The temptation to ignore the previous night was great. But Madeleine didn’t want to set a bad precedent. The weight of marriage pressed down on her for the first time. She couldn’t just throw a book at Leonard and leave, as she’d done in the past.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“O.K.,” Leonard said. “How about over breakfast?”

“No. Now.”

“O.K.,” he said again, somewhat softer. He looked around the room for a place to sit, but there was none, so he remained standing.

“You were so mean to me yesterday,” Madeleine said. “First you got mad when I ordered for you. Then you acted like I wasn’t even there at dinner. You kept flirting with the waitress—”

“I wasn’t flirting with the waitress.”

“Yes, you were! You were flirting with her. And then, we came back here and you—you—you just used me like I was a piece of meat!” Saying this made her burst into tears again. Her voice had gone all squeaky and girly in a way she hated but couldn’t help. “You acted like you were … with that waitress!”

“I don’t want to be with the waitress, Madeleine. I want to be with you. I love you. I love you so much.”

These were exactly the words Madeleine wanted to hear. Her intelligence told her to distrust them, but another, weaker part of her responded with happiness.

“You can never treat me that way again,” she said, still hiccuping with sobs.

“I won’t. I never will.”

“If you ever do, that’s the end.”

He put his arms around her, pressing his face into her hair. “It’s never going to happen again,” he whispered. “I love you. I’m sorry.”