Authors: Amy Hatvany
“That’s okay,” she said. “Great to see you.”
“You too.” He paused. “You look beautiful, as usual.”
“Thanks,” she said automatically, though then she pressed her lips together and gave her head a quick shake. She knew he was being kind. She knew she’d lost too much weight to look healthy. Her hair was thinning and even though she was only thirty-three, new lines seemed to carve themselves into her face every day. Diane joked that this was the precise reason she refused to lose the extra twenty pounds she carried. “A little fat plumps out the skin,” she said. “Ben and Jerry’s instead of Botox.”
Kelli glanced at the back entrance of the Loft, then smiled at Spencer. “Can I follow you in, or should I use the front door?”
“Follow me,” he said, and they entered the restaurant together. As they walked down the narrow hallway that led into the kitchen, Kelli inhaled the rich aroma of sautéed onions and simmering broth. Victor had taught her to identify the subtle scents in a dish, the underlying earthy breath of mushrooms, the bright tang of citrus. He’d taught her that the ramen noodles she’d always thought were pretty good for pasta were actually just fried and dehydrated dough. He’d taught her the difference between
searing a steak and scorching it; he’d shown her the proper method to dress a salad. She remembered the hours they spent in the kitchen before Ava was born, Victor showing her how to bake melt-in-your-mouth biscuits or concoct an aromatic stew. The first time she made a meatloaf for him and misread half a
teaspoon
of salt as half a
cup
, he’d eaten an entire piece anyway, washing each bite down with a huge swallow of water, just to keep her from crying.
“Victor’s out front,” Spencer said as they walked past the two eight-burner stoves. “I’ll go grab him.”
“It hasn’t been
that
long,” Kelli said as brightly as she could manage. “I remember the way.” She smiled and patted Spencer on his thick forearm. Almost eight years ago, right before Max was born, she’d helped Victor design the restaurant’s layout. She picked out the silverware and wineglasses, the thick, cream-hued tablecloths to set off the black linen napkins. She felt a pang in her stomach—she wasn’t sure if it was hunger or regret—then pushed through the double doors that led to the dining room.
It was quarter to three, smack-dab between the lunch and dinner hours, so there were only a few customers. Kelli moved her gaze over the small bar area and spotted Victor in the corner, where she knew he liked to work. Her breath seized as she took in his handsome face—his dark hair and light silvery eyes. She didn’t understand how she had let him get away. And now, there was Grace. Grace with her important job and nice car. Grace who woke up in Victor’s bed and touched him in the places he’d promised Kelli would be forever hers.
Victor looked up from his laptop and caught her staring at him. He lifted his hand and beckoned her over, so she took a deep breath, threw her shoulders back, and proceeded to where he sat. “Hi,” he said, and there it was. The edge. Sharp enough to wound her.
Kelli sank into the chair across from him and swallowed, trying to moisten her mouth before speaking. “Hi.”
Victor raked his fingers through his hair, a gesture Kelli recognized as one he only made when he was anxious about something. “Can I get you something? Coffee or iced tea?”
“My usual would be great,” she said, testing him.
He smiled and gestured for the bartender, a short, balding man Kelli didn’t recognize. “Can we get a cranberry with Sprite and a hefty squeeze of lime, Jimmy?” Victor asked. “Light on the ice, please.” Jimmy nodded, and Kelli relaxed a bit seeing Victor so quickly rattle off her favorite mocktail—one he made for her time and again during both of her pregnancies. He hadn’t completely erased her from his mind.
“So . . .” Victor said, turning back to look at her. “How’s work going?”
Kelli shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Same old same old. You know.” She hated trying to make small talk with him, but this was the level to which their relationship had been reduced. She glanced at her watch. “I have to get the kids at three thirty,” she said. “Max has basketball practice at four.”
At that moment, Jimmy approached the table and set her drink down in front of her, so Victor waited to respond. “Thanks,” she said to the bartender, who gave her a closed-lipped smile and quickly walked away. The sign of a good server, Kelli thought. He picked up on the slight tension at the table and didn’t try to engage. That was something Victor had taught her—something he trained all his employees to do. Read the customer and act accordingly. Kelli took a sip from the red straw, then gripped the icy glass with both hands. “What did you need to talk with me about?” she asked.
Victor closed his laptop, pushed it off to the side, and let loose
a subtle, but noticeable, sigh. “I have some news,” he said. “Good news, really. And we thought you should be the first to know.”
We?
Kelli thought, momentarily confused, at first thinking he was referring to the two of them. They were the only “we” she knew. And then it hit her. What he meant. She took a measured breath and saw her knuckles go white as she grasped her glass harder. She couldn’t speak. She knew what was coming next.
Victor shifted forward in his chair and spoke in a low voice. “Grace and I are getting married,” he said.
A sudden buzzing sounded inside Kelli’s head, causing her eyeballs to vibrate. The edges of Victor’s face went blurry and she blinked a few times to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. She didn’t want him to see how much she hurt. She bit the inside of her cheek and began to nod like an idiot.
“I know this can’t be easy to hear,” she heard him say as the buzzing began to fade. “I’m sorry, but we thought you should definitely know before we tell the kids this weekend.” He paused, searching her face with those kind gray eyes. “Kelli? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
She picked up her drink and took a long pull on the straw, just to buy herself some time. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted her to say. “Congratulations”? “So happy you’ve moved on”? Her bottom lip quivered and she bit it, too. Victor saw this and reached out to touch her hand. She jerked away, splashing some of her drink onto the table. “I’m fine,” she snapped.
Victor held his hands up, palms facing her, and he leaned back in his chair. “Okay,” he said, irritation weaving itself across the lines of his face. She knew that expression well. “Sorry.”
She took a couple of shallow breaths. She felt dizzy. Had she eaten that day? She couldn’t remember. She straightened her
spine and steeled herself as best she could. She didn’t want to be the pitiful ex-wife, pining for the spouse who left her. But there she was. She glanced at the double doors leading to the kitchen and saw Spencer’s head in the window. He quickly ducked, but she knew he’d been watching them, gauging her reaction. She briefly thought about getting Spencer to sleep with her, just to piss Victor off, but she knew his friend was too loyal to ever do something as horrible as that.
She forced her eyes back to Victor, who was staring at her. “Thank you for telling me,” she said in as calm a voice as she could manage. She clasped her hands together in her lap, digging her fingernails into her skin, trying to direct the pain that threatened to overwhelm her somewhere other than her chest. Her lungs felt like they might explode. “Have you set a date?”
Victor shook his head. “It just happened last night. We’ll do that after we talk to the kids this weekend.”
“Ava’s not going to be happy,” Kelli said. Her voice was strung tight. “You should be prepared for that.”
“How do you figure?” Victor asked, scrunching his eyebrows together.
Kelli gave a small lift to her right shoulder. “She’ll think you’re trying to replace me.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Passive-aggressive, she knew. He’d nail her for it. Victor wasn’t stupid. He’d know Kelli was projecting her feelings onto their daughter so she wouldn’t have to claim them herself. It wasn’t the first time. It started when he opened the restaurant and was gone so much, leaving her alone with the kids. “Max and Ava miss you,” she’d say. “They’re starting to forget what their daddy looks like.”
“I’m not trying to replace you,” Victor said gently now. There he was. The Victor she loved. He dropped his chin and peered at her. “Kelli. Are you okay with this?”
“Of course,” she said, a little too quickly. “It’s great. So happy for you both. Are you going to have a baby with her?” Kelli panicked at the thought. It was the one thing she knew she had that Grace didn’t—she was the mother of Victor’s children. If Grace had a baby, that would be gone, too. She didn’t know if she could handle losing one more thing.
Victor sighed. “No.” He sat forward again, placing his elbows on the table and loosely linking his fingers. “Please don’t tell the kids yet, okay? We’d like to do that.”
Kelli nodded and glanced out the window. A young couple strolled by, hands in each other’s back pockets, the girl resting her head on the boy’s shoulder. Kelli gave a small smile. “Remember that?” she asked Victor. “How we used to be?”
Victor looked in the same direction, taking the couple in. Kelli knew if he remembered her drink, he’d remember that, too. But he stayed silent. They were over; it was done. And there was nothing left to say.
The night of our first date after meeting at the Loft, Victor drove all the way to my condo on Lake Washington to pick me up, only to turn around and take us back to a Thai place he loved in his own West Seattle neighborhood.
“I have to warn you,” he said as we crossed over the high rise of the West Seattle Bridge. “The restaurant is called All Thai’d Up, but I don’t want you to think that I’m dropping hints I’m into bondage or anything creepy like that. They just have really excellent curry.” I laughed and reassured him I wouldn’t make suppositions about his sexual preferences based on his restaurant of choice.
We entered the tiny establishment a few minutes later. The lights were low, the air hinted at luscious notes of garlic and lemongrass, and the walls were curtained in plush red tapestries. The hostess led us to a small table in the corner, where I confirmed by candlelight that Victor was just as handsome as I initially surmised—tonight he wore charcoal slacks and a dark blue sweater that definitely set off his warmer skin tone and gray eyes.
We spent the first part of dinner going over our backgrounds, and I learned that Victor was an only child. “Are your parents still together?” I asked, and he shook his head.
“My father took off when I was five,” he said. “And didn’t come back. Not cut out to be a dad, I guess.”
I nodded, realizing this was something else Victor and I had in common. Only my mother had asked my dad to leave, and not until I’d already moved out myself. “And your mom?”
A shadow of grief flashed across his face. “She had a stroke just after Ava was born. She was only fifty-three.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching out to briefly touch the back of his hand.
“Thanks,” he said. “I still pick up the phone to call her, you know? When something important happens?” He paused. “I’m always a little shocked when I remember she’s gone.” He shook his head. “Weird, huh?”
“Not at all,” I said, and he smiled.
“Wow,” he said, puffing out a breath. “Light topic we’ve chosen, here. Maybe we should start over?” I chuckled, nodded, and he continued. “So, tell me. How is it that a woman as accomplished and beautiful as you hasn’t been snapped up yet?”
I laughed. “Well, I’ve stayed pretty focused on my career, and I’m getting old and stuck in my ways.” I shrugged. “I don’t want to settle for anything less than wonderful.”
It was his turn to nod. “I can relate to that.”
“My best friend and I joke that we just need to find our perfect hat trick,” I told him, only to be answered with a confused look, so I clarified. “The exact right balance of physical, emotional, and mental connection with someone.”
“Okay.” Victor cocked his head to one side and scrunched his eyebrows together, clearly still baffled. “Why is that called a ‘hat trick,’ exactly?”
I set my wineglass down and waved my hand in the air a little. “In hockey or whatever, when the same player shoots three
points in a game, they call it a hat trick. So if we hit it off with a man on all three levels—mental, physical, emotional—one after the other,
he’s
a hat trick.”
“Ah,” he said, understanding finally blossoming on his face. “You lost me with the sports analogy. I might have to give up my man card for admitting this, but I really couldn’t care less about that stuff.” His brow furrowed, and he continued hurriedly. “Not about being a ‘hat trick.’ That’s an intriguing concept. But sports. They’re not my thing.”
“Mine either. I only know the term because of my brother. He played basketball in high school. I was more the studious type.” I didn’t explain how there was no way I could have been anything but studious. My mother’s need for me to help take care of my brother precluded any interest I might have had in sports—or anything else that might have taken me away from the house.
Victor sat back in his seat and gave me a long, slow smile that made me wonder what else he could do with his mouth. “So, tell me, Grace. How do you figure out if someone is your hat trick?”
“Well,” I said, “it’s highly scientific. They have to meet all three criteria. In the past, I’d date a smart guy who was maybe great in bed but as emotionally available as a rock, so I’d know he wasn’t the one. Or one who could debate relevant social issues and express his undying affection for me but was a terrible lover.”
At this, Victor laughed out loud, and the other diners paused and glanced over at us. “Sorry,” he sputtered. “I guess I’m not used to a woman being so honest about how she picks her men apart.”
“Oh, wow,” I said, wanting to backtrack immediately. “I don’t have a checklist or anything like that.” I felt flustered, oddly vulnerable. I paused, wondering if my next question was a loaded one for a first date but wanting to ask it anyway. “What about your ex-wife? Was she your hat trick?”