Impossible (34 page)

He looked at her for a moment before she got out. “Thank you for a fantastic opening.” He hesitated, and touched her hand. “I'm leaving for Vermont on Friday.” He didn't know how long she'd be in town. “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow, Sasha? To thank you for tonight, and for old times' sake?” She didn't even know if he had a girlfriend at the moment. She believed he honestly wanted to take her out as a friend.

“I'm not sure that's such a great idea. We always get in trouble when we do that,” she said honestly, and he laughed.

“You can trust me. I'll behave. I promise.”

“The one I don't trust is me.” She was being frank with him, she always was, and had been, right from the first.

“Now there's an appealing thought. “Emerging artist ravished by art dealer, sues for sexual harrassment.' I trust you, and if you make a pass at me, I'll yell rape. Why don't we give it a try?” He took the tension out of his invitation, and she nodded. She loved being with him, and talking to him.

“I'll try to control myself,” she said with an impish grin. He was dying to kiss her goodnight, but didn't. He didn't want to spoil anything between them now, and he could see that she was scared. So was he.

“I'll pick you up at the gallery at six. I want to come in and admire my work, especially now that it's all sold.” She laughed, got out, and waved as she walked into her building. He waved back as the cab pulled away.

She let herself into the silent apartment, thinking of when he had been there with her. The place felt like it was full of ghosts now. Arthur. Liam. Even the children were gone. The reality of her life now was that she was alone. Probably forever. The one thing she couldn't let herself do, she reminded herself, as she took off her coat, was let herself fall for Liam again, no matter how tempting and charming he was. They had proven it was impossible twice. They didn't need to do it again.

Chapter 19

Liam came to pick her up
at the gallery, promptly at six as he had promised. He glanced at his paintings as they left. It was an odd feeling knowing he wouldn't see them again. It was like having put his children up for adoption. He had given birth to them, and now he had to let them go. He felt nostalgic as they rode downtown in the cab. He had made a reservation for them at Da Silvano. They had gone there often in July. It was a popular Italian restaurant downtown, with waiters who sang when they felt like it, and the food was good.

They talked about art, as usual, people they knew, friends of his she'd met, her children and his. He said Tom was doing well in college, and the others were fine, too. Eventually, he talked about Beth. He admitted that it was a weird feeling knowing she was getting remarried. Their divorce was going to be final by Christmas. She still hadn't forgiven him for Becky, and he knew she never would.

“I thought we could at least end up friends. Apparently, we can't even do that. At least you and I seem to have found our way back to friendship, that's something at least.” But they both knew there was always an undercurrent of something else with them. The attraction between them was too strong. Sasha was even worried about it that night, as they sat across the table from each other, eating pasta, and drinking cheap red wine.

They talked about their trip to Italy then. It had been magical for both of them. And then, without thinking, he glanced at her wrist, and saw the bracelet he had bought her. She still had it on. Even after it was over, she had never taken it off. She was embarrassed when she saw him notice it.

“That's silly of me. I get sentimental about things like that.”

“So do I,” he said, and didn't comment further.

“So what are you doing for Christmas, Liam?”

“I don't know. I'm going back to London after I see the kids. I'm just spending the weekend in Vermont. We're staying at a motel, the cabin at the lake isn't heated or insulated for winter.” She nodded, thinking about his children. She had never met them, and wished she had. Maybe she would one day. Maybe he'd bring them to the gallery to see one of his shows. It would be a year before he had the next one, maybe two years. She was going to do his next show in Paris. And after that, in New York again, the following year. As a dealer, she had great plans for him. As a woman, she had none. After all they'd been through, she knew better now. “What about you? Christmas in Paris?”

“I'm not sure. Tatianna is going away with friends this year. Xavier has a new girlfriend he wants to spend time with. I'm going to be here for a few weeks, I think. I'll probably be back in Paris by Christmas. I was thinking of letting Xavier bring his girlfriend. Time marches on.” She smiled, trying to be brave. But her heart still sank when she thought of Christmas, especially without Arthur, and now him.

They managed to get through the meal without hurting each other's feelings, or bringing up painful memories. They skirted around them carefully, like a minefield, and on the whole the evening was a success. He offered to ride uptown with her in the cab, and she said that was silly. He had to go downtown to Tribeca, which was only a short distance. She had to go all the way uptown to her apartment.

“I don't mind,” he insisted. But any way they did it, it was a bad deal for her. If he was only friendly, she knew she'd feel rejected. And if he reached out to her again as a woman, she knew they'd both regret it. It was time to let it go.

She gave him a hug and kissed his cheek, thanked him for dinner, and got into the cab alone. Feeling stupid about it, she cried all the way home. She reminded herself that no matter how appealing some things seemed, they just weren't meant to be. And this was one of them. She'd been lucky to have him at all. They were a blessing in each other's lives for a short time. In truth, end to end, they had only spent five months together. It was nothing in the course of a lifetime, and certainly didn't compare to her twenty-five years with Arthur. Her love affair with Liam had been short and sweet, exciting and passionate, full of thunder and lightning. For the long haul, she knew, one needed something simpler, easier, quieter, and more solid. There was nothing easy or quiet about Liam. Or maybe even about her.

She turned the lights on when she got home, put on her nightgown, brushed her teeth, and went to bed. She had just turned off the light when the buzzer rang. It was the doorman downstairs. She couldn't imagine why he was calling, and she got out of bed to answer it. He said she had a guest.

“No, I don't. I'm not expecting anyone,” she said, looking distracted. “Who is it?” He handed the guest the phone.

“It's me,” he said, sounding foolish. “May I come up?” It was Liam.

“No!” she nearly shouted into the phone. “You can't. I'm in bed. What are you doing here?” It was a stupid thing to do, and she was almost mad at him. She did not want to be tempted, although in fact she did. But she wouldn't allow him to do that to her. Not again.

“I want to talk to you,” he said quietly, aware that the doorman was listening. It was a new one he didn't know.

“I don't want to talk to you. Call me in the morning.”

“I'll be right up,” he said with a smile at the doorman, and hung up the phone. He headed for the elevator without hesitating, and it was obvious he knew the way. The doorman didn't stop him as Liam waved his thanks. Two minutes later, he rang her bell. She heard it and didn't answer. She didn't have the heart to have the doorman come up and throw him out, but she could have, and she told him that through the door.

“Go away!”

“I'm not leaving,” he said calmly.

“I won't open the door.”

“Fine. We can talk like this. I'm sure your neighbors will be fascinated,” he said, completely unconcerned, while she leaned against the door, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes.

“Don't do this, Liam. We have nothing to say.”

“Speak for yourself. I have a lot to say.” He started singing then and she knew her neighbors would go nuts and complain. She had no choice but to open the door. She did, and gave him an ominous look.

“If you touch me, I'm calling the police and charging you with rape.”

“Perfect. It will enhance my reputation immeasurably. If you touch me, I'll tell them you raped me.”

“Don't worry. I won't.” He breezed in past her as though he were still staying there, and she followed him in her nightgown. He walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer.

“Perfect. Rocky Road.” He looked delighted and took the container out of the freezer, helped himself to a bowl, and scooped out an enormous portion, after offering some to her. She shook her head, and looked like she was about to hit him. She would have if she'd dared. He looked completely unconcerned as he sat down. He had tossed his coat on a chair in the hall, and was still wearing the heavy sweater and black slacks he'd worn at dinner. And socks. It was cold outside. Even he wore socks in winter. But he was still Liam. Irrepressible and uncontrollable. Her favorite wacky artist.

“Don't eat that. It must have freezer burn. It's been here since you left.”

“I don't mind,” he said, eating the ice cream, and glancing at her.

“So what do you want to say?” She was still looking fierce, and he smiled.

“I wanted to say that I love you. I thought you should know.”

“I love you, too. That doesn't make any difference. We drove each other nuts. I hurt your feelings. You broke my heart. You walked out. It's impossible. We know that. We don't need to prove it again. We've done that twice. That's more than enough for me.” It had been four months, and she still wasn't over him. If he left again, it would take even longer to get over him. Losing him twice had been bad enough. She wasn't going to try again, no matter how irresistible he was. She was going to listen to her head this time, not her heart. Her heart had gotten her into trouble with him before. Every time.

“Third time's the charm,” he said, as he finished the ice cream, washed out the bowl, and put it in the dishwasher. “Look how well trained I am. Why waste that on someone else?”

“You just look trained. You're one of those big sloppy dogs that wag their tail, fetch, and play ball. But you're not housebroken, and I know it.”

“Neither are you. We deserve each other,” he said confidently.

“I am too. I am extremely civilized. In every way.” She drew herself up to her full height to look daunting, and failed abysmally. Liam wasn't impressed, or daunted. He was in love with her, not afraid of her.

“Yes, you are civilized, I'll admit. But you're also the most stubborn woman I know.”

“Have you been taking a survey?” she asked, looking suspicious. “Xavier said he ran into you with some young girl, younger than Tati.”

“There have been a lot of young girls since I was stupid enough to leave you. They bore me to tears. Sasha, I don't know what you did to me when we met, but I can't live without you. I want to come back. I love you. I promise I'll be good this time.”

“You were good last time,” she said, looking at him sadly. “You were fantastic. I was happy with you. I love you too. But I can't deal with your wacky artist bullshit. Every time I expect you to be respectable, you think I'm trying to control you. Your feelings get hurt if you feel criticized in any way, and you think I'm ostracizing you like your father. I'm not, but I can't always do everything you want. And for you, that means Hiroshima every time it happens. Whenever you get insulted, you walk out.”

“I felt left out,” he explained, as though that made a difference. But the end result was still that he had ended it, and left. And it was now four months later. Too late for her, or so she wanted him to believe.

“I know you felt left out. I've had a shit time without you. But I didn't want to lose my daughter forever because I sided with you. It was too soon.”

“I understand that now. It took me a while to get it, but I do.” He was sitting at the kitchen table as though waiting to sign a contract with her.

“What do you want from me, Liam?” she asked, looking frightened and frustrated. “You make me insane.”

“We are insane. Both of us. Insanely in love with each other. Maybe it's a sickness. I don't know. Maybe we should get treatment for it. All I know is that every time I see you, I know I can't live without you. And don't tell me you don't feel the same thing. I know you do. You're just politer than I am, and more adult, or something like that. I wanted to crawl right into that cab with you tonight, but you didn't invite me, so I got my own and came up here to see you. You could at least have invited me to come back here for a drink,” he said, sounding insulted, but he wasn't. He was teasing her, and she knew it. “I offered to bring you home, and I meant it.”

“And then what? We do something stupid? And what happens after that? We have a great month, or two or three, and then you walk out on me again the next time I hurt your feelings. Liam, I won't do it.”

“Well, I'm not leaving till you say you will. I want to spend Christmas with you. Actually, I want to spend my life with you. I need you. You're the only woman in the world who understands me, and actually cares about me, and takes care of me.”

“I don't want to be your mother, Liam,” she said sternly, “no matter how old I am.”

“All men want to be mothered. It's the nature of the beast.” Someone else had told her that, and she couldn't remember who. She was trying to think, but it didn't matter. What he was saying was crazy, no matter how beautiful and appealing he was, or how sexy. “I like that you're older than I am. You make more sense than I do.”

“That's because you don't want to grow up.”

“You can be grown up for both of us. I give you permission.” He looked as though he thought he had solved the problem, but he hadn't, for her at least.

“You have to be a grown-up, too.”

“I hate that part,” he said, snapping his fingers.

“Can't I be a wacky artist till I'm eighty? By then, you can just tell people I'm senile.”

“You can be a wacky artist now, just not all the time.” Although he hadn't been all the time before, either. Just selectively, like at the barbecue, where he had been flat-out outrageous, not just wacky. No one would ever forget it, and certainly not she. “It doesn't matter what we agree to, Liam. It still won't work. It just won't. It didn't. It really is impossible.”