“Loved? How long ago did the marriage end?”
“Two days ago it was ten years. Your turn. Why do you think you are not married?”
Bec pushed her plate away and turned to him. All the color drained from her face and she kept pursing her lips between her teeth.
“My husband died eighteen months ago. I still wear his ring because I don’t know how to remove it - not that I expect you to understand. I’m moving to Australia because I lost my career while taking care of him, and a woman heard me talk at a conference and offered me a job. My luggage is everything I still own. I sold everything else to pay the medical and funeral bills.”
Bec wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t expect you to understand. I want to move on, I want to start living again. I’m hoping it will be easier in a country where I don’t know anyone and I’m not expecting him to walk into a room.”
Geoffrey finished his meal and handed their trays to the hostess. Once Bec started crying, he couldn’t face her eyes. The pain he recognized too closely echoed his own. The depth of the pain not only in living it day to day, but sharing her story with another person, equaled his own. The only thing he couldn’t relate to was the willingness to move on and start again.
Until now, he never wanted to share his own grief with another person. Perhaps, he thought, Bec would understand.