She didn’t like drama and this day had way too much in every direction. She therefore left the door, went over to the shattered lamp, and began to pick up the pieces. When the doorbell rang, she froze. It felt almost like a premonition. As if she was expecting it all along. As if she knew, even though she didn’t know a damn thing. She moved away from the area of the lamp and walked over to her living room window. When she saw that the big Chevy Silverado was still on her driveway, her heart rammed against her chest. Because somehow she expected it. But that didn’t make it any easier. She moved slowly toward the door. And when she opened it, and saw that it was indeed John Malone standing there, she didn’t say a word, and neither did he. She simply pushed open the screen door, and let him back in. “Hey,” he said. “Hey,” she said. And then they just stood there. John’s heart was pounding as he stood in her living room. And when she walked away and went back to picking up the pieces of the broken lamp, as if she understood fully why he had come back, he began moving around the room. He picked up a book off of the coffee table and glanced at the writing on its spine. Stared briefly at an African print on her wall. But it was all camouflage and he knew it. Because it was Shay Turner that he wanted, and nothing less was going to do. So he kept moving until he made his way to the dining area where she was just reaching for the base of the lamp. He stood behind her, and removed the base from her hand, sitting it on the dining room table. There was such a sense of inevitability about this moment that it stumped them both. And electrified them both.
