I never asked when Mark finally left the gate.But he did not return to New York.Later, Elliot’s people told me he had rented an entire floor at the end of the street, close enough for his windows to overlook the road I used whenever I came and went.Every day, he handled Donovan business remotely. The rest of the time, he waited wherever I might appear.Flowers, jewelry, old books, music boxes.All things I had once mentioned in passing, all things he had never given me when I still wanted them.I accepted none of them, and I did not change my schedule for him.Work continued. Dinners continued. Life continued. Nine years of marriage had taught me one thing: never rearrange your life around a man’s emotions.At first, I thought the old Don had ordered him to stay and beg for my forgiveness, so I called New York myself.I told the old Don that I had a fiancé now, and a new life. I asked him not to make Mark waste more time in London.After a moment of silence, the old Don only said, “
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