A Camden's Baby Secret (11 page)

“But no arcade or fright-night?” she joked, as if she was disappointed.

“Well, we
could
do either one of those. But it seems like a nice dinner says thank-you better...”

A thank-you dinner, not a date.

Once Livi convinced herself that that distinction existed, she considered the invitation. It didn't take long.

“I don't have any other plans,” she said. “But nothing fancy.” Because fancy would seem like a date.

“Sushi?”

The obstetrician had said no raw fish.

“I like sushi, but I'm not in the mood...”

“There's a good Mexican food place in LoDo?”

Not living far from there, Livi was familiar with the lower downtown historic district referred to as LoDo. “I'm a fan of Mexican food.”

“Then Tamayo it is. Why don't I follow you to your place to leave your car?”

Callan was in tan slacks and a red-and-cream-colored sport shirt that were nice enough for the restaurant. Indian summer temperatures had allowed for black pants and a lightweight white sweater set for Livi—and she knew that was dressy enough for that particular restaurant, too. Which meant she didn't need to change, either, and could have offered to just meet him there.

But the thought of not fighting traffic or parking was appealing, and she ended up agreeing to his suggestion.

It was nearly seven by the time they got to the restaurant. It was packed, but the hostess recognized Callan and they were seated at a secluded corner table right away.

Livi refused wine or any other liquor—again on obstetrician's orders—and insisted sparkling water was all she wanted, so Callan didn't drink, either. Then they studied the menu, made their choices and were left to share guacamole and tortilla chips.

“You must come here a lot for the hostess to know you,” Livi said then.

“I do. But I also went out with her—twice, I think.”

Livi couldn't help taking a second look at the other woman. She was taller than Livi, model-skinny, with coal-black hair, pale skin and dramatic makeup. Pretty but severe.

And as with Kinsey, Livi didn't like the idea of Callan with someone else, even though she knew it shouldn't matter to her.

“She doesn't seem to have any hard feelings,” she observed.

“She turned me down for what would have been the third date. Or maybe the fourth, I'm not really sure. It was right after my divorce, but there were weeks in between our dates—”

“Because you were working,” Livi guessed.

“Yep. And even those dates never happened when they were supposed to. They were rescheduled a couple times each because I got busy. So the last time I had my secretary call her—”

“Your secretary makes your dates for you?”

“She didn't make the first one—that happened one night when I came in here late and Dray just sort of joined me.”

“So, like your ex-wife who scheduled herself into your free time, this one did the pursuing, too?”

“There wasn't much pursuit. I think she was just bored and I was alone and sitting at the table nearest to the hostess station, so she struck up a conversation and it went from there. But it didn't go very far. When my secretary called her again, she said no. There had been too much time between dates and she'd met someone else.”

And he didn't seem to care about that. Which made Livi feel better on the one hand. But on the other hand, it was another relationship—however brief—that he'd let fizzle through neglect, and she couldn't help noting that.

“Greta surprised me today,” Callan said then. “I thought she'd be afraid or worried about starting a new school, so she'd hang back. But she jumped right in, didn't she?”

“She did. But she's outgoing and that's good for her. Believe me. I was just the opposite and it was miserable.”

“You were shy and withdrawn?” he asked, sounding surprised.

Which of course he would be, she realized. Not only because of Hawaii, but because she did feel comfortable enough with him for her shy side not to show.

“I was
horribly
shy and withdrawn as a kid,” she said, omitting how often that was still the case. “When I was Greta's age, if I'd had to change schools, I would have been a mess. I wouldn't have even been able to think of something to say to those two girls Greta made instant friends with, and I would
not
have had the courage to go to that sleepover tonight. I was a mouse.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding. In fact, that's what some mean kids used to call me—Mouse—because I was so timid. I was actually miserable in school until the sixth grade.”

“What happened in the sixth grade?” Callan asked.

He seemed genuinely interested. The way he always did when they were together. His attentiveness didn't seem in keeping with someone who often disregarded relationships.

But in spite of seeing that, appreciating it, she had a bigger issue on her mind—telling him about Patrick.

There wasn't a reason not to, though. So she said, “In sixth grade, I met my husband.”

Callan laughed. “Was it some kind of arranged thing? A joining of two powerful families through the marriage of their kids?”

Their tortilla soups arrived and after the waiter had left again, Livi said, “No, Patrick just moved here from North Carolina with his family and joined the class.”

“And changed your world?” Callan said, still with some doubt in his voice.

“Kind of. I'd been in school with the same kids since preschool—a private school that was also near GiGi, so that didn't change when we went to live with her. My siblings and my cousins were my only friends, and everyone else in school either overlooked me altogether because I was so quiet, or teased me unmercifully. Then Patrick came in—”

“That's your husband's name—Patrick?”

“It was.”

Callan paused in eating his soup and looked at her. “It
was
his name? He changed it? I mean, I've been assuming you're divorced...”

Livi shook her head. “I said I wasn't married anymore, I didn't say I was divorced. Patrick passed away.”

And while her voice cracked just slightly when she said that, for the first time she managed to get the words out without tearing up.

Callan's surprise showed in his expression. “I didn't think that... At our age you just automatically go to divorce. Car accident?”

Livi shook her head again. “Four years ago—a month after our fifth anniversary—Patrick was playing basketball with my brothers and cousins. And then he just dropped—died on the spot of an undiagnosed brain aneurysm.”

Callan's eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

She hadn't had to tell this story in a long while and was pleasantly surprised to discover herself able to do it less emotionally than she ever had before.

Whether because Callan was easy to talk to or because of that comfort level she'd realized she had with him, it was a relief not to have to relive the agony the way she had in the past.

Not that she didn't still feel the sadness, the underlying grief, but to be able to talk about it without breaking down was a big step for her.

“Geez, Livi, I'm sorry. That must have been a shock,” Callan said gently.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered with a small, mirthless laugh. “To say the least. We'd been together almost since the first day he walked into my sixth-grade classroom. There was never any sign that he wasn't healthy as a horse and—” she took a deep breath “—I never doubted that we'd be together forever, that we'd grow old together.”

There was a moment of silence—some of it taken up by their waiter replenishing their water. Then Callan backed the conversation up. “So Patrick came into your sixth-grade class and everything changed for you?”

“Patrick was...” She shook her head and chuckled briefly. “Even as a kid he was personable. He was a cutup who made everyone laugh. Everybody loved him. He fit in everywhere he went. I never met anyone who
didn't
like him—”

“And he liked the quiet little girl in the corner.”

That was a nice way to put it. “He did. Don't ask me why he even noticed me, but he did.”

“And tell me he beat up the mean kids who called you Mouse, so they left you alone.”

That made her laugh again. “He defended me, but he was a little guy—shorter than I was in sixth grade and not tall or bulky even after puberty—so he didn't get into fights. He actually would just head off the mean teasing by joking around with the bullies. What he did for me was more along the lines of drawing me
out
of the corner by bolstering my confidence and getting me to participate. Eventually I lived down the nickname.”

“He showed everyone that you were smart and funny and amazing yourself, even if you were hiding it?”

Was that what Callan thought of her?

It felt good to think he might.

“Patrick just helped bring me out of my shell and that changed things.”

“So you married him—when? Seventh? Eighth grade?” Callan joked as his chipotle-rubbed pork chops and her carnitas were served.

“I might as well have.”

“Come on... Really?” he said, as if he thought she had to be exaggerating.

“Really. Puppy love through sixth and into seventh grade. After that, when our friends were starting to have boyfriends or girlfriends, we officially became that—a couple. And we were a couple to the end.”

Callan's eyebrows rose again.

“I know, it sounds kind of weird,” Livi said, seeing his astonishment. “But once we were together that was just
it
for us. It sounds corny, but we really were two halves that made a whole, and even though we discovered each other as kids, we both believed it was just meant to be.”

“The soul-mate thing?” He sounded skeptical.

But Livi said definitively, “Yes. I felt it. Patrick felt it. He was my one-and-only, and I was his.”

“And that's all she wrote? You were
together
from the sixth grade on? There wasn't even any on-again, off-again?”

“None. Through grade school and college.”

“You went to the same one?”

“Oh, yeah, so we could stay together. There was never a question about that. We got married the week after we graduated, and Patrick went to law school at Denver University while I took my place at Camden Incorporated.”

“He was a lawyer?”

“He passed the bar the first time,” she said with pride.

Callan was looking at her as if seeing something he hadn't witnessed before. “So it was a real love story,” he marveled.

“Kind of like your friendship with Greta's mom and dad. Or their relationship with each other.”

He laughed. “I never thought of a friendship as a love story, but I guess I can see the similarities. But when it comes to Mandy and J.J., they didn't get together until after they'd both done the kind of dating around that everyone did. It wasn't love from the sixth grade on. And that two-halves-of-a-whole thing? That one-and-only stuff? I'm not sure even Mandy or J.J. thought of each other that way. I mean, they were great together, but...” He shook his head. “I don't know about
that
.”

The waiter came to take their plates and Callan enticed Livi into sharing a dessert.

Once they were alone again, he said, “Since Mandy and J.J. died I've felt kind of like I've lost my safety net or something. But you...you must have felt like you lost a limb.”

“I think I kind of felt like I lost all four,” she said. “I don't remember much of the first year—I was just a zombie so it's a blur. And it's been a slow climb since then.”

“But you're okay now?”

“I think I am. It's been a long road and grief still dances me around the room every once in a while, but that's pretty rare. All in all, I'm back to myself.”

“And dating and...” He frowned as something seemed to occur to him. “Hawaii wasn't your first...
date
...since your husband?” he said, as if it couldn't possibly be true.

Their dessert came before she had to answer him.

It was a flourless brownie topped with chocolate ice cream and a layer of salted caramel, glazed with white chocolate before a blood-orange reduction was drizzled over it all. And remembering that he hadn't opted for a chocolate doughnut the night before, she appreciated that he'd recalled her love for chocolate and ordered with that in mind.

Livi took a spoonful from her side of the confection and oohed and aahed over it while he continued watching her.

She was afraid he was waiting to have his question answered, and encouraged him to dig in, hoping to distract him.

It failed.

“Come on,” he said. “Was Hawaii a first for you?”

“I thought we were forgetting about Hawaii?” she hedged, uncomfortable talking about it.

“So that's a yes—it was,” he answered, as if he'd read it on her face.

“Patrick was a very tough act to follow,” she said quietly.

And yet Callan had...

For some reason, that was the first time she'd attributed what had happened in Hawaii to him and not to the liquor or the setting or the anniversary insanity.

But she didn't want to think too much about that, so she didn't.

She merely said, “You don't go from what Patrick and I had, from what he was to me, and just dive in to...well, to just anything. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to...
date
. Then Hawaii—” she shrugged “—just happened.”

So naturally...

Livi took refuge in her second bite of chocolate.

“I don't know whether to be honored or...not,” Callan said, frowning again.

He finally tried their dessert. Livi had the impression that he was using it to buy himself a little time to think. To consider if he did or didn't like the position he'd now found himself in.