She looked exhausted.
Not frightened.
Mostly embarrassed.
When I approached, she stood and hugged me.
“I feel like an idiot.”
“That word is banned until after coffee.”
She almost smiled.
We ordered breakfast.
Then she told me everything again, this time in detail.
What bothered her most wasn’t that Malcolm liked her.
She liked him too.
It was the speed.
The assumptions.
The way every boundary she tried to set became a problem Malcolm thought he could solve.
When she said she wanted her own hotel room, he told her she was sabotaging the relationship.
When she said she needed time alone, he suggested she was emotionally unavailable because of grief.
When she said she wasn’t ready to discuss selling her house, he told her maintaining a large home was financially irresponsible.
“He made everything sound reasonable,” Diane said.
“That doesn’t mean it was reasonable for you.”
