She sipped her wine and let these thoughts vanish, replaced by the memory of Michael O’Neil’s words an hour ago.

So, here’s the thing…

A tight knot in her belly.

“Kathryn?”

She blinked and realized Boling had asked her something. “Sorry?”

“Antioch. He was Greek?”

“Probably second or third generation. He didn’t look Mediterranean. He looked like some hunky actor.”

“Antioch. That’s a town, right?”

“I don’t know.”

They watched a wraith of fog skim the house, urged on by a modest breeze. The temperature was cool but Dance needed that. Cleansing. So too was the noise of seals barking and of waves colliding with rock. The two sounds comical and comforting respectively.

It was then, with a thud in her belly, that she noticed something sitting on the Deck floor, near Jon Boling’s feet. A small bag. From By the Sea Jewelry in Carmel. She knew the place. Since Carmel was such a romantic getaway, the jewelry stores tended to specialize in engagement and wedding rings.

My God, she thought. Oh, my God.

The silence between them rolled up, thicker than the fog. And she realized that he’d been mulling something over. Of course, a rehearsed speech. Now he got to it.

“There’s something I want to say.” He smiled. “How’s that for verbal uselessness? Obviously if I wanted to say something I’d just say it. So. I will.”

Dance administered a sip of wine. No, a gulp. Then she told herself: Keep your wits, girl. Something big’s happening here. She set the glass down.

Boling inhaled, like a free diver about to test himself. “We were talking about getting up to Napa, with the kids.”

The coming weekend. A little vineyard touring, a little shopping. On-demand TV in the inn. Pizza.

“But I’m thinking we shouldn’t go.”

“No?”

So he had in mind a romantic getaway, just the two of them.

Then he was smiling. A different smile, though. A look in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.

“Kathryn—”

Okay. He never used her name. Or rarely.

“I’m going to be leaving.”

“Now? It’s not that late.”

“No, I mean moving.”

“You’re…”

“There’s a start-up in Seattle wants me. May be the new Microsoft. Oh, and how’s this? It’s a new tech company that’s actually making money.”

“Wait, Jon. Wait. I—”

“Please?” He was so even, so gentle, so reasonable.

“Sure. Sorry.” A smile and she fell silent.

“I’m not going to use the clichés people throw around at times like this. Even though—didn’t you say clichés are clichés because they’re true?”

A friend of hers, not she, but she didn’t respond.

“What we’ve had is wonderful. Your kids are the best. Okay, maybe those are clichés. But they are the best. You’re the best.”

She gave him infinite credit for not talking about the physical between them. That was wonderful and comfortable and fine, sometimes breathtaking. But that wasn’t a spoke of this discussion’s wheel.

“But, you know what? I’m not the guy for you.” He laughed his soothing laugh. “You do know what I’m talking about, right?”