The One That Got Away (26 page)

D
espite an oval pair of ebony-tinted sunglasses, a furry pink hat, and a matching winter coat, Tony recognized Serena as soon as she stepped inside the coffee shop. Seated at a raised corner table, he played it cool, doodling on his BlackBerry until her gaze naturally wandered over to him.

She was silent as she approached and pulled out the chair catty-corner to his, so that they faced each other diagonally. Respecting her need for distance, he kept his eyes on his BlackBerry screen. “Good morning.” It was a Sunday, and Serena's kids were at church with her parents while she and Tony were here, at a Panera Bread shop near the University of Dayton's main campus.

Setting her sunglasses down as Tony passed her a coffee mug, Serena asked, “Where do the boys think you are?”

Smiling, he braved a glance in her direction. “Where do the girls think you are?”

Chuckling, they each revealed the alibis they'd built for their respective families. “The girls think I'm at the office catching up on work,” Serena said. “That excuse won't work much longer, though, now that I've hired an assistant.”

“Oh, the games, the lies,” Tony replied, shaking his head playfully. “My job's easier than yours. I just told the boys that I had a
‘hot date' with a woman who's in Dayton. Which you are, at the moment.”

Serena felt her shoulders hop with amusement. “Whatever, brother.”

“Look,” Tony said, turning serious once Serena had returned with her mug of decaf. “I really appreciated your call, and your agreement to meet.”

Serena leaned forward, her hands clasped to ensure they didn't get intertwined with Tony's. “You deserved an in-person apology, and I need to know if there's anything I can do to heal the damage Jamie and Dawn did to your reputation. Is everything all right with your foster parent status?”

“We're getting by,” Tony replied. The withdrawal of Dawn's accusations had backed some of the heat off of him, calmed the social workers a bit, but then there had been the unfortunate issue of his unemployment. The authorities hadn't been terribly impressed with his modest rainy-day funds; as a parental figure, he was expected to generate an ongoing income.

“Kinko's saved me,” he told Serena as she shook her head at the thought of him in one of those pale blue uniform shirts. “Never saw myself working in customer service and earning a few steps above minimum wage, but at least no one's walked in and recognized me yet.”

“You won't be there long,” Serena said, consciously resisting the urge to place a warm hand atop one of his. “You really have to forgive me, Tony. I let you down.”

“I don't want to hear it,” he replied, waving her off. “You were torn between your love for your daughter and your trust in the man you tried to build a life with. Who was I to compete with that?”

“So,” Serena began, her gaze sheepishly aimed into the table's wooden sheen, “do you think you and the twins will stay here in Cincinnati for good? Or, do you even see them staying with you once they turn eighteen?”

“Well,” Tony said, “as you've seen firsthand, the boys have some growing up to do, especially Glenn. I think it's smoothest if
we stay here until they're through high school. Plus, it gives me time to work with this therapist Zora talked me into seeing.”

Serena felt her neck tack to the right, her curiosity welling up. “What are you seeing a therapist for?” She felt like a fool for hoping it had something to do with her.

“I have this problem, you see. They're, uh, known as . . . women?”

“Very funny.”

“No, no,” Tony said, not wanting to waste time on miscommunication. “All I mean, Serena, is that I've always had difficult relationships with the women in my life, but I didn't want to understand why.” He told her of the therapist's approach, how the sister was the first person who had made him confront the entire range of emotions he'd experienced while processing Millie's abandonment through the years. “My old man was my prime influence growing up,” he said, “and no self-respecting man of his generation believed in working with shrinks, especially when there was nothing obviously wrong with me.”

Serena playfully flicked her tongue between her teeth. “Except for the unhealthy size of your water-head, even if it is due to your God-complex.”

“Yeah, well, everyone always saw that as self-confidence. This Dr. Walker has put me in the mirror. I've got a few issues to let go of where my mother is concerned. I know, I know,” Tony said. “You always knew that, but now I do, too. You happy for me?”

“Of course.” Serena took a deep breath. “I'd like to take the journey with you, Tony.”

His chest burning with repressed hope, Tony sat up straighter in his chair but kept his tone detached. “Say what?”

“What if we set a regularly scheduled date, an appointment to meet here one Sunday morning a month? I want to hear how you work through forgiving your mother, see you grow up overnight while you try to raise those two he-men you call boys.”

Despite the many ways in which his character had deepened and broadened since the day of Devon and Kym's wedding,
something about Serena's platonic request repelled Tony. What were they going to do, just deactivate their sexual chemistry? “Sure, we can do that, Serena. We'll sip tea every month and trade stories like two old girlfriends. I assume I should just leave my family jewels and whatever's attached at the front door?”

Embers glowed to life in Serena's eyes and her back bristled. “You promised me you wouldn't pressure me about Jamie—”

“I haven't asked you one thing about him,” Tony replied, his tone cooling again as he gestured calmly. “Serena, I came here with the understanding we'd have one good, clear discussion. I
might
have survived that. Now you're offering me the chance to see you month after month, with no indication of whether that leads anywhere?” He inhaled, pawing toward some sense of peace. “I don't know that I can handle that.”

Serena gave in to her simplest urge, one with the fewest repercussions. Placing a hand on top of Tony's, she lowered her voice. “Do you really think it would be healthy for us to jump into something physical, when I've just separated from my husband and when you just split with Audrey?”

Resting his elbows on the table, Tony rested his forehead against a wrist. “Spoken like a woman who's had some therapy of her own.”

Serena blinked in surprise. “How else do you think I could have come this far, separating from Jamie for what may be the last time, even though it's breaking Sydney's heart and wagging tongues on my job?”

Tony raised both of Serena's hands to his lips, pecking a kiss onto each. “I respect everything you're saying. I just don't know that I'm man enough to live up to your arrangement.” The very idea of seeing this woman time in and time out, never knowing whether she'd ultimately have the will to file divorce papers on Jamie, felt unacceptably risky.

Serena's eyes darted to her watch and she scooted her chair back. “What are you saying?” Her short heels clacking against the wooden floor, she searched Tony's eyes. “If I make this drive again in four weeks, will you be here?”

After shutting his eyes tight for a beat, Tony rose and helped Serena into her coat. “Make the drive,” he said, pecking a platonic kiss onto her cheek, the type that kills a man filled with passion. He withheld any promise; Serena would have her answer the next time she walked through these doors.

E
ighteen months after being trampled to within an inch of his life, Tony finally felt as if he'd fully recovered. The limp, the occasional fear of crowded spaces, the recurring nightmares: all were now relics of his past, fading in the rearview mirror. Now that he had shaved his beard and gone back to wearing a skintight fade, he bore no visible signs of his recent journey.

As his water skis glided over the turquoise surface of the Atlantic, a mile from the sparkling white shores of Grand Bahama Island, Tony realized for the first time that he now took his health for granted. Bending and bowing his body, keeping a tight grip on the cord connecting him to the zooming speedboat, he caught himself and marveled at his abilities. Just six months ago, the lingering pain in his left leg would never have allowed him to keep his balance on these skis, much less move with the agility and strength waterskiing required.

With the boat whisking him along, Tony reveled in the physical challenge and began planning the rest of his weekend adventures. There were so many to choose from—snorkeling, parasailing, windsurfing—and he aimed to partake of as many as he could squeeze in.

When the boat dropped him back at the shore, Trey, Mitchell,
and O.J. came running down to the dock. Dressed in the same outfits as Tony—knee-length swim trunks in loud fluorescent colors, white muscle T-shirts, and thick flip-flops—they critiqued his skiing style before turning back toward the shore. With the bright sun painting the clear blue sky and the air full of the ocean's salty flavor, the midwestern quartet floated out to a main road and hailed a cab to Freeport's International Bazaar.

They piled into the cab, still trading wisecracks. “Okay, I'm thousands of miles from home—Daddy needs a drink,” O.J. said, winking with pleasure at Tony. Now that he was an assistant minister at his church, the DJ could little afford to hang when he was at home. His friend's joking aside, Tony sensed that in time his boy would be in charge of his own house of worship.

Tony and the fellas had agreed to this weekend getaway three months earlier, around Independence Day. With their mid-thirties bearing down, on top of the responsibilities of wives, children, and work, they felt they'd earned the right to act like college brats for three days somewhere far, far away. For the twenty-six hours since they'd arrived, they'd lived up to that ideal while respecting the commitments waiting at home. Much alcohol had been consumed and many women had been flirted with, but only Trey planned to get biblically familiar with anyone.

It was late afternoon, and a light breeze wafted through the air as the partners in crime bopped through one of the bazaar's many strips of shops, bars, and restaurants. “So what you think?” Trey asked, hands raised victoriously over his head. “Should I call up that sweet little maid from the hotel?” The attractive sister, who looked like Naomi Campbell crossed with J.Lo, had taken a quick liking to the blue-eyed hipster while cleaning their suite.

Pastor O.J. did little to fluff Trey's ego. “Don't get too ahead of yourself with that babe, hoss. She only took after you 'cause she got shut out by the rest of us. I mean, Mitchell and I are married, and ol' Tony here seems to have misplaced his Johnson altogether!”

“Oh, no!” Mitchell clapped a hand onto Tony's shoulder. “You gonna let him hit you like that, Mr. Too Good?”

Keeping his eyes straight ahead but not breaking stride, Tony shrugged. “O.J.'s forgotten a little conversation he and I had a couple months ago. You know, the one where he complained about not getting no booty since he put a ring on LaRae's finger?”

“Hey, Gooden,” O.J. said, pointing a finger anxiously and looking as if his mind was replaying every embarrassing fact he'd revealed. “Chill, man. I was just messing with ya.”

Tony elbowed Mitchell, leaning in toward his friend's ear. “See how the truth backs a brother off you? Anyway,” he said, looking O.J. in the eye as Mitchell and Trey's laughter surrounded them, “I'm still a man, pastor, don't worry. I'm just too busy to get tangled up in mess these days.”

He hoped he didn't sound self-righteous, but truth was truth. Even though the twins had now graduated from Rowan Academy and moved back to Chicago with him—where they'd enrolled free of charge at Chicago Technical, courtesy of their “grandfather” Wayne—life in Chicago was just as demanding as it had been in Cincinnati. Tony agreed to let the boys move into a dorm sophomore year, but for this first year of college he'd forced them to stay with him, if only to ensure they were adjusting to life as men.

Once they'd settled on their first selected bar for the afternoon, Tony ordered a round of drinks for the entire table. “This is my contribution,” he shouted as he peeled off three traveler's checks and handed them to the waitress. He knew his round of drinks was paltry compared to O.J.'s donation; Mr. Radio Star had paid for the gang's entire condo. “Don't ask me for nothing else.”

“It's all good, baby,” Trey replied, cracking a grin and rising from his seat. “I got to run and drain the one-eyed snake y'all; be right back.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I don't want to hear you whining if we drink your free beer while you're gone.” As his friend stalked off in search of a bathroom, Tony took a second to appreciate his friends. If only Devon—who'd backed out of the trip when his wife, Kym, insisted he attend a family wedding—had come along, all his closest boys would be gathered in this one spot.

He had much to be grateful for, though. For a while there
he'd come close to canceling out Trey's friendship altogether. Two things had pulled them through: the disintegration of Trey's own relationship with Jade, who was ultimately frightened off by his host of kids and baby mamas, and Tony's decision to move back to Chicago with the twins. Given that the tension between them centered around his desire for Serena, Tony's gradual acceptance of life without her had drawn him closer to his old friend.

An hour turned into several as Tony and his boys knocked back liquor, swapped memories, and engaged in the types of jokes they liked to pretend they'd outgrown. Tony was halfway through a plate of loaded nachos, eager to soak up the alcohol flooding his system, when he realized he and Trey were alone at the table. Scanning the bar, Tony nodded toward his friend. “What happened to the fellas?”

“Mitchell wanted to check out that jewelry store next door, think he had his eye on something for Nikki,” Trey replied. “O.J. bolted without saying much; I assume something he ate didn't like him, know what I mean?”

“Whatever,” Tony said, checking his watch. “Day's getting away from us. We got a few more bars to sample before getting in a nap, right? Gotta be rested before hitting the clubs tonight.”

Trey leaned forward, his palms pressed flat against each other. “T, you sound like a brother eager to get into some action tonight. I thought I was the only one on that tip.”

Tony slipped his Ray-Ban sunglasses down over his eyes. “I'm not dead, Trey. I didn't want to talk about it in front of those two, but I might just be up for some action tonight.”

Trey raised a blond eyebrow. “But T, whenever I try to get you out in the streets with me back home, you always pass.”

“I just don't have time,” Tony said. “I was never like you, Trey, one who had women naturally flocking to me. I was a calculator—figuring out what it took to get next to whatever women I was interested in. Granted, once I did the work, I could usually get what I wanted, but it still took effort.” He considered taking another pull on his latest margarita, then thought better of it. “Between watching over the boys and swatting away the knuckleheads who
keep stepping to Zora”—his sister's increasing influence as a women's rights activist had outstripped her status as a novelist, but the brothers just kept coming for her—“I don't have time to go around playing games.”

“Hey, I respect that,” Trey replied, “but if you're ready to go buck wild now, does this mean you're completely over . . . well, you know.”

Tony's jaw twitched and he raised a hand. “Trey, come on, don't do this. You do value our friendship, right?”

Trey stared in Tony's direction, but it was clear he was looking at someone standing behind his friend. An anxious but gleeful smile on his face, he shrugged in Tony's direction. “Never mind, man, never mind. Just be cool.”

Tony bolted forward so quickly he knocked over his margarita. Letting the sticky liquid dribble down onto the floor, he fixed Trey with an instructive stare. In the pit of his stomach, he knew Serena would always be a sore subject. Although he had followed through for six months with their periodic get-togethers and had been a complete gentleman each time, he'd put a stop to them when Serena finally filed divorce papers. Serena still hadn't been ready to talk about a future for the two of them; in fact, Tony sensed she needed the luxury of life without a man to please and place extra demands on her. He'd had no choice but to wish her well and pray he could move on with his life.

“I made the right decision,” he told Trey, the insistence in his tone sounding unsettling even to his own ears. “I did the right thing, and I'd prefer to never speak about it again. Okay?”

From over his shoulder, a bubbly but strong voice said, “Well, okay.”

His head filling with white noise, Tony pivoted in his seat to find Serena standing over him. Dressed in a silk aqua short-sleeved blouse and a matching knee-high wraparound skirt with a pair of leather sandals, she was untouched by the passage of time save for the length of her hair; her waves of nearly straight curls ran to her shoulders, coming to a stop at her breastbone.

Tony was still mute, reared back in his seat, when she spoke
again. “I'm as tired of talking about your time in Cincinnati as you are, Tony,” she said. “So I promise, take a minute to discuss it with me now, and we'll let it go for good.”

Still turned in her direction, Tony glanced toward Trey's seat, hoping for a few seconds to gather his thoughts, only to find that his homeboy had pulled the same disappearing act as Mitchell and O.J. Under his breath: “Well, wasn't that damn sweet of them.”

In seconds he grabbed his wallet and followed Serena out into the street, where they melded wordlessly into the surrounding crowd of enterprising natives and aimless tourists. For the first block their silence was all the communication needed, she walking with the confidence of a woman reborn, he stealing wary glances from behind his sunglasses to confirm this was really happening.

Serena kept her eyes straight ahead when she finally cracked the ice. “So, tell me what you know.”

He licked his lips, taking a deep inhalation of the conch-fritter grease wafting through the air. “I know that Jamie picked up after you, that he moved in with his son and the kid's mother. I know Dawn is still at Rowan, that she's on track to graduate and wants to attend cosmetology school.”

“You heard right,” Serena replied. “Her plans aren't exactly what I envisioned for her, but I guess I'm learning it's not always healthy for children to try and live up to what their parents want for them. If she doesn't feel it, she won't succeed at it.”

“I think our family therapist mentioned something about that recently,” Tony said, shrugging. When Serena did a double take, he didn't fight the smirk that emerged. “Yeah, the shrink did such a job on me, I even let her take a crack at the boys. Glenn especially needed help reevaluating his treatment of young ladies.” He looked at Serena directly, slowing his pace. “He's really come a long way. I aim to keep him from ever treating another girl the way he did Dawn.”

“Well, it won't be easy,” Serena replied, a half smile on her lips. “And you may as well know, all you can do is try and influence him. What he does in the end is up to him.”

“I'm learning,” Tony said, reaching out and taking her hand as a reflex action. They traded notes about their “low-maintenance” children. Sydney was still upset over her parents' divorce, but counseling had lifted her spirits, her grades were still high, and she had come to understand her parents' love for her hadn't changed. Ben had already starred in one play produced by the university and was hard at work writing his own production, all while maintaining a nearly perfect grade point average.

They passed a deserted but clean alleyway, and Serena pulled Tony toward its nearest corner. “You were frustrated with me the last time I saw you.”

His hands wrapped into hers, Tony guided her toward the nearest wall. “Where'd you get that crazy idea?”

“Maybe by the fact you never even called before moving back to Chicago.” Six months into Tony's stint as a Kinko's manager, Larry Whitaker had called and convinced him to serve as chief operating officer of the newly approved Chicago Rowan Academy. Picking up where he'd left off, Tony was immersed in the school's construction, the hiring of staff and faculty, and coordinating the public relations campaign so central to the school's launch.

“I couldn't be a phony,” Tony replied. “I knew what was best for you, Serena but it didn't feel like what was best for me.”

Serena looked up into his eyes, the initial protective wall receding by the second. “I'm glad that you worked out your differences with Mr. Champion and Larry—”