It was directional.
Inside the car, the doors closed and silence fell with them.
The vehicle moved away from the church.
I sat on one side of the leather seat. Niko sat on the other. Between us lay several feet of polished wood, shadow, and all the things neither of us intended to say.
He removed his gloves finger by finger.
I watched his hands because looking at his face felt too direct.
There was a pale scar along the base of his right thumb. His nails were clean and short. He wore no ring except the one I had just given him.
“You missed an examination for this,” he said.
I looked up.
“How do you know?”
“I know a great deal about the woman I married.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It was not intended as one.”
“Does intention matter?”
His eyes settled on me.
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly to be casual.
