Impossible (21 page)

“If you're asking me if there's someone else now, there isn't. It's taken me a while to get over what happened. I was pretty disappointed when you left Paris.” It had been particularly hard for her to lose him after losing Arthur. “I got past it. Things happen. I never thought it could work between us. I was just sorry to find out that I'd been right and it couldn't.”

“It could have, if I hadn't lost my marbles.” Liam sounded embarrassed.

“You didn't. Maybe you were right. It was pretty rude leaving you behind, and treating you like a secret. I just didn't know how else to do it.”

“I didn't either. It doesn't seem like such a big deal now, but it did then.”

“It did to me too. I'm glad Xavier defused it.”

“He's a great kid, Sasha.”

“I know. I'm very lucky.” She looked at her watch then. Phillip was arriving in ten minutes, and she still had to do her hair and put on makeup. “I hate to do this, but I have to run. I'm being picked up in ten minutes.”

“Why is it that I think you're having dinner with a date and not a client?” It was both, but it was no longer Liam's business, and it never would be again.

“Maybe you're feeling paranoid,” she teased him. “Go paint something. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a nice time tonight,” he said, and for a minute, she felt the old stirring, but now she could resist him. Enough time had passed, and she had gotten sane.

“Thanks, Liam.”

She rushed around her room for ten minutes after that, trying not to think of him. And when Phillip called from the lobby, she was ready. Much to her surprise, they had a perfect evening. It was everything a first date should be. Polite, courteous, interesting, intelligent, and amusing. He was a nice man and good company. He'd had an interesting career, loved to travel, and had friends in many places. He played tennis and golf, read voraciously, had a serious interest in art, and was obviously deeply attached to his children and grandchildren. Sasha felt no great chemistry for him, but she enjoyed the evening. She found it was a relief to feel none of the things she had felt for Liam. What she experienced in Phillip's company was easy and peaceful. She didn't even care if she sold him a painting.

They had dinner at Mark's Club, and afterward he took her to Annabel's. She was home in good order, shortly after midnight. He said he was going to Holland the next day to see about a sailboat he had ordered, and he would call her as soon as he got back to Paris. It was a delight to be with someone so intelligent and pleasant. There was none of the excitement or torture she had been through with Liam.

She slept peacefully that night, saw an artist the next day, visited two galleries, and went shopping. She got back to the hotel in time to change into jeans to meet Xavier and Liam. She felt as though she were going out with her two boys. The pub Liam had chosen was as noisy and crowded as she feared it would be. They could hardly hear each other as they shouted across the table during dinner. Afterward, they went to the bar, where Xavier flirted with assorted women, and Liam tried to have an intelligent conversation with Sasha. She couldn't wait for the evening to end, and instead it seemed to go on forever. It was odd for her being there with Liam. The women crowding around them, and lusting after him openly, were all in their early twenties. As she looked at them, and at him, she knew she didn't want to be there. Ten minutes later, she told them both that she had a splitting headache. She left them there, happy and drinking. Neither of them was drunk when she left, but she suspected they would be eventually. It was a far different evening than the night before with Phillip. As polite and civilized as that was, this was loud, disorderly, and chaotic. And as she rode back to the hotel alone, she realized that the evening and where they spent it made her feel sad and ancient. She didn't know why, but it had depressed her to see Liam. This was the price she had to pay for her foolishness in getting involved with him. Now, each time she saw him, she would have to remember what had happened, and why it ended. Because Liam was not an option for her. It could never have worked.

She was relieved to get back to the hotel, and take her clothes off. She put on her nightgown and lay on the bed, enjoying the silence, and thinking about him. It was weird to think now that he had once been hers, and now he was available to all those young, excited, and faceless women. She believed, as she always had, that he should be with women closer to his age, and younger than she was. The one thing she didn't know, and maybe never would, was who she belonged with. Maybe no one. She felt out of place and lonely everywhere now, in Liam's world, and her own.

She turned the lights off at eleven o'clock, and was sound asleep when the phone rang. For a minute, she had no idea where she was, and then she remembered. The voice on the phone was deep and familiar.

“I'm downstairs in the lobby” was what he said for openers.

“Who is this?”

“It's Liam.”

“I was sleeping.”

“How's your headache?”

“I think it's better.” She didn't want to tell him she'd never had one.

“I need to talk to you.” He sounded anxious.

“I'll call you tomorrow.” She didn't want to see him. It would just make her sadder. She had left him where he belonged that night, in the pub, with all those excruciatingly young women.

“I don't want to wait till then. Please, Sasha …let me come up and see you.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.” She was wide awake now. “We've got everything where it belongs. We're friends again. Let's not screw it up by discussing what went wrong and why it did. You're happy. I'm happy. We don't need to go over it again.”

“I don't want to go over anything. I just want to see you.”

“I look the same as I did two hours ago, in a nightgown instead of blue jeans.”

“Please …I know you're leaving in the morning.” He sounded sad.

“I'll call you from Paris.” She was firm.

“I don't want to talk to you in Paris. You're here now. I want to see you.”

“Are you drunk?” she asked, sounding worried.

“No. But I will be if you don't see me.” He laughed.

She sighed, thinking about it. There wasn't a single good reason to see him. And several bad ones. She was still attracted to him, and she didn't want anything crazy to happen.

“Shit… all right… come on up, but if you do anything stupid, I'll call security and have them throw you out.”

“I won't do anything stupid. I promise.”

She got out of bed, put on a dressing gown, and walked into the living room of her suite. He was there before she had finished tying the belt on her bathrobe. He knocked once. She opened the door and looked at him. He looked tall and lean and beautiful, and the same stirrings were there, but this time she didn't heed them. She stepped back from the door and waved him in, looking sleepy.

“I'm sorry…I don't know why, Sash… but I had to see you.”

“Well, now you see me.” She smiled at him, and sat down in a chair, as he walked over, kneeled down, and put his arms around her.

“I'm sorry I was so stupid before. I thought you were demeaning me, and it drove me crazy. I wanted to go with you that night, and I wanted you to be proud of me. I just didn't know how to say it.”

“I didn't handle it well either. Sometimes that happens. The crazier you got, the more I dug my heels in. I told you it was impossible. It never could have worked between us.”

“It's still possible, if you want it to be. I've been doing a lot of thinking.”

“Don't start that again. I don't want to argue with you. And I'm not going to do anything stupid.” She crossed her arms over her chest as she said it, which took a considerable amount of effort. What she really wanted was to put her arms around him, but she wasn't going to let that happen. She still had feelings for him. And he'd been drinking. A lethal combination, as they had proven too many times.

“How was your date last night?”

“Charming, intelligent, respectable, and unbelievably boring,” she said, without thinking, and then stared at him. “I can't believe I just said that. I had a perfectly nice time, with a perfectly decent person. I don't know why I said that.” She was upset by what she'd just said. The words had just slipped out.

“Probably because it's true. Sasha, I love you.” He said it with a look of desperation. “And I don't give a damn if we keep us a secret. I realize now that it would have to be. It would make a mess if it weren't. I don't care if we never go to parties together. I just want to be with you, and share what we had before I blew it all to shit in Paris.”

“You didn't blow it all to shit,” she said kindly, “we both did. This was never meant to be. I told you, Liam. It's impossible. How stupid are we both going to be? We got lucky. We hurt each other, but we didn't do an incredible amount of damage. Next time we could, and end it very badly. Let's just quit while we're ahead. I'll be the art dealer, and you be the artist.” As she said it, he stood in front of her, leaned down, and kissed her. And hating herself for it, she responded. “Okay, so I love you. It doesn't change anything. I'm not going to do this. It's impossible.
Impossible.
How many times and how many ways do I have to say it?” He kissed her again, and this time when he stopped, she was breathless. “Liam … don't… please… we'll just drive each other crazy again …” He couldn't stop kissing her, and she couldn't stop kissing him.

“I'm already crazy,” he said miserably. “I have been ever since I was stupid enough to walk out on you in Paris.”

“You weren't stupid… and I don't want you to be my secret. You were right. You deserve better. And I can't give it to you. I'm not ready to tell the world I have a boyfriend or a lover or whatever you are who's ten years younger. It makes me feel like a dirty old lady.”

“Nine,” he said between kisses.

“Nine what?” He was confusing her with what he was doing. Her head was spinning.

“It's nine years, not ten. Don't exaggerate.”

“All right, nine. I'm still not ready to tell people. And you deserve better than being a secret.”

“I'd rather be your secret than your nothing.”

“I'm your dealer.”

“I want you to be my woman.” And all she wanted as he kissed her was to be his woman. But as soon as she would be again, everything would get crazy and confusing, just as it had in Paris. “And I want to be your very own wacky artist.” She laughed at him then.

“Well, you're that in any case, even if all I am is your dealer.”

“Sasha, give it a chance again … please, for both our sakes. I really love you.”

“I love you, too. I just don't want us to drive each other crazy. And we would. You know it. I would do something that would freak you out. I'd insult you without meaning to. And you'd show up at a board meeting wearing a loincloth and sneakers.”

“A loincloth?” He backed up and looked at her. “A loincloth? I don't even own one.”

“Then buy one,” she said, smiling. “Every wacky artist should have one. You could wear it to parties I take you to.”

“What about a toga? I could show up at a board meeting or a black-tie dinner wearing my bedsheets.” He grinned.

“That's too easy,” she said to him between kisses. She was in his arms by then, and he was carrying her into the bedroom. He deposited her on the bed where they had made love for the first time. He stopped and looked at her then, and she lay on the bed and looked at him.

“I won't make you do this if you don't want to,” he said softly.

“I should hope not,” she said, with a look of amusement. “Oh God, Liam… what are we doing?” She loved him, but she was frightened.

“We're starting where we left off, only better,” he said, sounding convinced.

“How do you know it will be better? Maybe it will be worse.”

“I know because I love you more than I did two months ago. I know because I want it to work. I want to prove to you that it is possible, and that you were wrong when you said it wasn't. I want you to be wrong.”

“So do I,” she whispered as she held her arms out to him. He untied her bathrobe then, and she took off his clothes. She wanted to believe it was possible. She wanted it to work with him. She wanted to be everything he wanted, and she wanted him to be her dreams. And as he made love to her, they both found everything they had missed and longed for for the past two months.

Afterward she looked up and smiled at him, and this time she had to laugh.

“I can't believe we're doing this again. What a couple of lunatics we are, Liam.” In spite of herself, she looked pleased.

“You're a lunatic.” He grinned at her. “I'm only a wacky artist,” he said, looking proud, and feeling as though he had come home again.

Chapter 10

The next morning they made love
again before he left. They took a shower together, and laughed about what they were doing again. There was a sense of humor about their relationship now, a kind of wonderment, an ease and sense of goodwill about it that they hadn't had before it ended in Paris. She wanted more than anything to believe it was possible. But with the difference in their lifestyle and age, she was still afraid it wasn't. It all depended on how tolerant they could be of each other. In her opinion, therein lay the key to their success: an ability for each of them to let the other be who they were. She had no idea if either of them was capable of that. This time it was going to take skill, luck, and magic for it to work.

He kissed her before he walked out the door. Standing in the doorway in her bathrobe, she watched him saunter down the hall. She was terrified that it was still impossible, but she was unable to resist him. He turned and smiled at her, and as their eyes met, everything inside her melted. She loved him more than ever before, this time for who he was.

She was smiling broadly when she met Xavier in the lobby for breakfast half an hour later. Liam had promised to meet her in Paris that weekend, and she had another idea as well. She had been planning a trip to Italy, to see new artists in May. She wanted him to come with her, and was going to mention it to him that weekend.

“You look like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary,” Xavier commented with a grin. “What's up, Mom?” He was wondering about the date she'd had the night she came to London, and he asked her about it. “Someone special?”