Anna chewed quietly. The two glasses of wine she guzzled at the restaurant were going to her head. If he was finally ready to open up, she needed as many wits about her as she could muster.

Daniel shook his head, out of words. “Trish had an abortion without telling me beforehand. She only let me know after it