A/N I've edited this quite a bit since writing it, so it's more or less the same but hopefully makes a little more sense and runs a little smoother.
Enjoy!
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Seven years down the line they're still treading in circles.
First of all they have never been guided by emotion so much as convenience. He is very rich. She is very beautiful, and makes him seem kinder by association; she looks fabulous on his arm: he appreciates her in much the same way that she tolerates him. He has never been certain why she agreed to marry him.
On a rainy Wednesday she can be found dressing to go down to the local shelter, where she will arrange a donation. She is choosing each article of clothing with her usual care, while her husband changes in the next room.
"I made a reservation for seven o'clock," he calls. "You can make it, can't you?"
"Mm…" She winds a scarf around her neck, considering. "I suppose… I'll be in a conference till six thirty."
"Where?" He comes up behind her.
"Down the block from Chianti's, isn't that where you'll be?"
He smiles. "You know me well. Shall I pick you up?"
"Oh, I'll walk. The fresh air will spur my appetite." She tries to smile back, her lips a little tight. He doesn't notice.
"If it runs late give me a call, I can always get them to set it back half an hour."
"Thank you." She slips into a coat and kisses his cheek. "I'll see you this evening."
It's seven o'clock. Twelve hours from now they will be sitting across from each other, swilling their ice around their glasses, trying to find something to say. Not finding anything.