Impossible (20 page)

She arrived promptly at one to have lunch with her son, at the restaurant he had suggested, and as she walked out into the garden where he was waiting for her, she was shocked to see he had brought Liam. It was small comfort to see that he looked as uncomfortable as she did. Apparently, she learned later, Liam had been in Xavier's studio all morning, and her son couldn't think of a plausible excuse not to bring him, since Sasha was his dealer. He liked Liam, although Xavier was sorry to miss some time alone with his mother. He loved talking to her.

“Hello, Liam,” she said cautiously, as he stood up to greet her. Being obliged to have lunch with him felt like a nightmare to Sasha. It was the first time she'd seen him since he stormed out of her house in Paris. As usual, he was wearing one of his eccentric but sexy outfits. A T-shirt, a leather jacket, baseball cap, and this time paint-splattered pants and high-top red sneakers. But despite her irritation with him, she had to admit, as always, he looked incredibly handsome. And his blond ponytail was two months longer.

“How've you been, Sasha?” he finally turned to her and asked, sounding awkward. Until then, Xavier had been carrying the bulk of the conversation, and he was surprised to notice some sort of strain between them. He had gotten the impression before that they were on good terms and very friendly. Although he suddenly realized that Liam hadn't mentioned her lately.

“Have you two had some sort of artistic difference of opinion?” Xavier finally asked with a look of amusement. He knew them both well, and that they had strong opinions. The atmosphere between them was tangibly stressed. You could cut it with the proverbial knife.

“Yes,” Liam said, looking angry and unhappy.

“Not at all,” Sasha said politely at exactly the same moment.

“Well, which is it, yes or no?” Xavier asked them. He was laughing, as Liam squirmed in his seat, and his mother looked icy.

“She wouldn't take me to a party in Paris, when I was staying with her. I thought that was pretty rude, since I was her houseguest.” That was one way to explain it, Sasha observed. The last thing she wanted was for Xavier to get caught in the middle, particularly since he only knew half the story and she didn't intend to fill him in on the rest. She was pleased to see that Liam had obviously not shared his story of their brief affair with him, since Xavier appeared to know nothing about what had happened. He was completely in the dark.

“What were you wearing when she wouldn't take you to the party?” Xavier asked comfortably, as dealer and artist, previously lovers, glared at each other. It was obvious that Liam was still furious with her.

“I don't know…the usual stuff… what difference does it make?” Liam growled at him, while Sasha watched them both in silence.

“A big difference, at the kind of parties she goes to. If you want my guess, that's why she didn't take you.” Xavier spoke as though his mother weren't present. Sasha said nothing. “She won't take me either. The people she knows are incredibly stuffy and pretty boring. Sorry, Mom.” He glanced over at Sasha apologetically, and she nodded. She had said the same thing to Liam right from the beginning.

“That was what I told him,” Sasha interjected. “I told him he couldn't do his wacky artist thing with those kinds of people. And he told me I couldn't control him.”

“You probably can't,” Xavier said sensibly, and then looked at Liam. “What's with the wacky artist thing? If you want to do that, why would you want to go to those parties? Personally, I'd pay her money not to take me. I hate them.”

“So do I. I just don't want to be left home like a four-year-old, or be told how to behave when I get there.”

“What difference does it make if she takes you? You're one of her artists, Liam. Not her husband. My father didn't love going to them either. He said most of her important clients bored him to tears. He got out of going to those parties every chance he got.” Sasha smiled at the comment and Liam looked pensive. “You sound like a jealous lover,” Xavier chided, still not understanding what had happened, for which Sasha was profoundly grateful.

“Or a spoiled brat,” Sasha added. “I told him you can't behave like a goofball if you go to those parties. He informed me that he'd behave any way he wanted. End of story.” End of romance. But thank God Xavier didn't know that. From what Liam was saying, Sasha was amazed her son didn't suspect it. It had never occurred to him for a single second that his friend might have slept with his mother. She turned to Liam then, and reminded him of what she'd said two months earlier. “Anytime you want to dress and act like a grown-up, you're welcome to come to anything with me. In the meantime …” Her voice drifted off, and Liam rolled his eyes.

“You sound like my father.” He looked angry at her again, which surprised Xavier. His mother was right. Liam was being childish and bratty, and he didn't always side with his mother, but this time he felt he had to.

“You were a kid then,” Xavier reminded him. “You're an adult now. You just turned forty. Hell, that's fucking ancient …” And then he glanced at Sasha. “Sorry, Mother.”

“Not at all. It's not fucking ancient, but it's old enough not to have a tantrum about a party.”

“My father and brothers never took me anywhere. My father called me a freak, and my brothers said I was a weirdo. I was always an outcast. That's why I left San Francisco. I just got tired of it. I'm never going to let anyone treat me that way again.”

“You probably were a weirdo,” Xavier said with a look of amusement. Watching Liam, and the look in his eyes, Sasha felt suddenly more sympathetic. She had obviously tapped into some serious wounds from his childhood. And he had had no mother to protect or defend him from his father and brothers' insensitivity and cruelty. Looking at him, she suddenly wanted to put her arms around him, but she couldn't. “You still are a weirdo sometimes,” Xavier said, and Liam smiled. “Hell, what do you expect? You're an artist. I'm weird, too. It's a sign of greatness and talent. I like being a weirdo, so do you. And you couldn't get me to one of those parties if you paid me.”

“I just felt left out, I guess. It was like the old days when I was a kid. I guess it hit a nerve. I was being told I couldn't go somewhere unless I acted like someone I wasn't. Maybe it was old tapes in my head that made me crazy, and not your mother.” Liam glanced at Sasha anxiously, and wanted to apologize to her, but he couldn't. Their eyes met and held for a long moment. And miraculously, Xavier missed it.

“Shit, man, you were only a houseguest. She probably couldn't take you to the party anyway.”

“No, I couldn't,” Sasha added. “The argument was more about theory, and freedom of behavior.”

“And control,” Liam added. “When people insult me like that, it just makes me crazy. I was always left out as a kid, like I wasn't related to them or something, or good enough to be one of them. They were always trying to control me and make me behave the way they wanted, and I just couldn't.” It went even deeper than that, Sasha realized. It was about having lost the protection and unconditional love of his mother at seven. That's who she had been dealing with that night, a seven-year-old boy who had lost his mother. It suddenly explained a lot of things to her, and the immature behavior she'd seen in Paris. Her heart went out to him as she sat there listening to him.

“All right, are we all on the same page now?” Xavier turned to Liam. “You obviously had some kind of psychotic break, or déjà vu or something. My mother goes to parties given by the most boring people on the planet, that no one in their right mind wants to go to. And you're a wacky artist, and shouldn't go to places like that, with people like she knows. My mother's fine, the people she hangs out with aren't. People like us need to hang out with each other. Not people like she knows or sells to, or it'll stifle our talent. Just hang out with me, and forget her fancy bullshit. Believe me, you'd hate it. Now, can we all relax and have lunch? I'm going to the bathroom. You two kiss and make up so she sells your paintings and isn't pissed at you, and when I come back, we'll all have a nice time, like we did last time. Right, children?” They both smiled at him. Xavier had broken the deadlock they couldn't for two months, even if he didn't know the whole story. “Thank you.” He got up and left them, and disappeared into the men's room, while Liam looked at her. He still loved her, and thanks to Xavier he was no longer angry at her. Now that he thought about it, it hadn't really been about her. It had been ancient history that had more to do with his father and brothers than with Sasha. She had hit a hot spot for him, and pushed all his buttons. So much so that he had been unable to listen to reason, until Xavier translated it for both of them two months later.

“I'm sorry, Sasha,” Liam said softly. “I missed you so damn much. You're the most stubborn woman on the planet. You never called me.”

“You never called me, either. And I missed you, too. I'm so sorry. I never really understood what it meant to you or why. Now I do. I didn't mean to hurt you.” She reached out and touched his hand as she said it.

“You didn't. They did. I got you confused with them for a minute.” A long minute. It had been more than two months since he left Paris. “Let's get together for a drink before you leave London.” She nodded, just as Xavier came back to the table.

“Everybody happy again?”

“Very.” Sasha beamed at him. “You're an excellent mediator. I should use your services more often.” She saw when she turned to look at him that Liam was smiling at her.

They ordered lunch, and both men talked about their work, while Sasha listened. She was never happier than when talking to artists, particularly these two. After lunch, they went to Liam's studio and looked at his recent paintings. They were even better than his last ones. She beamed at him when she saw them.

“My God, Liam, they're fantastic.” She could tell that he'd been digging deep into his soul to come up with what she saw on canvas.

“You do good work when you're pissed off,” Xavier commented with amusement.

“Sometimes,” Liam said, looking sad, and Sasha saw it. She squeezed his hand as she brushed past him. “I was only pissed off in the beginning. After that, I was miserable. Actually, that's when I do my best work. I hate that that's true, but it always is,” he said, looking exhausted, as he stared at his canvasses. He had had a lonely two months without her.

“That's true for me too,” Xavier admitted.

“I wish I could say I'd been as productive,” Sasha added. The last two months had been painful for her without him. She wished she could spend time alone with him now, but she had to see another artist. She was glad she had seen Liam's work though. And maybe now it would be better for both of them, if she was only his dealer. Their brief affair had obviously been a disaster. But thanks to Xavier, at least the war between them was over.

“What are you both doing tonight?” Liam asked, as Sasha left them. She was obviously in a hurry.

“I'm busy,” Sasha said quickly, and Xavier said he had a date.

“One of your boring parties?” Liam asked her with a look of amusement.

“No, a quiet dinner with a potential client.” Although she didn't owe him any explanations. The war was over, but so was their romance. With luck, they'd be friends now.

“What about tomorrow?” Liam wanted to see her again before she left for Paris, and it was more comfortable for both of them now with Xavier present.

“I'm free,” Xavier chimed in.

“Me too,” Sasha said, although she had wanted time alone with her son. It would be different if Liam joined them.

He suggested dinner at his favorite pub, Xavier agreed readily, and Sasha more reluctantly, but after all he had said at lunch, she didn't want to be rude to Liam. She could have breakfast alone with Xavier the next morning, before she went back to Paris.

Sasha agreed to pick them both up the following night with her car and driver, although being in a noisy pub was not how she liked to spend her evenings. She was doing it for both of them, and maybe a little more for Liam. She felt loving and protective of him when she left.

She was busy for the rest of the afternoon, did some errands on New Bond Street before she went back to the hotel, and had just enough time to change before Phillip picked her up for dinner. She was brushing her hair and sweeping it into the bun she always wore, when Liam called her.

“I'm glad we met today,” Liam said sadly. “Xavier did us both a big favor. Or me anyway. I'm really sorry I got so crazy in Paris.”

“That's okay,” Sasha said, holding her hair up with one hand, and the phone with the other. “Those things happen. I really felt badly about it today when you explained it.” He had told her about his father before, but somehow she hadn't made the connection. What Liam needed more than anything was a mother. But she didn't really want to be one to him. She had her own children. Maybe he needed mothering more than romance. But with the difference in their ages, it made her feel even older. Maybe as his dealer, and not his lover, she could give him more of what he needed from her.

Most of her artists needed mothers, and expected her to be one. Part of her role with them was nurturing them. She didn't mind doing that, at least with Liam. Maybe it would help him. Not that there was anything in it for her now, except her commission on his paintings. She was still attracted to him, and she still felt the same electrical charge when she looked at him, but what she felt for him now was different. Her feelings for him had gone underground, and in some ways seemed deeper. She loved him, but she was able to look at him now without wanting to tear his clothes off. She had sublimated what she felt for the past two months, and what she felt for him now more than anything was compassion. It was better, and healthier for her, than the insanity she had felt for him earlier that winter when they first met. Although she missed what they had shared. It was as though her feelings for him had matured and been transformed somehow since the last time she'd seen him. She was content to be his dealer and friend, and nothing else.

“Are you happy?” he asked her, and she smiled at the question.