“About . . . ?”

“About it. You know, the elephant in the room.”

“The elephant?”

“The one that we trip over, squeeze around and try to pretend isn’t there.”

Ross didn’t answer her right away, wondering where she was. “Why don’t I go first?”

She looked down at the floor for a moment; then her eyes leveled on him. Her face showed her weariness.

“I left America not knowing if I could ever love again. But I can. To me it’s a miracle. You’re a miracle. I think you are the most beautiful, kind and loving woman I have ever met. You’re all I think about.”

She closed her eyes.

“You have become my meridian, Eliana. I measure my time by when I’m with you or when I was last with you or when I will be with you again. I love you more than anyone or anything in this world. And I want you. That I am sure of.”

He looked at her carefully, hoping his words would evoke some response. Her eyes did not open immediately, and when they did they were only more wet. She tried to respond, but was overcome by emotion. Then she tried and failed a second time. Only in looking away from him could she speak. “But I’m married, Ross.”

Her words hung in the air.

“Eliana, this isn’t news.”

She raised her hand to her eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t lie in bed every night thinking about you, wishing you were with me. It’s wrong. I try to tell myself that it’s not, but I’m lying. I made a promise to love and honor and obey Maurizio for better or for worse.”

Ross’s throat felt dry. “Maurizio doesn’t deserve you.”

“It’s not about Maurizio,” she said forcefully, then, in a weaker voice, “and it’s not about you.”

“Then who is it about?”

“It’s about God. It’s about promises I’ve made. I’m such a hypocrite. A couple weeks ago I told you how Maurizio cheats on me and how awful it is; then the next thing I know I’m kissing you.” She looked at him with love in her eyes. “Ross, you make me feel beautiful and alive, and so loved, but then there’s this guilt that paints gray over everything. I try to pretend it isn’t there, I try to rationalize my behavior, but the truth is I am tired of feeling guilty and bad all the time. I feel like I’m spending all my energy rationalizing my actions. I keep telling myself this is the last time I’ll do this, the last time I’ll hold your hand, or want you . . . then I see you and it all goes out the window. I can’t stop myself from being with you . . .”

Neither spoke for several minutes. Ross looked up. His forehead was wrinkled; his voice came low and deliberate. “Are you saying that you want me to leave?”

“Ross, this has nothing to do with what I want. What I want is to be with you. I’m just afraid of where this is leading.”