“Okay,” she whispered. He opened the door of the Mercedes like a gentleman, closed it for her, walked around to the driver’s side. When he opened his door, she said, “Sol?”

“What?” He fastened his seatbelt, slammed the door, started the car. The heater smelled like burning socks.

“I love you.” She continued to cry. He backed the car out into weak sunshine, felt the crunch of the tires as they hit the street. “I really do, Sol. Nobody else loves you like I do.”

The saddest thing about it was she really believed it. He handed her a Kleenex, winced when she blew her nose. He was tired of her, sick and tired, but it was important to be a man about these things. Let her down gently.

“I know you do, sweetheart. You’re one in a million.” He searched for a new cliche. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes. Yes, you do.” The tears died off to wet snuffles. He gave her another Kleenex. “Oh, Sol, you’re great, you’re really great. I never thought I’d find anybody like you.”

“That’s great, but—”

“Please don’t leave me. Please.” She batted tear-clumped eyelashes at him. He sighed and kept driving, turning left on the Tollway, out to the ’burbs where she still kept a cheap one-room apartment. She hadn’t planned on keeping it much longer, he knew. Good thing he’d made up his mind.

At the tollbooth he blew through at fifty miles an hour without paying; red lights flashed, bells rang, no cops.

“Fasten your seatbelt,” he said. Sniffing, she did, then folded her hands in her lap and sat like a schoolgirl, head down. “Look, it’s time for you to move on, find somebody else. It’s better that way. Better for both of us.”

She started crying again. He took the Mercedes up to seventy and let her cry.

Fifteen minutes later, he eased to a stop in the parking lot next to her building, switched off the engine, sat for a second with his eyes closed. He didn’t feel so good—he’d turned the heater up too high, maybe he was catching something. Cold. Flu. Something. He needed bed rest, some hot soup.

“Sol?” Kelly hadn’t moved. She sat twisting a loop of red hair in her fingers, watching him with big hopeful eyes. He unhooked his seatbelt and reached across her to pop the trunk. “Oh, Sol, please—”

The freezing air felt good on his skin. God, he was sweating. As he hauled her garbage bag out of the trunk, a knife of pain went under his ribs. He winced and fell heavily against the car.

“Sol?” The car shifted up as Kelly got out and came around the back. He couldn’t get his breath. Heart attack. That was what it was. No big deal, an ambulance’d fix him right—