Impossible

A few minutes later, Sasha arrived to join them. She had seen them circling each other, and was worried. Tatianna looked annoyed, never a good sign. Liam looked curious about her, and Sasha was afraid he would give it away if he asked her too many questions, or was too friendly. Tatianna seemed to suspect nothing. She just didn't want to get to know him, and there was no reason why she should, that she knew of.

“Have you two met?” Sasha asked, appearing casual, as she put an arm around her daughter and stood apart from Liam, looking like an art dealer and a mother, and nothing more. And surely not his woman.

“Yes, we have,” Liam said with a warm smile at Sasha, which her eyes returned.

“Liam is one of our artists and a friend of Xavier's from London. That's how I met him. He scouted him for us. He's having a show in December. What are you up to tonight?” Sasha asked Tatianna. She looked beautiful, undeniably, but Sasha hated it when you could see her body through her dress, which one could. But she looked no different from the other young women at the party. These days they all dressed like that at her age. It always made Sasha nervous, but she said nothing. Tatianna was old enough to wear what she wanted, and do as she chose.

“I'm having dinner at Pastis, with friends,” Tatianna said vaguely, and glanced at her watch. It was a small diamond one her father had given her on his last Christmas.

“It was nice of you to come uptown for this, sweetheart,” Sasha said with a warm smile. She knew Tatianna did almost nothing on the Upper East Side, except for work. Like most people her age, her entire social life was downtown.

“I said I would.” Tatianna smiled at her mother. You could tell that the two women were close, although very different. Tatianna respected her a great deal, even if she didn't like meeting her artists. She was impressed by what her mother did, and proud of her for expanding the empire her grandfather had built. Tatianna still remembered him. He had always scared her when they lived in Paris. Xavier had liked him better.

“We're having dinner at La Goulue,” Sasha said casually. It was one of her favorite places, and Tatianna wasn't surprised. It was close to the gallery, the food was good, and it was full of life, and trendy people. She had already taken Liam there, and he liked it a lot.

Tatianna left a few minutes later, and after she did, Sasha came back to talk to Liam.

“So did you two hit it off?” She looked slightly worried. They had looked like two dogs circling each other right up until Tatianna left.

“She's beautiful,” Liam said honestly. No one could have denied that. “A little scary, though. I don't think she likes me.”

“Don't be put off by her. That's just her style. Men approach her constantly, she wears a lot of armor.” And fangs, Liam thought, but he would never have said it to her mother. He had taken a visceral dislike to her. She seemed like a spoiled brat to him. Xavier was a whole different kind of being. But even their friendship had done nothing to impress her. Liam was convinced nothing would.

They left for dinner after that. Sasha had invited a number of people she thought he'd enjoy, along with the artist whose show it was. There were fourteen of them for dinner at a long table at La Goulue, where everyone fussed over them, and Sasha. She kept a motherly eye on everyone, and saw to it that every detail was attended to, and everyone had a good time. Her caring manner defined what Liam loved about her. She was warm and nurturing and attentive to everyone. Girls like her daughter were only interested in themselves. Sasha made a real effort to make Liam feel important, comfortable, and welcome, and he loved her for it. It was what he needed most from her.

Nothing in her behavior that night suggested to anyone that there was something going on between them. She gave nothing away, not a look or a touch, or anything she said. She made it clear that he was important to her as an artist, and nothing else, and she was the attentive dealer. She was every bit as kind to the others as she was to him. He complimented her on it when they got back to her apartment, where he felt totally at home now. Tatianna would have been incensed to see him sprawled out, smoking a cigar, in her father's favorite chair in their bedroom. But fortunately, she couldn't see it. To Tatianna, everything that had been her father's was sacred, including her mother. She had frequently said that she was glad Sasha wasn't dating and hoped she never would. Her older brother was far more realistic. All he wanted was for their mother to be happy, whatever and whoever it took.

“Sasha, you are amazing,” Liam said, smiling at her through his smoke rings. She even let him smoke there, and said she liked the smell, which in fact, she did. Arthur had also had a fondness for good Cubans. “The opening was terrific. You managed to make everyone feel important, even me. Hotchkiss loved it.” Hotchkiss was the artist they'd been showing. “He felt like he'd died and gone to heaven. He kept telling me how lucky I am to be represented by you, and he doesn't know the half of it.” Liam laughed, and so did she.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it,” she said, looking genuinely pleased. She was a hands-on dealer, particularly with him. But it was her style to be totally involved with both her artists and her clients. She loved what she did, and was brilliant at it.

“Who wouldn't?” he said, admiring her as she put on her nightgown. She was totally at ease with him, and felt as though she had been living with him for years. “Tatianna scared me,” he confessed, as he finished his cigar, and Sasha got into bed and looked at him.

“Don't be silly. She's just a kid. That's the way she is. She's very cool. She was very attached to her father, and she's very possessive about me. I told you, she's very black and white about things. But her glare is worse than her bite. She probably thought you were just another horny artist, lusting after her. I wish she didn't wear those dresses, though. It's no wonder men stalk her.”

“She's knock-out looking,” he conceded, but he wasn't nearly as blithe about her as her mother. Sasha obviously knew her better. “She's so different from Xavier. He would talk to a homeless person and make him feel like a king. I felt like dirt under her feet.” It was a slight exaggeration, but not by much, and Sasha was sorry to hear it.

“She's a little spoiled, from all the attention she gets. She looked pretty tonight.”

“She is pretty.” But her icy style turned him off. Sasha was a brightly burning candle, lit from within. Tatianna was an iceberg, or looked that way to him.

“She's a lot like my father. He was scary, too, although I think you would have liked him.” She also knew her father would have had no interest whatsoever in his work. Emerging artists had never been his thing, right to the end, although he liked the profits her pet passion had brought them. But he had never understood or cared for the work.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Liam asked, as he got into bed with her. He had a certain look in his eye, and designs on her body, to which she was not opposed. They had made her bed their own.

“I thought we'd go out to the Hamptons,” Sasha said as he folded her into his arms.

“Sounds good to me,” he said, and then kissed her in the dark.

“It does to me, too,” she whispered as she kissed him back, and then forgot everything but him.

She went to the gallery the next day, was pleased with the reviews for the show, and they left for Southampton after dinner. They bought groceries on the way and got there at ten o'clock. They sat on the porch, talking for a while, while Liam ate ice cream, and they chatted about nothing in particular. They went to bed early, made love again, got up and went for a walk on the beach the next morning. They were settling into an easy, comfortable way of life. And that afternoon, sitting on the beach, he talked about moving his studio to Paris, maybe in the fall. It would be easier than commuting from London every weekend, which was tiring, and expensive for him. And he wanted to be close to her during the week.

They both knew that sooner or later, people would find out about them. Bernard already had. But Liam was not trying to shove his way into her life. He accepted that their lives and lifestyles were different, but what they had shared so far felt great to him. This was definitely possible, for both of them. He thought it was terrific, and Sasha was slowly but surely becoming convinced. Contrary to her fears in the beginning, it was not impossible at all.

They went to a movie in Southampton that night, and were cozily tucked into bed afterward, giggling and talking, when they both heard a sound. It sounded like someone downstairs, and they thought it was an intruder.

“Do you have a panic button on the alarm?” he whispered to her, and she shook her head.

“I have a thing somewhere, but I don't know where it is,” she whispered back. They could definitely hear someone moving around, and then heard a step on the stairs. Liam glanced around her moonlit bedroom, grabbed a poker from the fireplace, and yanked her bedroom door open, as they heard a step right outside. And as he pulled the door toward him, he flipped on the light, and stood in her bedroom doorway, stark naked, with the poker in his hand. He found himself less than a foot from Tatianna, staring at him with a stunned expression. There was a young man just behind her, on the landing. She screamed the moment she saw Liam, and so did he. It was a scene beyond belief. The young man with her took a step toward him, as Sasha leaped out of bed and came to stand right behind Liam. She was also naked, and astounded to see her daughter. Tatianna had said nothing about using the house that weekend. She thought her mother no longer went there at all. Sasha hadn't mentioned her recent trips there, and had no desire to explain Liam's presence in her life.

“My God, Mother, what are you doing?” She burst into tears, and the man with her discreetly headed down the stairs. He had instantly figured out what had happened, and decided to remove himself from the scene, a wise decision. “Are you insane?” And then she turned to Liam, sobbing, “What the fuck do you think you're doing in my father's bed? What are you both thinking? Don't you have any respect for Daddy?” she screamed at her mother. “How can you bring him here? How could you? Is this what you do when you're in Paris? You just run around screwing your artists?” Without thinking, for the first time in her life, shaking from head to foot, Sasha slapped her daughter, and Tatianna slapped her back, as Liam groaned and set down the poker. He was shaking, too, and ran into the bedroom to put something on. All he was able to find in the chaos of the moment were his jockey shorts, which wasn't a vast improvement, but it was better than standing there with his privates hanging out. He hadn't had time to put on clothes when he thought he was protecting Sasha from a burglar. He would have preferred to face a man with a gun than Tatianna.

“Everyone calm down… please…,” he urged both crying women, to no avail. Tatianna was still screaming at her mother, in a state approaching hysteria. “Just stop! Let's go downstairs and talk,” he said in the calmest voice he could muster. Neither of them listened, and then Tatianna turned on him again.

“Get out of my parents' house, you bastard! You don't belong here!” He was at a total loss for words, in the face of her fury. He had never been in a situation like this. Thank God Beth hadn't walked in on him with Becky, or it might have been worse, although he couldn't imagine anything much worse than this, being attacked by Sasha's irate daughter, and the horrified look in Sasha's eyes. It was awful.

“Don't speak to him that way,” Sasha was shouting at her. “He's my guest.”

“He's not your guest. He's your lover. And you're both disgusting.” She spat the words at her mother, turned on her heel, and ran down the stairs, and within seconds they heard the door slam, and the car she'd come in drive away. If she'd been planning a romantic weekend, she had gotten something very different, and so had Liam and Sasha. Sasha sat down on the stairs, put her face in her hands, and sobbed, as Liam put his arms around her. This was not the way she had wanted Tatianna to find out about them. She was devastated, and cried for hours.

“She'll never respect me again, Liam. She thinks I dishonored her father's memory, and I suppose I have,” she said, looking morbidly depressed and badly shaken. “She called me a whore and a slut. Oh my God…I can't believe this happened.” Neither could he, and there was very little he could do, except comfort her, to make it better. He thought Tatianna had behaved like a monster, no matter how surprised or upset she was. She had said things to her mother that could never be forgotten or taken back, even if Sasha chose to forgive her, which knowing Sasha, he was sure she would.

“This is none of her business,” he told Sasha firmly, once he got her back to bed, which took hours. He wasn't even sure if he should be in the bed with her, but she needed him, so he decided to stay. “You haven't done anything wrong. You're a grown woman, your husband has been gone for almost two years. You have a right to a life without him. You were in the privacy of your own home, with a man who loves you. You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, and kissed her gently. “She owes you an apology, Sasha. What she said to you was inexcusable.” And even if Sasha did, he had no intention of excusing it, or forgiving her, anytime soon. She had called him a piece of shit and a two-bit gigolo, which had cut him to the quick. He would have liked to slap her too, but of course he didn't. For Sasha's sake, if nothing else. There was no point adding fuel to a fire that was already blazing out of control. But they were both smarting from Tatianna's verbal attack on them, and her outrage at finding her mother with Liam, in what had once been her parents' bed.

“It's her house too,” Sasha said miserably. “She has a right to be here. I just didn't want her to know about us so soon, and not like this.” She felt like a prostitute who'd been caught entertaining a john. Her daughter had made her feel like the lowest of the low. They finally fell asleep when the sun came up, after talking about it for hours, ad nauseam. She cried herself to sleep in his arms, and they both woke up to the sound of the phone at nine-thirty. It was Xavier, calling from London. His sister had called him the night before, and told all. Her version was pretty ugly. She had said that Liam was strutting around the house naked when she walked in, and had obviously been screwing their mother. Xavier had been startled at first, particularly by the picture she painted. But when he calmed down, and thought about it for several hours after that, he wasn't entirely opposed to the match. In fact, not at all. He liked Liam. He was just sorry for everyone that it had come to light in the way it had. It was two-thirty in the afternoon for him when he called them. And his mother cried the moment she heard him on the phone. She was deeply remorseful.

“Darling, I'm so sorry…I couldn't…I thought… it wasn't the way it looked to Tati …oh God… what am I going to do?” She was sure her relationship with her daughter was destroyed forever, and she had never felt so ashamed in her life. No affair was worth destroying her family over. She loved Liam, or she thought she did, but her children still came first. And she was terrified Xavier would be angry too.

“First, you have to calm down,” Xavier said sensibly. He had said the same thing to Tatianna, when she called him at six in the morning his time, screaming and crying hysterically, and calling their mother a whore. He had told her to shut up immediately, and she had. They had talked for hours. He had assured her that Liam was a nice guy, a good friend of his, and he had introduced them, although he hadn't expected this to happen. In fact, it had never occurred to him. But he thought their mother had a right to happiness, with whomever she chose. It was not up to them. She had obviously been discreet about it, as he pointed out to Tatianna, since no one seemed to know. Even he hadn't figured it out when he saw them together. And she certainly was no “whore.” She was a lonely woman with a lover who happened to be a few years younger than she was, which was none of their business.

“How can she do that in Daddy's bed? That's disgusting!” Tatianna had wailed. She had worshiped him and still couldn't believe he was gone. And now to add to her misery, someone had taken his place and was sleeping in his bed.

“Tati, it's her bed too. Where do you expect her to go? We're lucky she lets us use the house. She doesn't have to. Dad left it to her.”

“She could go to a hotel.”

“That would be sordid. She has the right, Tat, and I promise you he's a decent guy. I know him well.”

“Like hell he is. He's a starving artist, and he's after her money. Our money,” she reminded her brother, hoping to pit him against his friend. It didn't work. Xavier knew Liam better.

“I don't think so,” Xavier said thoughtfully. “I really don't. I think he likes her.” At least he hoped so, which was what he wanted to know when he called his mother. “Is this serious, Mom?” he asked her honestly, and she hesitated. She didn't know what to say, or what to call it. They loved each other, but they hadn't figured the rest out yet. That's what they were doing now.

“I don't know.” Sasha answered her son honestly. She was always honest with her children. She hadn't lied about Liam. She just hadn't told them. It was a sin of omission, but not commission, which she knew was splitting hairs.

“How long has it been going on?” he asked then, hoping it wasn't a one-night stand, or an irresistible impulse, which would make a liar of him to Tatianna, when he had said his mother didn't do things lightly and this was probably important to her. Which only made Tatianna cry more. She didn't want her mother marrying some ridiculous young artist. That would have been just too embarrassing. And too much for her to swallow. She wanted her mother to mourn her father forever, childish though that was.

“It's been going on for six months. On and off since January,” Sasha said miserably. Liam was listening, lying next to her in bed, and decided to leave her alone to talk to her son. He got up and went downstairs to make coffee.

“Are you going to marry him?” Xavier asked her.

“Good lord…I don't know…I keep telling him this is impossible. I think Tatianna proved that last night. I'm not going to do anything that alienates me from either of you. Liam and I haven't figured out where this is going to go, if anywhere. It may not.”

“It won't alienate you from us, Mom. Nothing could do that. We love you. She'll get over it. She was just surprised. We want you to be happy.” He spoke for both of them, which Sasha knew was not the case. Or at least not at the moment.

She groaned ruefully then at the memory of the scene the night before, with she and Liam naked and everyone screaming at each other. Tatianna had described it fairly accurately to her brother. “It was pretty awful. We thought she was a burglar. Liam went out into the hall with a poker, and no clothes on.”

“So she told me,” he said generously. He was two years older than his sister, which made a difference. And Liam was his friend, so he was not an unknown to him. His mother's affair with him had surprised him too at first, but at least he knew he was a decent person. Tatianna knew nothing about him. “It's a good thing he didn't just take a swing and hit her in the dark.”

“He turned the lights on, which made it worse, when she saw us.” This time Xavier laughed.

“Well, Mom, you've been outed. But if you're happy, that's all I care about. I'll talk to Tatianna later. I told her to take a Valium and go to bed.”

“Does she take Valium?” Her mother sounded shocked. Neither of her children had ever been on drugs, that she knew of.

“No. But I'm sure someone she knows has some. She sounded like she needed it last night. You should have turned a fire hose on her. She was half out of her mind when she called.” And by then, she'd had a stiff drink, and sounded slightly drunk. She was a total mess, and he told her to get some sleep and call him later. “Can I talk to Liam?” Sasha went to find him in the kitchen. He handed her a cup of coffee, and she handed him the phone. Xavier chuckled as soon as he heard the familiar voice. “So do I call you Dad now?”

“That's a lot better than what your sister called me. Hey man, I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to create this mess. I wouldn't do that to your mother for anything, or to you.”

“Don't worry about it. Shit happens.” Xavier stepped into his role as head of the family then, defending his mother's interests. “Do you love her?” he asked soberly. Xavier hoped he did, because he was a good guy, and Xavier wanted to believe he was behaving honorably, and not just on a whim. He didn't want his mother taken advantage of, especially by his friend.

“Yes, I do,” Liam said loud and clear, glancing over at Sasha, who was slumped in a seat at the kitchen table, still looking upset. She felt utterly humiliated.

“Is it too soon to ask your intentions?”

“Probably. We're both still trying to figure that out. It's a little early. It's taken me a lot to convince your mother that this was a good idea. I don't think last night helped a lot. And I'm not even divorced yet.” Then he asked Xavier a question. “If we ever got there, would you approve?”

Xavier hesitated for a long moment, thinking about it. This was new to him, too. “I guess so, if you think you can make each other happy. It's not what I expected, but life takes funny turns sometimes. Maybe this could work. I'll let you two figure that out. I'll take care of my sister while you do.”

“I appreciate it a lot,” Liam said with a tremor in his voice. What he appreciated was his friend's blessing on their relationship, more than his help with his irate sister, although that was useful, too, and would mean a lot to Sasha, who still looked distraught. Liam handed her back the phone then and went outside to stand on the porch and look at the beach. It was a foggy day, which seemed appropriate to him.

Xavier tried to calm his mother when she got back on the phone. She was crying softly, and he felt sorry for her. He could easily sense how awful it had been for her. “Mom, try to relax. I'll talk to Tat. Just try to have a decent weekend. She'll get over it. So will you. He's a good guy. He says he loves you. That's all you need to know.”

“I love him, too,” she sniffed, “but I'm not willing to lose my children for him.”

“You won't. She'll yell and scream and stomp around for a while. She'll be a diva. That's how she is. You have a right to this, if that's what you want. You have my support. And if you stick with it, and it works, you'll get hers, too. If not, chalk it up to experience and we'll all laugh about it one day.” But no one was laughing yet. Xavier was being incredibly mature and generous, far more so than his sister.

She thanked him profusely, they talked for a few more minutes, and then they hung up and she went out to find Liam on the porch. He was looking out to sea and thinking, and turned as she sat down on the swing next to him.

“I'm sorry, Sasha. I didn't mean to make a mess for you.” He looked genuinely sorry it had happened.

“You didn't make a mess. It just happened. They were bound to find out sooner or later.” Others would, too. This was just not the way she wanted their affair to come to light, to say the least. Neither did he.

They spent the rest of the weekend quietly, and went back to the city Sunday night. She had tried to get through to Tatianna several times on her cell phone, and it was always on voice mail. At her apartment, all Sasha got was the answering machine, and left several loving messages for her. Liam hated to hear her crawling, but he knew how much her daughter meant to her. He thought Tatianna should be spanked, but he said nothing to Sasha. How she handled it now was up to her.

Xavier left his sister several messages, and she called him back in London. But she was intransigent when he tried to reason with her, and furious with him for endorsing Liam.

“You're as nuts as they are. For chrissake, he's about twenty years younger than she is. How crazy is she?”

“She's not crazy, Tat. She's lonely. And he's only about eight or nine years younger than she is,” Xavier said quietly, trying in vain to reason with her.

“He looks like a kid.”

“In some ways, he is. He acts like one, but he isn't. He's an adult. He says he loves her. And I think she loves him. Whether we like it or not, she has a right to be with whoever she wants. And I'd rather it be him than some uptight prick we really hate, or some guy after her money.”

“This is sick, Zav. And he probably is after her money.”

“I don't think so. All he cares about is art. He's a decent guy who was married for twenty years and has three kids.” He didn't tell her that the marriage had broken up because he had slept with his wife's sister. “You just have to trust her on this one. Maybe they'll get over it. They're not hurting anyone.”

“She'll look like a fool, and so will we, if anyone finds out, or she goes out with him.”

“I've done a lot worse, believe me. And so have you.” He knew all her secrets, and there were a few affairs she wouldn't have wanted to publicize, either. And Sasha was certainly not making her relationship with Liam public. On the contrary, she was keeping it a secret, and hiding out in the Hamptons. But even if people found out, there was nothing disgraceful about Liam.

“She's our mother!” Tatianna raged at him again. She wasn't giving an inch on this one. And when Tatianna dug her heels in, as a rule wild horses couldn't budge her. Not for a while at least.

“That's the point here. Give her a break, Tat. Be decent to her. She needs it. She was miserable when Dad died. I want her to be happy.”

“Not with him.” Tatianna had declared war on both of them, and intended to keep it that way. She wanted to get Liam out of her mother's life, whatever it took. She was determined to save her mother from herself, for her father's sake if nothing else.

They argued about it for nearly an hour, and Tatianna never relented. She told Xavier that she wouldn't rest until Liam was gone. From the sound of what she said, Xavier believed her. He thought it was a shame. All he could do now was hope Liam was tougher and more tenacious than his sister. Tatianna was relentless once she set her sights on something. And she had.

Chapter 14

Sasha looked morbidly depressed when she got to the gallery on Monday. Karen, the manager, noticed it, and Marcie asked her gently if everything was all right, when she handed Sasha some more reviews from the show the week before.

“Are you okay?” she asked solicitously, as Sasha looked up at her with tears in her eyes. Tatianna hadn't returned a single call, and that morning at her office they had told Sasha she was out. She didn't want to stalk her, but Tatianna absolutely would not take her calls.

“I had a problem with Tatianna over the weekend,” she told her assistant cryptically. She couldn't have begun to describe the scene of Liam standing in the bedroom doorway naked with a fireplace poker, while Tatianna screamed insults at them both. Every time Sasha thought of it, she cringed, and started to cry again. It had been too awful.

“Is she all right?” Although she'd never had children of her own, nor been married, Marcie was the ultimate nurturing mother, which was one of the things Sasha loved about her. She was not only good at what she did, but loving and kind, and wonderful to Sasha.

“I don't know. She won't talk to me. We had a terrible fight. Worse than I can describe.” Marcie knew that hadn't been unusual when Tatianna was younger, but in recent years mother and daughter seemed to get along fine. Until now.

“She'll get over it,” Marcie reassured her. The question now was, would Sasha?

“I'm not sure she will,” Sasha said, as she blew her nose and wiped her eyes on one of her lace hankies. She had acquired the habit from her mother of always carrying a handkerchief. It was one of the tender memories of her she cherished. Sasha always had one in her bag. “It was terrible,” Sasha reiterated while Marcie clucked over her, and came back with a cup of tea, a glass of water, and some cookies, as Sasha looked up and smiled. “Thank you, Marcie.” Her assistant seemed to hesitate before she left, and then asked Sasha if there was anything she could do to help. She didn't want to pry. “I wish you could, but you can't,” Sasha answered, and then started to cry harder. Marcie couldn't stop herself then, she came back into the room and gave her employer and friend a hug.

“Whatever it is, it'll blow over, I promise,” Marcie said, nearly in tears herself.

“No, it won't.” Sasha blew her nose again, as the tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “It's Liam,” she finally confessed, as Marcie stared at her in confusion.

“Liam?” What did he have to do with it? Marcie couldn't figure it out. “Does she know him?” How did he get into the fight? It was definitely confusing.

“Better than she wanted to the other night. He was staying with me in Southampton.” That still didn't explain it to Marcie, but she looked sympathetic as Sasha tried to fill her in, as best she could.

“And they got in a fight?”

“She called him, and me, every name in the books. Whore, slut, gigolo, bastard. That was just the beginning.”

“My God, what happened?” Marcie looked appropriately shocked.

Sasha looked at her long and hard. She trusted her. She had known her for years, and loved her. She hadn't wanted to share this with anyone yet, if ever, but she needed to now. “She walked in on us in Southampton. I had no idea she was going to use the house. We were in bed. She walked in. We thought she was an intruder. Liam walked out of the bedroom stark naked with a fireplace poker, and damn near hit her on the head. After that, all hell broke loose.”

“Liam? What was Liam doing in your bedroom?” Marcie looked blank, and Sasha laughed through her tears.

“For heaven's sake, Marcie, what do you think he was doing in my bedroom? Believe me, Tatianna figured it out. Particularly as he was standing there naked, and she had a date with her, and was obviously planning to do the same thing we were, and have been doing for six months, give or take. We've stopped seeing each other once or twice. I'm sure this won't help.”

“You and Liam?” Marcie looked like Sasha had hit her on the head with the poker. “You and Liam?”

“Does it sound as bad as that?” Sasha looked mortified again. The past three days had been the most humiliating of her life. And now Marcie looked shocked, and Sasha was sorry she'd told her.

“Bad? Are you kidding? If I could land a guy like him, I'd be a believer forever. He's gorgeous, talented, and nice. What else do you want? What does she want? Maybe she's jealous.”

“She's not jealous. She hates him. She doesn't like artists, she's met so many crazy artists over the years, she thinks they're all flaky, and most of the time she's right. So is he sometimes. But I'm in love with him, and he says he's in love with me. And now Tatianna wants to kill him, and she'll probably never speak to me again.”

“Of course she will. Why have I not been able to figure this out?” Marcie said, feeling stupid. “How blind and dumb am I?”

“We've been trying to keep it quiet, until we figure it out ourselves. It's actually been working very well now since April, but that's only three months.”

“What are you afraid of?” Marcie asked her gently. Sasha had shared private matters with her before, and she always gave her employer wise counsel.

“Are you kidding? He's twelve years old. I look like his mother, and I don't want to be one, except to my own children.”

“First of all, you don't look like his mother, you don't even look old enough to be Xavier's mother, or Tatianna's, and secondly, all men are babies, and every woman in the world ends up mothering them. If you don't, they run off with someone else who will.”

“Or another twelve-year-old. I don't want to fall in love with a man who is going to run off with a twenty-year-old ten years from now. It could happen.”

“Is he like that?” Marcie looked worried.

“Who knows? I don't think so. He was married for twenty years before he screwed it up pretty stupidly. But he's also irresponsible as hell … as he puts it, he's a wacky artist.” Although less so lately. “I never thought I'd fall in love with a man nine years younger than I am, and one of my artists. This is like poetic justice, or God's irony, or some kind of joke or something. I had the most respectable life in the world with Arthur, and now I have fallen in love with an overgrown boy, and my whole life is upside down. And Tatianna may never speak to me again.”

“If she doesn't, I'll spank her for you myself. She'll get over it. The whole scene was probably just a shock. For everyone.” Sasha smiled ruefully as she looked at her friend. It was beyond description.

“We were both standing there naked, Liam holding the poker, while she screamed insults at us, and her date looked like he wanted to crawl under the rug, and who could blame him? I slapped her, she slapped me back. I've never laid a hand on her before, and never will again. It was something right out of a bad movie. Here I am, with my younger lover, in her father's bed, as she put it, and we're both standing there naked. My God, Marcie, how much worse could it get?”

“Not much,” Marcie conceded with a grin. “But think of it this way. He could be old, fat, bald, ugly, and over the hill, and then think of what he would have looked like standing there naked, holding the poker. If you ask me, you're goddamn lucky it's him. Listen, you've been single for about ten minutes. I've been single all my life, and probably always will be, not because I love it so much, but because there's no one out there. There are either bitter divorced guys paying alimony they resent all women for, screwed-up widowers who think their dead wives were perfect and have forgotten how much they hated them when they were alive, and you can never in a million years measure up to them, there are commitment phobics, drunks, druggies, mean guys, abusers, guys who hate women, guys who are secretly gay, and others who are openly gay and want to wear your dresses, there are boring ones who aren't worth the trouble, guys who smell bad, look bad, are bad, and old guys who can't get it up even with Viagra. I haven't found a guy I could fall in love with in ten years, and I haven't gotten laid in three. I long ago gave up the idea of being in love with the guys I sleep with, or having them be in love with me. Because if I hold on to my principles, which used to be so important to me, then for sure I'm never going to get laid again, and I might not anyway. It sure looks that way. So you're worried about a nine-year age difference with a gorgeous, talented, nice guy you're in love with and who's crazy about you? Tell Tatianna to put a sock in it and get over it. If you don't, I will.”

It was quite a speech, and Sasha knew it was heartfelt. Marcie was a wonderful woman, not beautiful, but nice looking, decently dressed, a dozen pounds overweight, though nothing one couldn't live with. She was intelligent, well educated, and well paid, and one of the nicest people Sasha had ever known. She also knew that Marcie hadn't had a man in her life in years. There was nothing wrong with her, she just couldn't find one. And no one had bothered or tried to find her. There were a lot of women like that, they both knew, in all walks of life, at every social level, and at every age. People couldn't seem to find each other anymore, which was why computer dating had become so appealing. Sasha had urged Marcie to try it several times, but she was too scared. Sasha wasn't totally convinced she was wrong. Meeting up with strangers on the Internet sounded dangerous to her. What she was saying to Sasha was sensible, and Sasha knew she meant well. She thought Sasha was the luckiest woman in the world to have Liam, and he was the luckiest man to have her. And if Tatianna didn't like it, then too bad for her. Marcie looked incensed when she heard the things Tatianna had said to her mother.

“You really don't think it's shocking that I'm nine years older?” Sasha asked cautiously, still looking sheepish. She was grateful to know that Marcie approved.

“He's not twenty-two, for God's sake. He's legal, he's grown up. He's got kids. You two look the same age. And besides, these days lots of people seem to be doing it. After a certain age, it seems to make sense. You've had a respectable marriage, you've had your kids. You're not looking for the same things now that you were twenty-five years ago. All you need is someone you can have a good time with, who treats you right, and with whom you have something in common, whatever it is. And you two certainly do. You don't have to be together every minute, you don't have to live together if you don't want to. Or you can, if you do. You can have your own lives, your own friends, and get the best out of what you share in between. It sounds great to me. And listen, if you don't want him, I'll take him. He's only three years younger than I am. I'd be happy to suffer the humiliation of going out with him. In fact, I'd be thrilled.” Sasha was no longer crying as she listened to her. She was smiling. Marcie had made her feel that everything was okay, and would be. It made her realize how lucky she was to have him, and how little it was probably going to shock most people. Everything Marcie said made sense. To hell with the nine years. If he was a wacky artist, she could deal with that. Besides, he was behaving perfectly these days.

“What am I going to do about Tatianna?” Sasha asked her, looking serious again.

“Nothing. Just let her cool down. She obviously felt you betrayed her father. You know how crazy she was about him. She thought he walked on water. He was a wonderful man, but let's face it, Sasha, he's gone, sad as that is, and he isn't coming back. I have a feeling that he'd be relieved to know you're happy, if you are. He was one of the nicest men I've ever met. I don't think he'd want you to be alone. Tatianna just has to grow up, and get over it. Give her some space for a while, she will. She can't fight this battle forever.” Although Sasha knew she could be stubborn, and her loyalty to her father could be blind, fierce, and unlimited. It had been in her teens. And now that he was gone, she loved him even more. It was her way of holding on to him. But giving her space was not a bad idea.

“I've left her a million messages. She won't return or take my calls.”

“Then leave her alone. She may be embarrassed about what she said. She should be. How did Liam survive the ordeal?”

“Very graciously,” Sasha said. “He was very understanding about it. She called Xavier, and he called us on Sunday morning. He was incredibly sweet to both of us. He loves Liam, they're friends, which is how I met him in the first place. He's been trying to calm Tatianna down. Xavier, not Liam. Liam is scared to death of her now, which is going to complicate things even more. It must have been a hell of a shock to him.”

“Make nice on him, he'll be fine.” Half an hour later, after they'd finished talking, he walked into her office, and when Marcie saw him pass her desk, she looked up and smiled. She wanted him to at least feel welcome there. He'd had a tough weekend.

“Hi, Liam,” Marcie said with a friendly wave. He returned the smile, looking grateful.

“Hello, Marcie,” he said, as he walked into Sasha's office and closed the door, with a worried look. “How did it go today?” he asked as he kissed her.

“Fine.” She didn't tell him about her talk with Marcie. That was girl talk, but it had reassured her a great deal.

“Did you hear from Tatianna?” He had worried about it all day, while he hung out with friends in Tribeca.

“No. I think I'll just let her cool off for a while.”

“Good idea.” He was impressed by how sensible Sasha was being. She looked like she had calmed down a lot since that morning. “I got baseball tickets for tonight. How does that sound?” He wanted to make her feel better, it was all he could think of to distract her.

“Wonderful.” She looked up at him and smiled. She would rather have gone to a movie, or had a quiet dinner somewhere with him, or even a noisy one at La Goulue, but she knew how much baseball meant to him, and she was happy to do it for him. After talking to Marcie, she was more grateful than ever to be with him, and to have him in her life.

At forty-nine, she knew from other women that there just weren't a lot of men out there for her. The options Marcie had described, or the lack of them, sounded comical, but they were real. Liam was wonderful and the proverbial needle in the haystack, and she was going to hang on to him whether her daughter liked it or not.

Chapter 15

Liam and Sasha spent the Fourth of July weekend in Southampton. It was blazing hot and sunny every day. They cooked, went out to dinner, lay on the beach, swam, and on the Fourth they were invited to a big party that night. It was a barbecue given by people she knew, but not well, and they both agreed it sounded like fun. She had accepted, and at six o'clock that night they went, in jeans and T-shirts and sandals, just as the invitation said. She had bought them both red, white, and blue bandanas, and they tied them around their necks. He smiled when he looked at her as they went out. He said he was the happiest he'd ever been.

“Now we look like twins,” he commented, which was funny. He was as fair as she was dark, he was tall, she was tiny, and she was beginning to forget about their age. Marcie and Xavier had both helped a lot, giving her their approval and support. She hadn't heard from Tatianna since their horrifying encounter in Southampton the week before. Sasha was still letting her cool off.

There were two hundred people at the party, long tables of food, a giant barbecue, line dancers to entertain everyone, and a tent filled with carnival games. Everyone was having a ball, and so were they.

They were sitting next to each other on a log, eating hamburgers and hot dogs, when Sasha realized for the first time that Liam was slightly drunk. Not disgustingly so, but just enough to be slightly out of control. Halfway through dinner, he said he was hot, took off his shirt, and threw it in the fire, with a grin at Sasha. The uncontrollable boy in him began to emerge, and as the night wore on, it got worse. Much worse. She tried to get him to go home with her, but he insisted he was having fun and wanted to stay. By then he was too drunk to notice she wasn't enjoying herself at all. He had started out with rum punch, switched to beer, and then wine with dinner. Afterward someone suggested he try a mojito, and she was horrified to watch him down three of them, without pausing for breath. By then, he was truly smashed. Worse yet, she wasn't. She was cold stone sober, and getting more upset by the minute, which he didn't notice either. He was having too much fun.

The line dancers came back on then, he leaped up to the dance floor and grabbed one of them, the youngest and the prettiest of course, and proceeded to do a sexy dancing act on the dance floor, while the girl he was dancing with got into it and unzipped his jeans. They did nothing more exotic after that, but that was enough for Sasha. She could see the looks of amusement and disapproval all around her, and when he walked back to her afterward, he zipped up his jeans, kissed her hard on the mouth in front of everyone, and grabbed her bottom in both hands, which left nothing to anyone's imagination as to what their relationship was. She had introduced him prior to that as one of her artists visiting from London.

“What's the matter, baby?” he asked her, looking bleary and slurring his words. She was ready to kill him, and all she wanted to do was leave. It hadn't been lost on her that the girl he'd been dancing with looked like she was in her teens, and was probably no more than twenty, younger than her daughter.

“I want to go home, Liam,” she said quietly. She didn't want to lose her temper with him, but she didn't want to stay either. He was out of control, and getting worse by the minute. He ordered a screwdriver then, and she took it away from the waiter when it came.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, trying to grab for it. But sensing what was happening, the waiter just put it back on the tray and disappeared.

“You've had a lot to drink already. I think it's time to go home.”

“You can't tell me what to do,” he said, lurching as he stood before her. He nearly fell into her arms, and then tried to get amorous again. She gave him a quelling look, but there was obviously no getting him to leave. He was having a ball. “I'm not your child,” he said, as he put an arm around her shoulders.

“Then don't act like one,” she said in an undertone.

He was behaving like a juvenile delinquent, or at the very least, a drunk.

“You can't control me,” he repeated, and she nodded, as people continued to glance at them and then look away. She heard one man comment that Liam was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, while another laughed. She knew them both. They were friends of Arthur's, which didn't help.

“Liam, I'm tired, I want to go home,” she said, pleading with him.

“Then take a nap. You can wait in the car. I want to party. I'm having a hell of a good time.” He lurched forward again and, much to her horror, disappeared into the crowd. She found him again, sitting astride the horse they were using to pull the hayride. The horse was getting skittish, and the handler was asking him to get off, to no avail. He had completely stopped the ride, as people around them watched. It finally took three men from the catering staff and the host to get him off. He had been shouting “Yippee-kie-yay!!!” while kicking the horse. She wanted to kill him.

Their host helped her get him back to the car. He passed out in the front seat, and she drove him home. She couldn't wake him up when they got there, and she left him to sleep it off in her car. She felt him slip into bed with her at seven o'clock the next morning. When she got up at nine, he was dead to the world. He didn't come downstairs till noon, wearing dark glasses and complaining about how bright the sun was. She said nothing as she sat in the kitchen and read the paper, while he poured himself a much-needed cup of coffee. He came to sit down next to her a few minutes later, and she finally looked up and said good morning. Her tone was like ice.

“That was quite a party last night,” he said, trying to sound casual as she stared at him. “I guess I had a lot to drink, judging by the size of my hangover today.” He laughed. She didn't.

“Yes, you did” was all she said.

“How bad was it?” he asked cautiously. He didn't remember a great deal about the night before. She did.

“Very bad,” she answered, listing his exploits. Among them, she mentioned his grabbing her behind, which had blown their cover forever among her acquaintances and friends. “My favorite, of course, was the incident with the horse. You looked absolutely charming, scaring the horse and the children, playing cowboy and shouting 'Yippee-kie-yay.' I think everyone from here to Chicago heard you.” She was not amused, nor was he. He didn't want to be treated like a child, or scolded by her. He was an adult, and could behave any way he wanted, or so he said. He told Sasha he'd been behaving sensibly for a long time. He needed to let some steam off.

“I told you, Sasha. You can't control me. My family tried to, and I'm not going to let you do that to me. Everyone needs to let their hair down sometimes. So fucking what if I did?” He was being extremely defensive, and felt like shit.

“You embarrassed me,” she said, looking at him. He had started to push the dial toward impossible again, and it had been going so well. She was willing to stand up beside him, and go out into the world with him, even her world, but not if he behaved like this, and claimed rights of total freedom just because he was an artist. If he didn't want to be controlled, then he had to learn to police himself. “I'm not going to go out with you if you act that way,” she said sadly, even more upset about it because he wasn't in the least remorseful.

“Then don't,” Liam said, sounding belligerent. “You sound just like my father, and I'm not going to take that shit from you. You can't punish me and leave me home because I have a few drinks at a party.”

“You had a few dozen drinks, and you saw to it that everyone in the place who cared to watch knew that we're involved with each other.”

“I'm tired of keeping it a secret.” It had become less and less of a secret during the month they'd been in New York. Bernard knew before that. Marcie knew. Tatianna knew. Xavier knew. And God only knew who else suspected. As long as he behaved, she was willing to come out of the closet with him eventually, but not if he acted like that.

“Then act like a grown-up, and it won't have to be a secret.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn't want to keep this a secret.” He sounded like a wounded child, which was how he felt. He wanted her approval, and for her to be proud of him, not ashamed.

“I do love you, but I'm not going to let you make a spectacle of me. It's tough enough with our difference in age. I need time to get used to that. You seem to need time to grow up.”

“For chrissake, Sasha, nine years is nothing. Give that one up. I am grown up. I'm an artist, and a free spirit. I'm not going to be trained like some circus dog, so you can impress your friends and appease your daughter. Either you love me as I am, or you don't.”

“Is that what this is about? Tatianna? Liam, she needs time to settle down. This was a huge shock for her. She thinks I betrayed her father. She adored him. This was a tremendous blow for her. And your acting like a savage at parties is not going to help convince anyone that this is a viable relationship, least of all me.” He didn't say a word to her, just strode out of the kitchen and slammed the door. She saw him from the living-room windows, walking down the beach. They were both upset. The night before had been awful. The worst part was, they were both going back to Europe the next day, she to Paris and he to London. They had no time left to bridge the gap and repair the damage if they got into an argument on their last day.

He was still sulking when they drove back to town that night. And when she offered to cook him dinner, he said he wasn't hungry. After all he'd had to drink the night before, she suspected he probably wasn't. She cooked him some pasta anyway, and as they sat at the table together, he finally started to relax.

“I'm sorry I acted like an ass last night. It was stupid. I don't know, I'm not used to all these responsibilities and restrictions. I don't want to have to act a certain way to get your approval and everyone else's. I just want to be me, and have you love me the way I am. Hell, Sasha, sometimes I just want to go have a beer with the doorman. He seems like a nice guy.”

“I'm sure he is. I'm sorry my life feels so restrictive to you.” She looked sad about it. It was the kind of thing she had been worried about from the beginning, with his phobia about being “controlled.” Any kind of expectations or civilized behavior felt like control to him. But that was what her life was all about. She couldn't do whatever she wanted. And if he was with her, neither could he. He was finding it very hard to live with, just as she had feared. Maybe this wasn't possible after all. “I don't know what to say, Liam. I don't want to make you unhappy. But you can't go crazy anytime you want.” Fortunately, it had been the only time it happened, but it was a biggie. For both of them. He had been trying to prove a point. Or just lost control, big time.

“What happens when we go back?” he asked, looking worried. He didn't want to lose her because of the way he had behaved the night before. But he didn't want her telling him how to act either. He wanted her unconditional love and acceptance, and said so. But sometimes that was hard to give between adults, particularly if doing so cost too much. And in her opinion, it did. It was a dilemma for both of them, a serious one. In order to prove her love for him, she had to put herself at risk. If it didn't work out between them in the end, people would laugh at her forever, or so she thought. That bothered her a lot. She wanted to stay discreet until they figured it out. The restrictions that put on him were driving him nuts, and injuring his already damaged self-esteem. If they stayed together, he wanted to know he had the freedom to be himself. All she wanted from him was to grow up. It was the one thing he didn't want to do and never had. And underlying all of it was her concern about her daughter's reaction to him. Undeniably, Tatianna and Liam were off to a bad start.

“I'm going to be working in Paris for the rest of July,” she said, in answer to his question about when they went back. “You can come over whenever you want. I leave with the kids on August first.”

“And then what?” he asked, and she looked blank, she didn't know what he meant.

“What happens when you leave with the kids?”

“I told you. We're going to St. Tropez, and I've chartered a boat. I'll be gone for three weeks. We can go somewhere after that, if you want. I have to be back in New York for a week or so in September. You can come then too, if you like. But you should probably be getting ready for your show.” She sounded like his mother and his dealer, it was the position he put her in sometimes, instead of just the woman he loved, and who loved him.

“What about when you're with the kids? Am I welcome there, too?” he asked, looking both hurt and belligerent again. They had talked about his joining them on the boat for a few days of the trip, especially since Xavier would be there too, and Liam could masquerade as just his friend, or could have, but not now. All of that was before Tatianna had walked in on them naked in Southampton, and all hell broke loose. Now both her children knew who he was, and his role in her life.

“Liam, after what happened with Tatianna, you can't expect to come with us. That's going to take time to calm down.” Sasha still hadn't spoken to her herself. Tatianna was still refusing to take or return her calls, and Sasha had finally sent her a note, hoping to make peace with her. She had heard nothing from her yet. As far as Sasha knew, the war was still on. And Xavier knew nothing different. Sasha had spoken to him several times. He still thought Tatianna would calm down, but she hadn't yet. He said she was being juvenile and stubborn, and had accused her of being a brat. So now she was angry at him too.

“Maybe you need to stand up to her, and tell her the lay of the land,” Liam said, looking annoyed. He was furious with Sasha's daughter, and she didn't blame him. But she didn't want to risk a permanent rift with her daughter over him.

“I need to talk to her first, before I can explain anything to her.”

“And will you do that? Are you willing to stand up for me, or are you just going to let her kick me around, while you kiss her ass?”

“Liam, that's not fair,” Sasha said, with tears stinging her eyes. “She's my daughter. I'm not willing to lose her over this, even for you. I need to make peace with her first. And we need to see how this works out. If it does, I'll deal with her. But nothing is sure yet.” He knew it himself, but didn't want to admit it to her.

“How long do you expect me to audition for you?” he said, as he stood up and looked down at her, and she looked up at him.

“You're not auditioning. We're trying to see if this can work. There are a lot of differences between us. It's not an obvious fit.”

“I thought it was,” he said, and then walked out of the kitchen. He packed his things in the guest room, while she was packing hers. She wondered if he would sleep with her that night, and was relieved when he did. They didn't make love, they just held each other. Sasha fell asleep, and Liam lay awake most of the night, staring up at the ceiling with a look of grief. It broke his heart that she wasn't willing to stand up for him, or defend him to Tatianna. He had promised her in April that he would keep their affair a secret, for a while anyway. But when he did, he had had no idea how much doing so would hurt him. As he lay in bed that night thinking about all of it, his agony was acute.

Chapter 16

Sasha and Liam flew back to Europe separately, she to Paris, he to London. They got back at roughly the same time, and she called him that night. He sounded distant. They talked for a little while, and he promised to come to Paris that weekend. She wondered if he would. He sounded unhappy with her now. Tatianna had hurt him, and the relationship, badly. She had also hurt her mother. But Sasha was not willing to wage war on her for Liam. Tatianna was her daughter, and had a birthright to the unconditional love he wanted from her. Liam didn't.

He had dinner with Xavier that week, and discussed it with him, but Xavier had had an easier childhood and youth than he had. He had had wonderful parents who he knew loved him. Liam didn't, and had the scars to prove it. They were costing Sasha now, just as whatever she had suffered in her youth inevitably cost him. Their differences in age and lifestyle didn't help either. Sasha was back to wondering again if their love affair was possible. She wanted it to be, but not if she had to ally with him against her daughter. For her, that was too high a price to pay for loving him.

He drove to Paris on Friday night, and they spent a peaceful weekend together. He stayed for the fourteenth of July, and they watched the parade on the Champs Elysées. He thought it was fun but said he missed the Yankees. He also missed his kids. He had wanted to see them again before he left the States, but they were away on a trip with Beth, and he had promised to visit them again in September.

The gallery was always quiet in July, and she was looking forward to her vacation with the children. She said as little as possible about it to Liam, so as not to rub salt in his wounds about not being invited. Tatianna was finally speaking to her again, though barely. Sasha had talked to Xavier, and he had agreed with her that it was probably a better idea if Liam didn't join them on their vacation. More than likely, it would drive Tatianna right over the edge again, and result in a confrontation. Xavier had said as much to Liam, he told his mother. Tatianna wasn't being reasonable, and only time would help the situation. She was obsessed about Liam's existence in Sasha's life being a disrespect to her father.

On their last weekend before the trip, walking in the Bois de Boulogne with the dog, Liam turned to look at Sasha.

“What are you going to do about your vacation?” The question took her by surprise. She thought they had settled it, although neither of them liked the sacrifice they would be making. She wanted him along too, but it was out of the question. As it turned out, he had been waiting for her to change her mind, or Tatianna's. The fact that she hadn't, he interpreted and felt as the ultimate betrayal by Sasha. She was failing to defend him and stand by him. It seemed childish and unreasonable to her. But it was a deal-breaker to him.

“What do you mean? What am I going to do? I thought we agreed that it won't work this year.” If they stayed together, and she hoped they would, there would be other vacations. This one just wasn't going to work. She needed time to work things out with Tatianna.

“You're not going to confront her, are you?” Sasha sighed and looked up at him. His face looked like granite.

“Not now. I will later, if I have to. I hope I don't have to do that. She'll get used to the idea of us in time. Sometimes even adults have a hard time getting used to their parents dating other people.” Sasha attributed it to that and not the horrifying scene at the house in Southampton, which had certainly been an unpleasant way to introduce him to her daughter.

“She'll never accept me, if you don't make her.” He looked stubborn.

“She only started talking to me again last week,” Sasha said sadly. One of them was going to lose here. She didn't want it to be them. “I can't cram this down her throat, Liam. She needs time.”

“She's acting like a brat,” he said truthfully, but unkindly. Sasha knew it, too. But Tatianna was still her daughter. He said it with a nasty tone in his voice, which annoyed her.

“So are you,” she said softly. He walked away from her then, to play with the dog. On the drive home, he said nothing. He looked petulant and angry, a small boy furious with his mother. A man betrayed by his lover.

She was cooking dinner for them, when he came downstairs with his backpack in his hand and walked into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she asked, as fear darted up her spine. She knew before he answered.

“I'm leaving. I'm not going to be treated like a dirty little secret by you, and humiliated by your daughter.”

“Liam, please…,” she said, as panic filled her voice. “Give us a chance. We knew right from the beginning this would take time. And you're not a secret.” Tatianna knew, which was the problem.

“No, I'm a disgrace. You're ashamed of me.” They both thought of the Fourth of July barbecue when he said it, and Sasha didn't answer.

“I'm not ashamed of you. I love you. But you're asking me to choose between you and one of my children. That's not fair. Don't ask me to do that.” There were tears in her eyes when she said it. He was asking her to do the impossible for him, and dooming them if she didn't.

“That's what it takes sometimes. I need you to love and respect me. You don't.”

“If you loved and respected me, you wouldn't ask me to choose between you and my daughter.” He stood and looked at her and said nothing. And then finally he spoke again, as he picked up the backpack.

“It's over, Sasha. I'm done. We've used up all our tickets. You were right in the beginning. It is impossible. I guess it always was. I thought we could do it. I was wrong, and you were right.” She didn't want to be right. She wanted to be wrong. She wanted that more than ever. It felt as though they had come so close this time. Until he gave her this awful choice.

She started to come toward him, and he put up a hand to stop her. “Don't! I love you. I'm going back to London. Don't call me. It's over.” And then the final cruelty. “Give my best to Tatianna. Tell her she won.” Without another word, he walked out of her house. He closed the door quietly this time. She heard the big bronze outer door bang shut shortly after, as she stood alone in her kitchen, staring after him, at the spot where he had been standing only moments before, as tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn't felt as terrible about anything or anyone since she lost Arthur.

She sat down on the kitchen floor, next to the dog, and stroked her as she sobbed. Socks was all she had left of him now. He was gone, back to his own life, and she knew he meant it this time.

She sat there crying for a long time in the dark kitchen. She didn't bother to turn on the lights. She just sat there, crying, and whispered one word into the darkness. “Impossible.” By then, Liam was on the road to London, convinced of the same thing.

Chapter 17

The time in St. Tropez would have been fun for her, if her heart hadn't been aching when they got there. Xavier knew instantly when he arrived and met her at the Byblos Hotel, where they were staying, that something terrible had happened. He hadn't seen her look like that since the awful time twenty-two months before, when his father died. Xavier had suspected as much when he ran into Liam in a pub the night before he left, with a beautiful young girl. Liam had been kissing her, and was extremely drunk. Xavier felt his heart drop into his stomach. He knew then it must have ended between Liam and his mother. Except for the single slip that led to his divorce, Liam was no cheater. If he was out with another woman, openly, it was over with Sasha.

“Did you two have a fight?” Xavier asked her quietly, as they had a Pernod on the terrace.

“He wanted me to have a showdown with Tatianna. I told him it was too early. He wanted to come on the vacation. Maybe he's right. But I'm not willing to jeopardize my relationship with her. He wanted too much too soon. I couldn't do it. She's not ready. I think this is about his history with his family. All his life they told him he wasn't good enough, and shut him out. He thought I was saying the same thing. I wasn't. I just wanted some time for Tati to calm down after Southampton. And this vacation was too soon.” He acted like a child sometimes, and they both knew it. He was, in some ways. A brilliant, talented child who acted out when he felt rejected. The worst part of it was that she knew she loved him. But she loved her daughter more.

“It was stupid of him,” Xavier said, looking annoyed. At twenty-six, he was a lot more mature than Liam. “I told him the same thing you did. All he had to do was relax, and give it time.”

“I guess he couldn't.” The echoes of his past were still too strong, and maybe always would be. At a certain age, people who loved each other had to accommodate each other's baggage, and if they couldn't, it didn't work. It hadn't for Liam.

Without thinking, Xavier glanced at his mother then. “I saw him the night before I left London. He was in a pub, drunk out of his mind. It didn't seem like the right time to ask him any questions, but I knew something had happened.” The way he said it told her more than he intended. As she looked into her son's eyes, she asked him a question that would tell her all she needed to know.

“Was he alone?” She could hardly get the words out. She felt a vise squeezing her chest, and Xavier didn't answer for what seemed like a long time, and then shook his head.

“He was with some stupid girl. He probably met her at the pub. It doesn't mean anything, Mom. He was drunk. I'm sure he didn't know her.” Xavier didn't tell her Liam had been kissing her, and she looked about twenty-two years old. But even with what he did say, she felt a knife go right through her heart. It really was over. After that, the rest of the trip was an agony for her. It would have been anyway. It wasn't Xavier's fault. Liam was gone. It was all she could think of.

They spent two weeks in St. Tropez, seeing friends, going to the beach and restaurants at night. They had lunch at Club 55. They had drinks at the Gorilla Bar, and once Tatianna arrived, she and Sasha checked out the shops. Sasha looked agonized from morning till night, and Tatianna didn't seem to notice. Neither of them ever mentioned Liam. And Xavier didn't dare bring him up again. He could see how miserable his mother was from the look in her eyes, even when she tried to be a good sport and pretend otherwise, which she did most of the time. And when she went to her room at night, she cried herself to sleep. She missed him beyond belief. She knew there was absolutely nothing she could do to bring him back. All she could do now was accept it. She couldn't call and invite him to St. Tropez. Tatianna would have walked out. Sasha didn't want to risk it.

They were invited out by friends several times, and Sasha agreed to go when they had children the age of her own, or were clients. But having to sit there and talk to people made her want to crawl out of her skin. She had never felt like that in her life. After Arthur's death, she had remained in seclusion for months. Now she was out in the world, pretending to be fine, which was almost unbearable for her. Nothing she did gave her relief. Day and night she ached for Liam, and knew she couldn't have him. She didn't call, and he never called her. Night after night she imagined him in bars, chasing young women. She felt half-crazed with grief by the time they got on the boat they'd chartered. It was a relief when they pulled up anchor, left St. Tropez, and headed out to sea.

Xavier and Tatianna had both invited friends, at her suggestion. They all enjoyed each other. She didn't need to entertain them. She could lie on deck with her eyes closed, near the bow of the boat, thinking of him, and aching with grief. She stayed on board when the young people went ashore at night. She said she didn't want to spoil their fun. In truth, she just didn't have the strength to talk to anyone. She needed time to grieve.

They went to Portofino, and she went ashore there for a short time. They had dinner at the Splendido, and she agreed to go with them that one time. But in spite of her best efforts, she looked so miserable that night that Tatianna asked her brother what was wrong with her after her mother went back to the boat, claiming a headache.

“Is Mom sick?” Tatianna asked, oblivious to the damage she had caused, or acting as though it had never happened. Xavier wasn't sure which.

“No,” Xavier said unhappily, “she's miserable. I haven't seen her like this since Dad died.” Tatianna didn't answer, as Xavier looked at her accusingly. “You made things awfully hard for her, Tat. She didn't deserve it. She and Liam broke up before she came to St. Tropez.” He was sad for both of them, and believed they genuinely loved each other, whatever their age. Liam had looked crazed too the night he saw him. He just expressed it differently than Sasha. He acted out, and she went inward with her grief. Tatianna showed no remorse when he said it.

“She's better off. He was a creep,” Tatianna said, and Xavier wanted to slap her.

“That's a rotten thing to say. Why would you want her to be miserable?” He was furious with his sister. “I told you, he's a nice guy, and he loves her. And obviously she loves him. What are you going to do now? Sit and keep her company? Hell, no. You have your own life. So do I, and she's alone again.” He was livid, and distraught for his mother.

“She loves Daddy,” Tatianna said stubbornly.

“She did. Now she loves Liam.”

“She was making a fool of herself, and he was probably laughing at her anyway. Besides, it was a shitty thing to do to Dad.”

“She didn't do anything to Dad. He's dead, Tat. He's not coming back. She has a right to have a life, whether you approve or not. The reason they broke up is because she didn't want to upset you, and invite him here. You owe her an apology. Maybe it's not too late for her to fix it. They love each other. They have a right to that. And you don't have a right to interfere.”

“I don't want her to fix it,” Tatianna said, looking devastated.

“After everything she does for us, how can you be so selfish?” He wanted to strangle his sister for her attitude and lack of compassion for their mother, who was obviously suffering the agonies of the damned over Liam, which more than convinced Xavier of how much she loved him.

“Maybe I did her a favor.”

“You should have your ass kicked. He's right, you are a brat.”

“Is that what he said?” She looked furious again when he said it. “He stood there with his dick hanging out, ready to club me, after screwing our mother,” she said in what she felt was righteous outrage. Xavier just thought she was being a bitch, and said so, which only made her madder.

“You're disgusting. Maybe he should have clubbed you. You deserve it,” Xavier said angrily. Tatianna stomped off in a huff after that, and Sasha noticed the next day that they weren't speaking to each other. She had no idea why. It didn't even occur to her that they had been arguing over her and Liam. Xavier was even nicer to his mother after that, and Tatianna was more pleasant. She was relieved to know that Liam was out of the picture, and considered it a blessing. She never said anything about him to her mother, and Sasha had decided not to bring it up and upset her again. There was no point now. He was gone. And it hurt too much to talk about it.

They had a nice time on the boat, in spite of Sasha's miseries, and they were all sorry when they pulled into port in Monaco. They had a last dinner on board. The young people went to the casino that night, and Sasha went to bed early. The next morning, they all left. Tatianna flew back to New York, Xavier to London with promises to visit his mother in Paris soon, and Sasha caught a flight to Paris, after the young people had left. It had been a long three weeks for her. She had enjoyed her children, but she was relieved to go home, and crawl into bed with Socks. The house in Paris seemed incredibly quiet and lonely when she got back.

She had nothing to look forward to now, except work, which had kept her going before, after Arthur died. But this seemed harder. When Arthur died, she had no choice but to accept it and adjust, however hard. There was no other option. Now, knowing that Liam was alive and well, working in his studio, and probably chasing young women, it was harder still. There was always the remote chance that he might call her, or come back again, except she knew he wouldn't. He was far too stubborn, and she knew how betrayed he felt over her refusing to confront her daughter. It opened too many old wounds of abandonment and betrayal for him, and she knew he wouldn't get over it. She knew him better than that, and she was right.

She had mentioned to Bernard on her first day back to work that if Liam called, she wanted him to handle it for her. She wasn't going to take his calls. She knew he might call the gallery about his upcoming show at some point, and she couldn't face talking to him. It was too painful.

“Is something wrong?” Bernard asked, with a look of concern. She didn't look well, despite her long vacation. Beneath the tan she'd gotten on the boat, he could see that underneath her eyes were dark circles, and she looked strained. He also thought that she'd lost weight, and she had.

“No.” She started to say something, and then decided to be honest. “It's over.” Her eyes looked grim.

“Oh.” He didn't know what else to say as he looked at her. He could see how unhappy she was. It was in direct proportion to how happy she had been only months before with Liam. “Are we still doing his show in New York?” Bernard wondered.

“Of course. We're his dealers,” she said, sounding professional, and then walked silently into her office and closed the door. The subject of Liam was as closed as the door.

Eugénie noticed how quiet she was too. When Sasha went to New York in September to curate a show, Marcie was worried about her. Sasha steeled herself not to cry when she told her it had ended with Liam. It had been two months now. She felt as though she had been crawling on her stomach across barbed wire since July. She looked exhausted now that her tan had faded. Marcie thought she looked awful, which was how she felt. Everything reminded her of him, everything seemed empty to her without him. Her bed in Paris was too big. The one in New York was an agony. The doorman asked her how he was. As careful as they had been not to tell anyone, everyone asked for him now. Everybody loved him. And worse yet, so did she. Only Tatianna didn't. She never even acknowledged that she knew he was out of her mother's life. In exchange, Xavier called her often, and she always enjoyed talking to her son.

Xavier had seen Liam several times, but he didn't tell his mother that. He didn't mention him at all. Each time he'd seen him, Liam was with a different woman. He seemed to be making up for lost time, and talked a lot about his divorce. He never mentioned Sasha, which made Xavier suspect that he was still in love with her too. His not mentioning her seemed too odd.

Xavier spent a weekend in Paris with her in October. The weather was beautiful, and they had dinner at Le Voltaire, which they both loved. She looked better by then. She had just gotten back from Amsterdam and had signed two new artists. She didn't mention it to Xavier, but she was steeling herself to go to New York for Liam's show. It was still six weeks off. She knew she had six weeks to get strong enough to see him, and not react at all, no matter how she felt. She had decided to be professional about it. She was his dealer after all. Xavier had seen his recent work, and said it was very good. Bernard had flown to London to see his new pieces too. He was very pleased, and thought Sasha would be too.

The show was on December 1st. Sasha and the children had agreed to meet in New York for Thanksgiving, since she had to be at the New York gallery on the Monday after. She was going to curate the show over the weekend. Thanksgiving in Paris never made any sense. It would be more fun for all of them to celebrate it in New York.

Xavier saw Liam just before he left for New York. He stopped by his studio, and there was a young woman there. Xavier had no idea if she was his new girlfriend or not. She looked about twenty-five, and Xavier just prayed he wouldn't take her to New York. It would kill his mother if he did, and he hoped Liam had the good taste not to do that to her, although they both had the right to pursue their own lives now, in whatever ways worked for them. But Xavier knew how painful it would be for his mother to see Liam with another woman. She wasn't seeing anyone. Xavier had asked her over dinner at Le Voltaire, her eyes had filled with tears, and she just shook her head. He didn't mention it again. He had the frightening feeling she had just given up. At forty-nine, it seemed an incredible waste to him, but she seemed to have withdrawn into herself, except when she was at work. The gallery seemed to be the only thing that could distract her, and he was grateful for that.

“See you in New York!” Liam called out happily, as Xavier left. He was excited about his show. He never mentioned Sasha even once.

Sasha and her children had Thanksgiving at the apartment. She and Xavier went to a movie afterward, while Tatianna went out with friends. It was their third Thanksgiving without Arthur, and the least painful one so far. For the rest of the weekend, Sasha was busy with Liam's show.

The work, as they uncrated it, was absolutely wonderful. Sasha stood back and looked at it, and was proud of him. He had done a fantastic job preparing for the show. It all arrived in perfect condition, and she propped it up against the walls around the gallery, as she decided where to hang it. She was still there late on Sunday night, trying to decide which of two spectacular pieces she wanted to hang in the front, so people saw it the moment they entered. She didn't even hear him come in. The door to the gallery was unlocked. Xavier had come by briefly, and Sasha had forgotten to lock it behind him. She was too busy hanging Liam's paintings. She was staring at the two largest paintings, and heard a familiar voice behind her that made her heart pound. It was Liam, fresh off the plane, in a black turtleneck sweater and jeans, the familiar baseball cap, motorcycle boots, and battered black leather jacket. His long blond ponytail hung straight down his back. He looked more than ever like James Dean. And no longer hers. She told herself that as she turned to speak to him in a deceptively calm voice, and met his eyes squarely. It didn't show to him, but it cost her a lot to do so.

“You did a great job,” she said softly. She was his art dealer now, she reminded herself silently, and nothing else. Their eyes held as they stood watching each other from the distance. He didn't approach to kiss her on the cheek. He stood across the gallery and looked at her, and she looked at him. Times had changed. He looked serious and sad and tired, but as beautiful as ever. “You've done an incredible amount of work.” It was impressive.

“I've been busy,” he said quietly.

“I suspected you would be,” she said, and then hated herself for the comment. What he did with his spare time now was no longer any of her business. She seemed flustered when she spoke to him again. “Which one do you like best for the front? I've been standing here for an hour, trying to decide.”

“That one,” he said, pointing to the larger, brighter of the two, without hesitating. “Don't you think?” He still valued her opinion about his work. Her eye was infallible, and he had the greatest respect for what she did and how well she did it.

“Yes, I do. You're right. I've been standing here like a fool, stumped. But you're right.” She carried the painting to where she wanted to hang it, and he stepped forward to help her. The painting was too big for her to carry alone, but she didn't mind. She often worked late at night, hanging paintings on her own, battling with the painting, the ladder, her tape measure, a level, nails, and her hammer. He smiled as she banged the nail into the wall, and then grabbed the painting, as he lifted it up for her. She was as stubborn and determined as ever. Nothing had changed. He was still smiling when she got down to admire her work. “Wow! That looks perfect!”

He nodded, looking at it with the critical eye of the artist, but he was pleased too. “Yes, it does.” He looked around then and was delighted with the way she had curated the show. He had known he would be. As she stood there, looking at him, she was acutely aware that she hadn't seen him in four months and a few days. She tried not to think of it as she walked past him to put her tools away. Just feeling his presence in the same room with her was hard. She still felt the same electric current she always had, but she had to ignore it now, for both their sakes. He seemed to feel nothing at all for her, which was depressing, but she told herself it was probably better this way. This was the only way it could be.

She turned off the lights in the gallery, after he had seen all his work and how she'd hung it, and when they walked outside, she was amazed to see that it was snowing. She had been in the gallery all day and evening, working on his show.

“Where are you staying?” she asked casually, as she set the alarm and locked the door. He followed her out, noticing how tired she looked and how thin she was. Looking at him, and knowing the age of the women he probably went out with, she felt a hundred years old. He thought she looked beautiful, but drawn, and hoped she wasn't sick.

“I'm staying with friends in Tribeca.” He was intentionally vague. He didn't want to get too personal with her. “I'm going to see my kids in Vermont next week, after the show. Beth is getting married on New Year's Eve.” He didn't know why he told her that, but it was nice seeing her again. Nice but weird, for both of them. It was so odd to have loved someone, as they had, and now not even be friends. Just an artist and a dealer. After this show, she had no idea when she'd see him again.

“How are the kids?” she asked, as they both waited for cabs to come by. The snow was sticking to the ground, there were already several inches piled up, and there were no taxis at all. And then finally there was one.

“The kids are fine,” he answered her, and was going to let her have the cab. They were going in opposite directions, and couldn't drop each other off. Sasha didn't want to take a cab with him anyway. Being that close to him would be too hard. But then she realized that it might be another hour before he found another cab. They had waited nearly twenty minutes for this one.

“Do you want to drop me off, and then go on? You could be standing here for hours,” she offered generously. The snow was falling harder and sticking more. If it hadn't been so cold and wet, it would have been pretty to watch. He hesitated and then nodded. What she had suggested made sense to him. So they both got in.

She gave the driver the address, and they both fell silent.

“I hope we don't have a blizzard, it'll be a mess for people coming to the show,” Sasha mused, as she looked out of the cab.

“I like New York like this,” he said, smiling, as he looked at the snow swirling around them. He looked more than ever like a kid, which wasn't unusual for him. “How was Thanksgiving?” he asked politely.

“It was okay. Holidays aren't what they used to be. But it was better than last year and the year before,” she said, referring to Arthur. It had been a lot worse in other ways because of him. And by then, they were at her building, the doorman opened her door, and she got out and thanked Liam for the ride. “See you tomorrow. You'll be a star after this,” she said, smiling at him. And then added, “You already are. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Sasha.” He was grateful to her, even though things hadn't worked out for them.

The cab drove away, and as it did, Sasha bumped into Tatianna, who was coming by to borrow a dress Sasha had promised to lend her for a party that week. Sasha saw her glance into the cab and recognize who it was. On the way up in the elevator, she said nothing, but as soon as she walked into the apartment with her mother, Tatianna looked annoyed.

“Who was that?” Tatianna asked with a nasty tone in her voice, that immediately set Sasha's teeth on edge. She made a point not to react or take the bait Tatianna threw out to her. They hadn't discussed him since July, five months before.

“You know who it was,” she said calmly. “His show is tomorrow.”

“Are you back with him?” Tatianna looked at her mother critically, as though she would be a loser in her daughter's eyes if she was, which annoyed Sasha further. Tatianna had done enough damage. She wasn't going to allow her to do more.

“No, I'm not.” But she wished she were. It was too late for that.

“He probably goes out with girls half your age,” Tatianna said meanly, and Sasha snapped.

“That's enough,” her mother said firmly, in a tone that startled Tatianna. “What he does is none of your business or mine.”

“You're still in love with him, aren't you?” Tatianna accused her, and Sasha faced her square on.

“Yes, I am.”

“That's pathetic.”

“The only thing that's pathetic is that you're mean-spirited enough to say what you just did, carry on this vendetta, and try to dignify it in your father's name. This has nothing to do with him, or you, or even me at this point. Liam is a decent man, Tatianna. It didn't work out between us, and I'm sorry as hell about it. But if you want to rub salt in my wounds, you can leave right now. My life is hard enough, and lonely enough, and miserable enough as it is, without having you make it any worse.” There were tears in Sasha's eyes as Tatianna looked at her, stunned by the power of her mother's reaction. Xavier had told her their mother was in love with him, but Tatianna hadn't wanted to believe him. She thought it was just sex. Now she saw it was much more than that and she hadn't expected Sasha to let her have it with both barrels.

“I'm sorry, Mother,” she said quietly. “I didn't realize you cared about him that much.” She suddenly understood what she had done and what it had cost her mother. She felt guilty for the first time.

“I do care that much, not that it does me any good at this point,” Sasha said honestly, and wiped her eyes as she took off her coat. For the first time since that fateful night in the Hamptons, Tatianna felt truly sorry for her. She never thought about how lonely her mother was.

All she thought about was how much she missed her father, not how alone or unhappy her mother was.

“I just wanted you to be with someone more like Dad,” Tatianna said softly, feeling bad about her comments now, and then she admitted the truth for the first time as tears flooded her eyes. “That's not true.” She corrected herself, “I didn't want you to be with anyone, only Dad.”

“I know,” Sasha said through her own tears as she pulled Tatianna into her arms. “I miss him too, sweetheart, I thought it would kill me when he died. And I didn't expect to fall in love with Liam. It just happened. I didn't want it to, but it did.” She closed her eyes then as they held each other. “It doesn't matter now. It's over.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she said it.

“Maybe he'll come back,” Tatianna said, sorry for her and sincerely remorseful. It had taken a long, long time.

“No. It's impossible,” Sasha said quietly, as Tatianna cried in her arms. “You didn't do it, Tati. If he had really loved me, he'd still be here. It would have fallen apart anyway. It was impossible right from the beginning. You were right.” Sasha smiled sadly at her. “I'm too old for him. I need a grown-up, whatever that is.”

“Daddy was a grown-up,” Tatianna said, looking as sad as her mother. She felt responsible for what had happened.

“Yes, he was. There aren't many of them around.” She remembered Marcie's speech from the summer, about the losers and jerks that were out there. She believed her. She'd met a few herself in the two years of her widowhood. At least Liam had been sincere and honest and loved her, even if he was immature and childish at times. If nothing else, he was decent and kind. The rest of what she'd seen out there wasn't. She knew there was probably a nice guy out there somewhere, but she no longer had the energy or the heart to find him, or trust him. It was just too hard. She didn't want anyone now. She had two men to mourn—Arthur and Liam.

Tatianna kissed her goodnight shortly after that, and left with the dress she'd borrowed, as Sasha thought about what had happened between them that night. Tatianna had started in on her again about Liam, and this time she had called her on it. It was what Liam had wanted from her in July, and she couldn't do then. It had been the right idea at the wrong time. She owed him that, and had finally done it, but when he wanted it, it had just been too soon. Unfortunately for her and Liam, it was way too late now. But she was glad she had done it anyway. Tatianna needed to hear it. And she had needed to say it. As her last gift to him, and to herself, she had finally settled the score for him. It no longer mattered now, but it had been long overdue, and had done her good to say it, and tell Tatianna how much she loved him. It was her last gift to him.

Chapter 18

The snow stopped in the morning, the streets were swept, and the night was crystal clear and icy cold as Sasha dressed for Liam's opening. As she always did, she wore something dark and simple. A plain black cocktail dress this time, with no frills or ruffles. She wanted the emphasis on the paintings, not on her.

Marcie had told Liam to be there at five-thirty, to speak to an art critic. They wanted to take a photograph of him with his work. Guests who had received the invitation had been invited for six o'clock.

Sasha left Marcie to handle Liam and the art critic, and when she emerged from her office, punctual for the opening, the critic and photographer had just left. Liam was standing nervously in the gallery wearing a black suit and white shirt, a dark red tie, serious black lace-up shoes, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and Sasha smiled when she saw that he was wearing black socks. He looked impeccably groomed and dressed, and in spite of herself, her heart gave a little leap. Nothing that she felt for him showed on her face. She was the cool professional art dealer, waiting to steer him through his first major show.

“You look wonderful, Liam,” she said politely, as his eyes took in her figure in the plain black silk dress she'd worn.

“So do you.” He returned the compliment. A waiter offered him a glass of champagne, which he took, and then looked sheepishly at her. “Don't worry, I'll behave.”

“I had no doubt that you would.” She smiled at him demurely.

“No hayrides tonight, I hope,” he said, referring to the barbecue where he had gotten blind drunk and misbehaved so outrageously.

“No,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I thought maybe we'd do sleigh rides after the show.”

He shook his head and groaned at the vague memory of the Fourth of July. “Watch out for the horse.”

She smiled, said nothing, and toasted him. “To the success of your first Suvery show.”

“Thank you, Sasha. To my dealer!” He toasted her as the first guests began to arrive. It was well-organized chaos after that. Hundreds of people wandered through the gallery, to see his work, chatting, talking, laughing, meeting and greeting each other. Introductions, questions, price lists, critics, the curious and collectors mingling to admire his talent. Sasha didn't have a chance to speak to him again all night. She had Marcie standing by to introduce him to people, keep him happy, and make sure he behaved, just in case.

There were no problems, no misadventures, no surprises. The only surprise, and it wasn't to Sasha, was that they sold all but two pieces of his work. He couldn't believe it, he stood staring at Sasha when she told him the good news, and he nearly cried.

“Very impressive, Liam. That hardly ever happens, except with really, really big names. What this means is that they understand and appreciate your work. You should be very proud of yourself.” And then she added, “I am very proud of you.”

Without saying a word, he hugged her, and then looked embarrassed. He was overwhelmed.

“So, now not only are you a talented artist, but you're going to be a rich one sometime soon. Very soon.” She had already decided to raise his prices after the show. “I think you should have a show in Paris now. The market there isn't as lively, but once you have a hit in New York, it usually goes very well there too. We'll talk about it before you leave.”

He still couldn't believe it, and looked shellshocked on the way to La Goulue. Sasha sent him on ahead with Karen and Marcie, while she rounded up the others. Some of the people she'd invited to dinner were his friends, others were clients she wanted to introduce him to, and who had bought his work that night. She had a table for twenty reserved, with Liam at the head, and herself at the opposite end, at the foot. She had surrounded him with his friends. For Sasha, it was awkward being there with him. But she had to do her job now, and do it well, no matter how she felt about him. Several of the artists he'd asked her to invite were women, she had met most of them before, and then, at least, they had only been friends. She had no idea whom he was involved with now, and didn't want to know. The only people her age at the table were clients. The rest of the dinner guests were considerably younger than Liam. Some things didn't change. There was no reason for them to now. He was back in his own familiar world. He no longer needed to make adjustments for her, or even behave himself. But he was very circumspect that night, either because he wanted to be, or in deference to her. This was an important night, and a huge victory for him.

Sasha had an announcement to make at dinner. One of the clients seated at her end of the table had just decided to buy his two remaining paintings. On the opening night, they had sold out his show. Standing at her end of the table, sharing the news with everyone, she toasted Liam again. And this time, he just sat where he was, and looked at her.

He made a garbled toast to her and the client, and said he didn't know what to say, except thank you to everyone, especially Sasha, Karen, Marcie, and the clients who had bought his work. He looked truly undone, and Sasha was touched.

She smiled at him once or twice from her end of the table, but there was no deeper meaning to the looks she gave him. She was just happy for him that the show had been a success. That had been the purpose of their alliance right from the beginning. The rest had just been an added bonus, and never the motivation for her signing him. They had accomplished exactly what she wanted for him: success.

The dinner went on until after midnight, and as she always did, Sasha stayed until the last guest left. She paid the bill, thanked the restaurant, and walked out with Liam into the icy cold crystal-clear December night. It was so cold that when she breathed, it felt like she had needles in her lungs.

“I don't know how to thank you,” Liam said, looking ecstatic. The wines she'd ordered had been excellent, but it was obvious that he hadn't drunk too much. He had been nothing but exemplary all night in every way. He was on his best behavior, and in an odd way, seemed to have grown up.

“You don't have to thank me,” Sasha said simply, “this is what I'm supposed to do. Introduce emerging artists to the world.” That night Liam had definitely emerged. “Besides, I make half the money. I should be thanking you.”

“Thank you for believing in me, and giving me a chance. Wait till I tell the kids,” he said, smiling, and then looked down at Sasha again. In her flat winter boots, standing next to Liam, she looked exceptionally small. “Can I take you for a drink somewhere?” She started to say no, and then nodded. It was probably her last chance. Nothing was going to happen. They were past all that.

They decided to go to the bar at the Carlyle, and chatted in the cab about the show. Liam wanted to know every detail, and what everyone had said. Sasha told him all she knew, everything people had said to her. He lapped it up.

He ordered a brandy when they got to the Carlyle, and she ordered a cup of tea. She had had enough wine at dinner, and the last thing she wanted was to drink too much with him. She didn't want to lose control with him. After this, it would be easier. But this trip was the first time she'd seen him after their torrid affair. She had to find a new way of seeing and dealing with him. Their strictly professional relationship was still new to her.

They chatted for a while about nothing in particular, and then she surprised him and herself by telling him about her conversation the night before with Tatianna. She hadn't intended to tell him, but somehow, before she could stop herself, she did.

“I don't know why I just told you that,” she said, looking embarrassed. “Maybe I wanted you to know I stood up for you after all. Too late for us, but not too late for you. The stupid thing is that Tatianna backed down as soon as I took a hard line with her.” She looked apologetically at Liam. “I just wasn't ready to do it in July. Maybe I should have. And I know it's what you needed me to do. But at least I did it now.” She wasn't telling him to impress him, she just wanted him to know that she had finally defended his honor, and her own.

“It's all right, Sasha,” he said gently. “I understand. You were in a tough spot. We both were. It's funny how those things happen sometimes. Everything collides at once, the past, the present, the future. New people, old people, ghosts from the past. I get confused sometimes between my family and other people. It just hit a lot of buttons for me. She's just a kid, and she's your kid. I should have understood that. I do now. But it took me a long time. Too long,” he said sadly.

“Thank you for being nice about it,” she said with a smile. “I know it was awful for you. It was hard for me, too, but you're right. She's my kid. And the truth is, as far as you're concerned, she's an adult and didn't act like one. Maybe we all act like children sometimes.”

“I make a point of it,” he said with a rueful grin, and they both laughed. “In fact, I take pride in it. I've made a lifetime career of being immature.”

“What brought that on?” she asked, looking amused. He was funny sometimes. As she looked at him, she realized again how much she had missed him in the last four months, and always would.

“Old age, I think. I'm turning forty-one.” Listening to him, she groaned.

“Please, don't tell me your sob stories. I'm turning fifty in May. Shit, how did I get this old?” And this stupid, she wanted to add. Suddenly she wished she had confronted Tatianna in July, but the timing wasn't right for her, and wasn't in the cards at the time.

“You're not old, Sasha. You're still young and beautiful. I don't know why everyone gets so cranked up about their age. I do too. I keep wanting to pretend I'm a kid, and I'm not. I'm growing up, much as I hate to admit it. I don't know why we think youth is so wonderful. If I remember mine correctly, it sucked. So did my judgment then. Things are better now.”

“I wish I could say the same.” She sat back against the banquette and looked at him. It was odd. They had gone from lovers to art dealer and artist, and maybe now, in the end, they'd wind up friends. She could talk to him better and more easily than she could to anyone she knew. Except maybe Xavier. But he was her son. There were things she could admit to Liam that she would never say to him. “Sometimes I think the older I get, the less I know.”

“You know a lot. You're the smartest person I know, about a lot of things. And the best damn art dealer in the world.”

“We make a good team,” she said, and then caught herself, realizing what she'd said, and suddenly embarrassed. She didn't want him to think she was pursuing him. She wasn't. She was making a concerted effort not to, which wasn't easy. “About art, I mean.”

“We didn't do so badly at other things. Most of the time. We just got out of whack sometimes.” It was a mild understatement, from Sasha's point of view. Out of the eleven months they'd known each other, they'd been separated twice, for a total of six months, which meant that most of the time, they didn't get along.

“You're being generous,” she said, and then finished her tea. They had sat in the bar at the Carlyle for two hours. It was time to go home. They couldn't drag it out any longer, the bar was closing.

The doorman hailed a cab for them, and he dropped her off at her place. She would have loved to ask him up, but she knew she couldn't. She would only want him more, and there was no point. That part of their experience with each other was over, for good this time, and they both knew it. There was no hiding from that now. Age hadn't done them in, life had, and values and lifestyle, and Tatianna. Destiny. It wasn't meant to be, no matter how attracted they were to each other, and it was obvious they still were.

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.”

“That's bullshit. It is possible. You just don't want it to be.”

“Why wouldn't I want it to be possible? Why wouldn't I want to be with you if I love you, which I do? I never stopped loving you. You're the one who walked out. I didn't. You're the one who made it impossible, and proved it. You convinced me. I was thinking it was possible right about then, until you went nuts over Tati, although I'll admit, she was awful to you.”

“She was and I was stupid. I don't know, Sasha. What can I tell you? Other than Beth, you're the only woman I've ever loved. Maybe I'm a slow learner, or dyslexic or something. All I know is I get it now.”

“It's too late,” she said sadly. She didn't want it to be, but it was. For both of them. They couldn't do this again, no matter how tempting.

“It's not,” he insisted.

“It is.” She was as stubborn as he. More so this time.

“I'm going to get drunk in a minute if you don't stop arguing with me. You give me no other choice.”

For a minute, she thought he meant it. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, I want you.” He got down on bended knee in her kitchen. They still hadn't made it out of the kitchen, and she laughed at him.

“You look ridiculous, stop that. Get up, for God's sake.”

“I won't till you agree to try again. Oh hell, Sasha, what have we got to lose?”

“Our sanity. Mine anyway. I damn near lost it last time.”

“I won't do that again. I promise.”

“You'll do something else worse. I know you will.”

“Then what? So we'll fight for a while, and figure it out. It's a learning process. I'm a slow learner, but God, woman, I love you.”

“You're impossible.”

“Maybe I am. But this relationship isn't.” He walked over then and did what he had wanted to do all evening, and the night before, and hadn't dared. He kissed her, and put his arms around her. He didn't stop until they were both breathless. “I love you,” he said hoarsely.

“I love you, too,” she whispered. “Please, Liam … don't do this to me.” She was absolutely incapable of resisting him, and she knew it. She wanted him too much.

“Please, Sash, give us a chance …,” he whispered back. She looked at him long and hard, and then as though someone else had done it for her, totally out of her control, she nodded yes, and then closed her eyes.

With a single gesture, he swept her up in his arms, walked into her bedroom, and laid her down on the bed they had shared that summer. She lay watching him while he undressed, wondering at the insanity of what they were doing, and profoundly unable to resist him.

“I think I'm possessed,” she said, as she watched him take off his shoes, and then his pants. “I need an exorcist.”

“I need you,” he said, as he dropped his trousers on the floor and then his shirt. She nearly swooned as she watched him do it, and then he turned off the light. “All I need is you,” he said as he joined her in bed.

“I love you, Liam…we better get it right this time,” she warned as he started to make love to her.

“We will, Sash, I promise.”

They made love as though they were addicted to each other. What they shared was beyond reason, beyond promises, beyond words. All they knew, as they lay together, was that they both believed that it was possible again.

Chapter 20

Sasha woke up in the morning, lying next to Liam, and all she could do this time was laugh. “Tell me I'm dreaming. I must be on drugs … we are both nuts to try this again.”

“Yes,” he said, rolling over on his back with a broad grin, “we are and I love it. Think how boring life would be otherwise.”

“Yeah, and maybe even sane. God knows what that would feel like. I can't remember anymore.”

“Sane is boring,” he said, smiling at her.

“Oh God… don't tell me that…”

“What are we doing today?”

“I don't know about you, Sir Wacky Artist. As for me, I have to work for a living. I have children and artists to support.”

“Not me. I'm sold out,” he said with a look of glee, as he rolled over and kissed her. They were happy again. Life was sweet. “I'll come back here after Vermont.” He had been planning to fly to London from Boston, but now, in the blink of an eye, all his plans had changed. “I can fly back to Paris with you if you want. I don't want to intrude on you and Xavier for Christmas. I can go back to London for a few days.”

“No,” she said firmly, “I want you there. Xavier would love it.” Tatianna wouldn't be there for Christmas anyway. With her father gone now, she found Christmas too depressing with just her mother and brother. But Xavier was ever loyal to her and wouldn't have left her alone. “Liam,” she said, looking serious, as she sat up in bed. She looked as though she had an announcement to make. “I'm not going to lose you this time. I don't give a damn what it takes. I don't want to mess this up again. And if you storm out this time, I'm coming with you. I want you to know that. We'll either make this work or kill each other trying. I'll be goddamned if I'm going to lose again.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He saluted, and marched off to the shower. It was so good seeing him there again, with his tall, gorgeous naked body and his long blond hair.

“I mean it!” she shouted after him as he turned on the shower. “And I'm telling Tatianna today.” She said it as much to herself as to him. She knew Tatianna would be fine with it this time. And this was her life anyway, not theirs.

“I love you,” he shouted back in answer to whatever she'd said. That covered it for him.

She made bacon and eggs and English muffins for both of them. An hour later, he was reading the paper, back in bed, and she was ready to leave for work. He looked like he had never left, and it felt like he hadn't.

“The maid comes at noon,” she reminded him, as she stood smiling at him, with her briefcase in her hand.

“I know. I remember. I'll be up by then. You look very grown up today,” he commented, amused.

“I am.”

“No, you're not. Don't lie to me, Sasha. You're no more grown up than I am. If you were, we wouldn't be doing this.” She was glad they were. Very glad. So was he. Ecstatic in fact. She felt as though she had her life back, what she had back was him. The truth was that she made him grown up, and he made her young. Somewhere in the middle lay the realm of possibility they had been chasing for a year, and seemed to have found. The secret was to keep it. She was ready for the challenge, and so was he. They both knew it wouldn't be easy, but it was worth it to both of them. “Can you have lunch?” She nodded. “I'll pick you up at one. I have to do some errands first. I want to do some Christmas shopping for the kids. What do you think they want?”

“I don't even know them, Liam,” she said, laughing at him. He had moved right back in, and lay there in her bed like a king.

“I want to change that soon. Let's go to Vermont together the next time you come to New York.”

“That's a deal.” There was no secret to their relationship now. If they were going to do this, she knew they had to do it for real, no holds barred. She was prepared to do that now, and so was he. It had taken them a year to get in sync, which wasn't as bad as it might have been. Losing him for four months had shown her just how much he meant to her. And he had discovered the same thing. She kissed him before she left, and he leaped out of bed shortly after. He wanted to buy her a Christmas present too. He was going to do it that afternoon. Not just a gold bracelet this time, something better. He had made a lot of money that week, and he could hardly wait to spend some of it on her.

He picked her up at the gallery at one. They went to Gino's for lunch, and then he walked her back to the gallery, before he went to do his errands. He came back in the late afternoon, and hung around with Marcie, while Sasha finished working with a client. She introduced Liam to him before he left, and said that he was their most promising young artist. She kissed Liam's cheek then, and it was obvious that he was far more than that to her. And not a secret anymore. He was beaming when they left the gallery.

“That was nice, what you just did in there.”

“What? Introduced you to the client?” She knew what he meant, and she was happy he liked it. She knew what it meant to him now to be accepted, and sometimes even shown off. He needed that, and if that was what it took to make him happy, she was willing to do it. More than willing. She wanted to, because she loved him, and knew he loved her.

It was amazing to both of them how quickly it all fell back together, as though they'd never been apart. He moved to her apartment from his friend's in Tribeca. Sasha told Tatianna, and she called Xavier in London. She didn't make a fuss this time. She was leery of Liam, but accepted her mother's decision, and was even willing to give him a chance. She realized now how much her mother loved him.

Everything was back on track, better than it had ever been before. It was as though each time they came apart, when they found each other, the mesh that bound them tightened, and they were closer than ever. She felt almost married to him this time, and he commented on it too. She wondered if they ever would, but it didn't seem important. All that mattered was that they were back together. Their relationship had never seemed more possible than it did at that moment, and she felt absolutely certain that this time they would win and it would stick. She had said as much to Marcie that morning, who was happy for her too.

For the next two days, they had lunches and dinners, went shopping, he hung out at the gallery when she was busy, and they fell into their familiar rhythm of making love night and morning, and once in a while in between. Liam was leaving for Vermont the next morning, his presents for his children were packed. And he had a present for Sasha hidden in a drawer in Xavier's room. He had bought her a narrow diamond bangle bracelet this time, similar to the gold one he'd given her before, but this one sparkled and was far more “grownup.” He could afford it now. He couldn't have in May. Everything had changed after his show. He had some real money coming in finally, and he was anxious to get back to work again.

His cell phone rang late that night after they'd gone to bed, and at first they didn't hear it. It was in the charger Liam had set up in the bathroom, but it was so persistent, Sasha finally heard it and poked him, and told him what it was. He had already been asleep. He stumbled into the bathroom to get it, wondering who it was. It was Beth. And within seconds, he was wide awake, and staring at Sasha, looking panicked.

“How bad is it?” he asked, and was silent for a long time while she explained. Sasha still didn't know who it was. But it didn't sound good, and his face was pale. There were tears in his eyes when he finally hung up.

“What happened?” Sasha looked worried. Calls at that hour, with those kinds of questions, were never good. She sensed instantly it was one of his children.

“It's Charlotte. That was Beth. They went to see the new house her future husband is building for her, it's not finished yet. Charlotte stepped on a tarp that was covering a hole, and she fell an entire floor into a pile of construction materials lying on cement.”

“Oh my God.” Sasha looked as horrified as he was. His hand shook as he set down the phone, and reached for Sasha's hand. He squeezed it so tight it hurt while he told her the rest.

“She broke her back, and they don't know how bad it is yet. She may be able to walk again, or she could be paralyzed from the neck down. They just don't know. She has a head injury, but it's not as bad as the back. She's conscious now, and in a lot of pain.” He started to cry as Sasha held him. He had to leave immediately. He couldn't wait till morning. She called to rent a car for him, and wanted to go with him, but she thought it would be hard on Beth and the other children to have a stranger there. But she wished she could be there for Liam. She knew he needed her.

They were out of the house in less than ten minutes. He had his bag with him, as they took a cab to the car rental she'd called. And half an hour later, he was ready to get on the road to Vermont.

“I wish I could go with you,” she said, and meant it, but he agreed with her. It would be awkward to have her there. They were going to be at Charlotte's bedside in the trauma unit, and he knew Beth would be upset if Sasha was with him.

“I'll call you as soon as I know something,” he said, and held her tight for one last moment. He needed all the strength she had to give him. It was one in the morning, and he had a six-hour drive ahead of him, maybe less if the weather was decent, or more if not. Beth had told him it was snowing where they were.

“I'll be thinking of you every minute,” she said, and kissed him through the window. She waved and he drove away. And a minute later, she caught a cab uptown. She had her cell phone with her, and he called her even before she got back to the apartment. He was very emotional, and cried when he talked to her.

“I love you, Sasha… thank you for being there for me when I need you…”

“I'm right here, darling. I'll be here every minute, praying for all of you.” Poor little Charlotte. It was a miracle she hadn't been killed. Sasha hoped, as he did, that the damage wasn't as bad as they feared. “Drive safely, sweetheart… call me when you get there, if you can.”

He called her several times that night, with bulletins he got from Beth about Charlotte. She was in critical condition, but hanging on. They were going to operate that morning when he got there. Sasha felt sick thinking of what they all had to go through. It was a nightmare. She couldn't think of anything worse than a badly injured child. Liam got there at nine in the morning, as Sasha sat, waiting to hear from him. She'd been up all night, with him. She had talked to him every half hour all night. She hadn't left him for a minute. And when he didn't call her, she called him. She was grateful they were back together, so she could at least support him through the ordeal.

She didn't hear from him then till lunchtime, while Charlotte was in surgery. They said she wouldn't be out till evening. And Liam just sat at the other end and sobbed, when he described the condition she was in. Sasha was in tears herself as she sat at the gallery, waiting for news. The results of the surgery sounded promising. It wasn't quite as dire as they had feared, but it was very bad. And when they had a chance to talk about it, Liam said that the man who was about to marry Beth was beside himself with guilt and grief. Charlotte had been with him, looking at where her room was going to be, and he had turned away for a minute to show her something, and that was when she fell. Liam said that Beth was blaming him, but no more than he did himself. It sounded like an excruciating scene for all of them. Tom, Liam's older son, was flying home from college to be with his sister. At least the family was together, or would be. Sasha was only sorry she couldn't join them. She thought of flying up to stay in a hotel near the hospital, so she could support Liam, but he said they were sleeping in Charlotte's room and on cots in the hallway. He wouldn't have been able to see her anyway. So she stayed in New York, and kept her phone in her hand at all times.

She left the gallery at seven, and stayed close to the phone in her apartment. He called her several times that night. The news was a little better in the morning, after another sleepless night for all of them, Sasha as well as Liam. He said Beth was tense, but decent to him. He said she was half out of her mind. They had to cancel the wedding, which was in three weeks. They were putting it off till January, till they knew how Charlotte was. Everyone's life was suddenly upside down, and Charlotte's still hung in the balance. She was nowhere near out of the woods yet.

The days droned on interminably, and by the end of a week, they knew she wouldn't be quadriplegic, but they still weren't sure about her legs. It all depended on how her spinal cord repaired. There was a distinct possibility that she would walk again, but nothing was certain, and if she did, it would take months or even years to get her on her feet again, and she had several surgeries ahead of her. Sasha hated to ask, but was relieved to hear they had good insurance, otherwise it would have been a financial catastrophe for them as well. It was going to take years and cost a fortune to put the little girl back together, and she had a lot of hard times ahead of her, as did Beth, who would be taking care of her. Liam sounded guilty when he talked about it on the phone. But someone had to take care of Charlotte, and he couldn't be there. He lived in London, and would be with Sasha in Paris. He was worried about missing Christmas with her, but that was the least of their concerns. Listening to him, Sasha decided to spend it in New York. If there was any chance he could get away even for a day to spend Christmas with her, it would be a lot easier to get to her there than in Paris, where she had planned to spend it. And they could manage fine at the gallery in Paris without her, they always did, thanks to Bernard.

She called Xavier and told him what had happened, and he felt terrible for Liam, as she did. Xavier knew Charlotte, he had met her many times before Beth left. It broke his heart to think of her paralyzed, and hoped it wouldn't happen. He told his mother to give his best to Liam, and said he'd go to church to pray for his little girl. Sasha had lit a candle for her only that morning, and had gone to mass to pray for her, which wasn't something she did often.

Xavier offered to come to New York to spend Christmas with her, but it was obvious he wanted to stay in London with his new girlfriend, and she had invited him to go skiing with her, so Sasha let him off the hook. There was no question he'd have more fun there. He said he really appreciated it, and promised to spend it with her next year. Hopefully, by then Tatianna and Liam would be with them. But there was too much going on to worry about Christmas this year.

The bulletins from Liam continued for the next two weeks, and they were within days of Christmas by then. Christmas had ceased to exist for all of them at the hospital as they worried about Charlotte, and waited for the prognosis, which was better, but never completely reassuring. It was a relentless strain for all of them. Liam was so tired he was beginning to get testy with her, and he called less often, because he was sitting with Charlotte for eight-hour shifts, to relieve Beth a little. After that, sometimes he fell asleep on the cot in the hallway, before he had time to call. Sasha understood the pressure he was under, or tried to. She was worn out hearing about it from the distance, she could only imagine what it was like for all of them, sitting in the trauma unit day and night, supporting the little girl. Liam said she was in a lot of pain, which agonized him to see. It was a nightmare for all of them. Her heart ached for him every time she talked to Liam. He kept promising to come to New York to see her as soon as he could. She couldn't even imagine when that would be, and never asked. She wanted to lighten his burdens for him, not add to them.

Two days before Christmas, the doctors gave Charlotte and her family the best gift of all. They told them that it would take a long, long time, but she would walk again. Maybe with a halting gait, or a limp, or with braces, but she would walk. Her spinal cord had escaped total destruction, although she would not come out of it totally unscathed. It was going to be a long haul, but it was a better fate for her than they'd all feared. She was going to be in the hospital for at least three months, maybe longer, but they thought she'd make a good recovery in the end, and she wouldn't be mentally impaired. She'd have to be brave to get through her surgeries, but they were optimistic. They took her off the critical list the same day. When Liam called to tell her, he was in tears. And Sasha cried with him. It was still enormously upsetting, but a tremendous relief. It could have been so much worse, and for weeks, had looked as though it would be.

“I want to come down and see you,” he said, sounding exhausted.

“Why don't I drive up? I don't want you to drive in the state you're in.”

“I'm fine,” he said, which didn't sound like an accurate assessment to her. He had been in a state of total exhaustion and near collapse for more than two weeks. She hated to think of him being on the road. But he insisted he wanted to come down the next day, to spend Christmas Eve with her, and then he said he'd have to go back. He was still taking turns doing shifts with Beth and Becky, which sounded awkward to her. But in the crisis, they had no other choice. There was one of them with her at all times, and the grandparents were helping as best they could, and Beth's fiancé. Charlotte had an army of loving supporters, and Sasha and Xavier's prayers. She had mentioned it to Tatianna, too, who was horrified and said to tell Liam how sorry she was. Sasha relayed the message, and he said he was touched and to thank her. Tatianna was spoiled and difficult, but she had a decent heart.

Sasha worried about Liam all the way down on his drive south from Vermont. She called him every hour, and he sounded alert and fine. He had made a point of getting some sleep the night before. She could hardly wait to see him, and was grateful that he was coming to spend the holiday with her, in spite of everything that had happened.

She had put up a tree while he was gone, and decorated it for him. She had a few things under it for him: a funny shirt, a new baseball cap, an art book that had been her father's, and a Cartier watch. She was waiting for him anxiously when he got in at six that night. He had made good time, since for once the roads were clear.

The moment Sasha saw him, she burst into tears. He looked so worn and anguished, and as she held him, he sobbed in her arms. He felt as though he had been drowning for the past two weeks. He had never been through such terrifying emotions in his life. He no longer looked like a boy to her, he had turned into a man, older than his years, overnight. He looked like he'd aged ten years in the past weeks. It pained her just to see him, and there was such strain and sorrow in his eyes. He tried to describe to her what it was like. Just hearing about it made her stomach turn over. It was just awful. But at least now Charlotte was better, and there was hope for her future.

“How's Beth holding up?” Sasha was even worried about her.

“She's been amazing. She never leaves the hospital. George has been staying with friends. And Tom's been taking shifts with us.” The whole family had banded together, even Becky, whom Liam didn't mention much. He still felt awkward about her, and probably always would. Sasha wasn't worried about her, it had been a foolish one-night stand, for which he had paid a tremendous price. Sasha was glad that he had been able to be at the hospital with Charlotte. It was one of those things that a child would never forget, nor would he, or even Sasha.

She cooked a wonderful Christmas dinner for him, ran a bath for him, and then tucked him into bed. He lay looking at her quietly for a long time, and held her hand. He was so exhausted he said very little. He never took his eyes off her, and at midnight they exchanged presents. She brought his to him in bed, and then he got up and went to the guest room to get hers. She was dumbstruck when she saw the diamond bracelet he'd bought her, and put it on her wrist.

“It's so beautiful. You spoiled me.” She kissed him, so grateful to be there with him. And he loved all her gifts, especially the watch, and the book that had been her father's.

He lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, when she came to bed. He made no move to make love to her, nor did she. After all he'd been through, she thought it would be in bad taste. He looked utterly worn out. Sex was the last thing on his mind, and hers. They just wanted to be together, and lay there quietly holding hands.

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning, when he rolled over and looked at her. He had been too tired to go to midnight mass, and she hadn't even suggested it. She was sure God would understand.

“You look so tired, sweetheart. Why don't you go to sleep?” She wanted to cradle him like a child. He needed it so badly, and there was more to come. He was going back to the front lines in the morning. This was his only night of respite, and he had driven nearly seven hours to get there.

“I don't want to sleep. I just want to be with you tonight, and soak up every minute.” It was going to have to last him a long time.

“I'm here. You need the sleep. You'll be too tired to drive tomorrow.” He wanted to be with the children for Christmas by nightfall, or sooner if he could. He was leaving at seven in the morning. All they had left were six hours. “When things calm down a little, I'll drive up to see you.” It was still too early to intrude on them, but Liam seemed to have no idea how long he'd be there. Sasha was patiently waiting.

“I have to talk to you, Sash,” he said, leaning on one elbow.

“What about?” For a strange moment, she wondered if he was going to propose to her, but it seemed an odd time. Emotions had been running high. She smiled at him, and looked up at him from her pillow. She was so glad he was there, and so was he. But even away from the horror of the hospital, he looked sad. He had been through too much fear and seen too much pain to shake it off with ease. This was going to take a long time for all of them to get over, not just Charlotte. The whole family had been traumatized by her accident.

“I don't even know where to begin,” he said, and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Sasha was looking straight at him. This sounded important, and she was paying close attention. “Charlotte is going to need an incredible amount of care, nursing, rehabilitation, therapy of all kinds. She's going to be in the hospital for months, and then we can do some of the rehab at home because she's so young, or she may have to stay at a center. They have one in Burlington.” She understood then what he was worried about. There wasn't even the faintest doubt in her mind. She would do anything she could to help him, and had wanted to tell him sooner but didn't want to intrude or pry.

“The answer is yes,” she said simply, as she leaned over and kissed him, and Liam looked surprised.

“Yes to what?” She had thrown him off balance. It was hard enough to say as it was.

“Yes, if you need an advance. An accident like this must cost a fortune. I'll do anything to help. The gallery will, and so will I.” Tears came to his eyes.

“I love you. You don't have to do that.”

“I want to.” It was as simple as that.

“We're okay. Our insurance is terrific. Thank God Beth has always been a maniac about insurance. God knows, I wasn't. I always thought it was stupid to pay the premiums we did. Thank God we did. We need it now. I think Beth's parents will do the rest. They've saved a lot of money over the years. And Beth's fiancé wants to help. I don't think he should. He feels responsible for what happened. We'll sort all that out later. We haven't even seen a bill yet. But thank you for the offer.”

“Okay, then what's the question?” Sasha asked, smiling at him, and he took a deep breath.

“There is no question, Sasha. I wanted to tell you something, not ask you for anything. That's why I came down here. To tell you.” There were tears brimming in his eyes.

“Tell me what?”

He closed his eyes for a minute, and then opened them and exhaled the words. He felt like an ax murderer saying them to her. But he had no other choice. “I'm going back to Beth.” Sasha stared at him for a long minute as though she didn't understand.

“I'm going back to Beth.” He repeated the words, and she looked as though she'd been shot, as she suddenly sat up in bed.

“As in, to Vermont tomorrow, right?” She couldn't breathe and was clutching at straws. He shook his head.

“As in, to our marriage. She can't do this alone. It's going to be months or years getting Charlotte back on her feet, literally, and she may never totally get there. We just don't know yet.” He was sitting up now too. “I've never been there for Beth before. I have to do this now. She wants me back, God knows why. I think she's crazy. I was a lousy husband to her for twenty years. I was too busy playing wacky artist and painting to be of any real help to her. But now I have to do this. I can't leave her alone with this, Sash. I just can't. She broke her engagement as soon as this happened. She said she could never forgive him. She asked me to come back.” He sat there looking at Sasha with tears streaming down his cheeks. He loved her. But he also loved his wife. And she needed him, more than she ever had. The very decency that made him who he was, and made Sasha love him, was what was making him leave her now.

“That's not a reason to go back into a marriage. Stay up there for six months if you have to. A year, if that's what it takes. But you don't go back into a marriage just to nurse a sick child. What happens when she gets better? You've got your marriage and Beth for the rest of your life.”

“I didn't leave her, Sasha,” he reminded her. “She left me, and I deserved it. I would never have left her or the kids.”

“Oh my God. I can't believe this.” They had just gotten back together, and he was in bed with her. But he hadn't laid a hand on her all night. He had just come to be with her one last time, and tell her in person that he was leaving her, this time for good. “I don't think your mind is clear enough to make this decision right now. Either of you.” She was fighting for her life. But looking at his face, she knew she had already lost. There was no winning this time. It was over. It really was impossible, but for entirely different reasons. And she had no weapons to fight for him. Beth had twenty years of marriage on her side, and three children, one of them critically sick. Sasha didn't have a chance. “Can't you wait to make this decision, till you're all a little saner and have had some sleep?”

“There's no decision to make here, Sasha. I can't leave Beth alone to deal with this, and I can't leave my kids.” He had grown up and become responsible, and now he no longer wanted her. And she couldn't even argue with him. Because she knew what he was doing was right, for all of them. Except her. She felt as though he had hit her with a wrecking ball, and he had. Liam put his arms around her then, and she cried great wracking sobs, and so did he. “I'm so sorry, Sasha. I love you. I wanted to do this with you. I wanted to make it work… but I have to go back. I swear I would have married you if this hadn't happened. I wanted to. But now I can't.” It was a tragedy for both of them. But he loved Beth too, and Sasha knew it. She could see it in his eyes. It was totally absurd, but real, he loved them both. And he owed more to Beth. Sasha had to lose. She was the human sacrifice he felt he had to make for his child.

They lay there crying in each other's arms for hours, mourning each other, and wishing things were different. She wanted to be angry, furious even, she wanted to hate him, but she couldn't. She wasn't angry, she was heartbroken. This was as bad as, or worse, than losing Arthur. Because once Liam went back to her, he really would be dead to her now. This time he truly would never come back, and they both knew it.

“I'll withdraw from the gallery, if you want me to. I don't want to make this any harder on you than it already is.”

“You don't have to do that. That's not fair to you. You can deal with Karen and Bernard.” She knew she couldn't see him, or even talk to him after this. If she did, it would kill her. She had never experienced such pain in her life, or at least not since Arthur died.

They were still lying in each other's arms at six. And at six-thirty he got up. They both looked like they'd been beaten. The worst part was that she knew he was doing the right thing. There was no wacky artist factor in this decision. It was the decision of a kind and noble man, who knew what he owed his family and wife, and was willing to live up to his obligations. For better or worse. All it did was make her love him more.

“What if it doesn't work?” Sasha asked while he got dressed. “What if, when Charlotte is better, you two can't stand each other? Then what happens?”

“I don't know,” he said honestly, looking at her. They both looked ravaged.

“Something must have been wrong, for you to sleep with Becky. Men don't do things like that unless they're unhappy with their wives.”

“Maybe not. I think we were bored with each other. Beth was tired of being poor. I felt overwhelmed by the kids at times. It was more responsibility than I bargained for, or was ready for. Hell, I married her at nineteen.”

“And that's what you're going back to,” Sasha said somberly. “Think about it before you do it. You can take care of Charlotte for as long as you need to, without going back to Beth.”

“Sasha, it's done,” he said. It sounded like a death knell to her. “I have to. She needs me. She asked me. She can't do this alone. She's not that strong.” Sasha nodded. There were no arguments left. She had tried them all and lost. And she didn't have the heart to try to convince him of what she knew was wrong. He knew he had to go back to Beth, only because he wanted to, not because she asked. He would have thought of it himself. Sasha knew that about him now. Outrageous behavior and all, he was a good and decent man.

She offered to make him breakfast, but he only shook his head. He couldn't eat. They hadn't slept. He felt as though he were giving up his life, leaving her. He had wanted so desperately to have a life with her, and it had been taken from them, by the hand of fate, and the fault of neither of them. The hand of God. Destiny. All their dreams had to be destroyed and given up. But it was Beth's turn now, and Charlotte's, and the boys'. He belonged to them. He had made a vow to Beth twenty-two years before, and now he had to live up to it. He felt he had no other choice. Sasha was his dream. And Beth was his life.

He put her gifts to him in the backpack he'd brought, and she looked down at her bracelet and then back up at him. “I'll never take it off. I'll love you forever, Liam.”

“Don't,” he said as tears rolled down his cheeks and fell on hers as he kissed her for the last time. “Forget me. Forget us. Put it away somewhere in your heart, and so will I. You will always be here with me.” He pointed to his heart, and Sasha nodded.

She clung to him as though she would die when he left, and she thought she would. This was the good-bye she had never had a chance to say to Arthur. That night with Liam, they had said it all. He was leaving her, loving her as much as he had for the past year, in fact more than he ever had.

She was whimpering as she walked to the elevator with him, and he pressed the button. She was standing barefoot in her nightgown, with her long dark hair hanging like a child's. The elevator came, he looked at her, got in as her eyes met his, and then the door closed and he was gone. She realized as she walked back into her apartment then, it was Christmas morning.

Chapter 21

Christmas was a blur for her, a nightmare beyond belief. Xavier and Tatianna called to wish her a merry Christmas and check on her, and she assured them she was fine. Although Xavier thought she sounded strange, and called to check on her again that night. He asked if Liam was there and she said he had been, and had just gone back to Vermont. She was in too much pain to share the news with anyone. It was so excruciating, she sat in a chair all day, and hardly moved. She just sat there, staring into space. She was in shock.

The day after Christmas, Sasha was at the gallery at ten o'clock, as she always was, when Marcie walked in and saw her sitting at her desk. Her hair was pulled straight back, she had no makeup on, and her face was an ashy white. She was sorting through some papers on her desk, and there was a rigid quality to the way she sat. As though she were in shock, and when Marcie looked at her and saw her eyes, she was sure Charlotte had died. In fact, Sasha had.

“Oh my God, did something happen to …” Marcie's hand flew to her mouth. She could see that something terrible had happened. Sasha looked like a ghost, as she shook her head and looked away. She had sobbed inconsolably for the last three hours. She knew she would never even hear his voice again. Before he left, they had promised not to call each other. It would be a cruelty to do so, to either of them. She had never done anything so difficult in her life as honor what he'd done. She did it for love of him. She always knew she loved him, but she had never known till then how much. “Sasha, are you all right?” Looking at her, Marcie was frightened.

Sasha's voice was wooden when she spoke, without meeting Marcie's eyes. “I'm fine.” She handed her some papers she had just signed. She had begun the rest of her life. It stretched out ahead of her now like a vast wasteland of emptiness and loss. She felt as though every part of her, every fiber, every ounce of her being had died.

Marcie left the room without saying a word, and then mentioned it to Karen, who stopped in Sasha's office to check on her, without appearing to, and came back to Marcie quickly.

“Something terrible must have happened. Did you ask her?”

“She won't talk.”

They both agreed, she looked worse, much worse, than when Arthur died. But it was over two years later, and it was the second major loss she had sustained, which compounded the impact. It had just become two giant losses rolled into one. It brought back everything she had lived through when Arthur died, and in addition now there was the loss of Liam as well. This time forever. There would be no reprieve this time, and she knew it. He was never coming back. In her life anyway, he might as well have died.

Neither woman solved the mystery, and Sasha said nothing to them all day. She didn't eat. She didn't drink. She didn't move, she just sat there shuffling papers on her desk. She thought of killing herself, but knew she couldn't do that to Xavier and Tatianna. She had been condemned to live, which in her case now seemed far worse than being condemned to death. She had been sentenced to an eternity without him.

Driving to Vermont, he felt the same way. But he didn't call her. He knew he never could again. He had to trust her to the hands of fate, which was where he had put himself. All he could do from now on was know that there was a woman he would never see again, and whom he had once loved with his entire being.

Sasha told Marcie that afternoon that she was leaving for Paris the next morning, and asked her to make the reservations for her. Marcie said she would, and then stopped to talk to Sasha again.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Sasha nodded, and Marcie wondered if something had happened with Liam. Maybe they'd had a fight and broken up again. “Where's Liam?” was all she asked her. Sasha said he was in Vermont, and he was fine. She knew it would be months or years before she could tell anyone what had happened. The hole he had left in her was filled with too much pain. Marcie left her then and made the reservations. And then she did something she had never done, even when Arthur died. She called Xavier and told him she was worried about her. He said she had sounded strange to him too when he called her on Christmas. “She looks terrible,” Marcie admitted, hating to worry him, but she didn't know who else to call. Tatianna was away, and Marcie had no idea where she was, and neither did he.

“Maybe I'll fly to Paris to see her this weekend,” he said, thinking about it. He wasn't crazy about the plan, since it was New Year's Eve, but he was worried about her. Something had happened, and whatever it was, she wasn't talking about it, to anyone.

Xavier called her at home that night, and she didn't answer the phone. She was lying in the dark, on her bed, thinking of Liam, wondering what he was doing, how Charlotte was, and what he had said to Beth. She didn't even know if Beth knew about her. Overnight she had become the forgotten woman. She felt invisible, untouchable, unlovable, and completely isolated from the world. She had barely said good-bye to Marcie and Karen when she left. She just said goodnight to them, as she always did, and drifted out to the street. She walked home, and was halfway there before she even noticed it was raining. When she got home, she was soaked to the skin. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.

She took the flight to Paris the next day, spoke to no one on the plane, didn't eat, didn't watch a movie, and slept finally. It was a relatively short flight, and when she got home, she realized she hadn't eaten in days. She didn't care about that either.

When Xavier got to Paris on Saturday, he was shocked when he saw her. She had lost weight, her eyes were glazed, and her skin was almost gray. He managed to get some food into her, and had brought his current girlfriend with him. When he asked his mother about Liam, she was pleasant and vague. All she said was that he was with Beth and his children in Vermont.

A week later, wondering how things were going for him, Xavier called him on his cell phone. He didn't mention the state his mother was in, so as not to worry him. Liam had enough on his plate with Charlotte. Xavier asked him casually when he was coming back to London.

“I'm not,” Liam said quietly. There was a somber tone in his voice that worried Xavier. It was not unlike the flat tone he'd heard recently whenever he called Sasha.

“What do you mean?” Xavier sounded confused. “Are you going to be stuck in Vermont for a long time?”

“Forever, I guess,” Liam said cryptically. “I'll have to come back to London at some point to close my studio.” He said that Charlotte was going to be in the hospital for months, and possibly in rehab after that.

“It's damn decent of you to be there with her,” Xavier commended him, and there was a long silence from Liam's end. He knew he had to tell him then. He had no idea what Sasha had said to him, but Xavier seemed to be unaware of what had happened, which surprised him. He knew how close he and his mother were to each other, and he was sure she would have told him. He couldn't imagine why she didn't. It never occurred to him that she was still in shock, and too devastated to tell him.

“I've gone back to Beth,” he said, and at Xavier's end there was nothing but stunned silence. “I had to. She needs me here. So do the kids. I'll call you when I get back to close up.” Xavier wished him luck, and sat staring into space for a long moment, thinking about what Liam had said. Xavier felt as though he had been shot out of a cannon into a wall. He could barely begin to imagine what his mother must have felt when she heard those same words. It explained everything to him now.

Chapter 22

Sasha moved through her life like a robot for most of January. She went to the gallery, home at night, said little to anyone, and did her work. She had handed off all of Liam's files to Bernard without comment. But as he wasn't working at the moment, while he was taking care of Charlotte, there was nothing to do for him anyway.

They had had two requests for commissions by Liam, which he said he couldn't do for six months. So everything pertaining to Liam Allison was on hold. And so was Sasha's life.

Xavier came back to see her once he knew what had happened, but she refused to talk about it. They went for walks in the park with the dog. He tried to take her out to dinner, but she didn't want to go. She seemed to be doing absolutely nothing these days. Eugénie said she declined every invitation systematically, and she did the same in February in New York. She had shut down everything in her life, except her work.

Xavier had had a long talk with Tatianna about it, and she spent a night in the apartment with her. But nothing seemed to shake Sasha out of her apathy, as February bled into March and then into April, when she was back in Paris. She flew to New York to curate a show, and Marcie was relieved to see that she looked better. She was thin and pale and seemed tired, but at least the otherworldly look she'd had for months was gone. She looked unhappy, but at least human. It was no secret to anyone who knew and cared about her that she had had a terrible time. They had quietly told each other why, without discussing it with her. It was obviously a topic she was not open to talking about, with any one of them. Sasha had completely sealed herself off from the world. Her body was there, but the spirit was gone.

Liam had come to London in March, closed his studio, and sent everything in it to Vermont. He left Xavier a message, but when he called him back, he discovered that Liam had already left town. He had only been there for two days. Xavier assumed correctly that Liam probably didn't want to see him either. The entire episode, Charlotte's accident, and Liam's decision, had been too traumatic for both of them. They had done their best to bury it and recover on their own. Xavier never even mentioned to his mother that Liam had come to town. It seemed best not to mention him anymore, so no one did.

What Marcie saw in April she would not have called recovery, but at least the hemorrhaging of life's blood from Sasha's soul seemed to have stopped. She seemed to have hit bottom, and was holding there, which was a vast improvement over what they had all observed before. Sasha's downward spiral into despair had been terrifying to watch, but she insisted she was feeling better, and even went out to the house in the Hamptons when she came back to New York in May.

Like everywhere else, it was full of memories of Liam now, but whatever she was thinking about him, she was not sharing with anyone. No one in the gallery had seen or heard from him in months. All they knew from Sasha and occasional e-mails from him was that he was with his family in Vermont, and he said Charlotte was doing better. She was in a rehab center by then, and able to stand up. Sasha was about the same. Her spirit seemed to be standing, but it wasn't walking yet. Her children and employees were anxious to see some sign of life again. Marcie almost stood up and cheered, when she saw her smile in May. She couldn't recall seeing her smile since early December, when she and Liam had gotten back together, briefly, before he left her.

Xavier flew to New York to celebrate her fiftieth birthday with her. All she wanted to do was spend a quiet evening with him and Tatianna. They had insisted on taking her to a restaurant at least, and she had chosen a small Italian restaurant in the village, which she said would be quiet. And in spite of her long months of mourning Liam, she had a nice time with her children.

“I can't believe I'm fifty,” she said, looking rueful. “How did I ever get this old?”

“You're not old, Mom,” Xavier said gently. They had given her a diamond brooch with two hearts intertwined, from both of them, and she loved it. She was still wearing the diamond bracelet Liam had given her for Christmas. It never left her wrist.

Marcie and Karen had offered to give her a little party, which she declined. The only parties she went to anymore were openings at the gallery. In the past five months, since Liam left, she had simply folded the show. She was like a small, tired animal hibernating in deep winter. Everyone who loved her was waiting for some sign of spring. Whatever it took, she had to get over Liam. And it seemed to be taking forever. It was as though their souls had been intertwined, and without the other half of her, she had curled up and died. Like Siamese twins. In a single year, they had become part of each other. Her life without him now was relentlessly bleak.

On the Memorial Day weekend, she was still in New York, and decided to go out to Southampton. Tatianna was away. And Xavier was in London. She was going back to Paris the following week. But she was looking forward to spending her last weekend at the beach before she left. It was still chilly, but spring was in the air, and when she left the gallery on Friday night, Marcie thought she looked better. Sasha was under constant scrutiny now, and all her loving observers consulted with each other as to how they thought she was. Her constant insistence that she was fine convinced no one but herself.

As she drove to Southampton that Friday night, the holiday traffic made the trip take forever. And as she sat at a dead stop from time to time, she thought of Liam. It was a luxury she rarely allowed herself anymore. She knew she couldn't afford it. And although the others couldn't see it, she was making efforts to get better. It was a rare indulgence for her to just sit back and think of him. He was still on her mind when she let herself into the house four hours later. By then, it was after eleven, and when she went to bed, it was midnight. She fell asleep, thinking about him, and in the morning, she felt better. It was almost as though allowing herself to bask in the memories for a few hours had relieved some of the pressure.

Navigating the shoals of grief had become familiar to her. She knew from losing Arthur that losing someone was a process, you didn't let go all at once, you let go inch by inch, or millimeter by millimeter. It had taken her a year after Arthur to feel human again. And it had been five months now since Liam. She knew that one of these days she'd get there, and wake up one morning without feeling as though she had a bowling ball on her chest. Little by little, the bowling ball was shrinking. She wondered from time to time how it was for him, or if he'd already forgotten. He had other things now to keep him busy, and she was happy to hear from Marcie that he had reported that Charlotte was so much better. She couldn't help wondering too if he was happy with Beth. There was no way for her to know, and maybe it didn't matter. He was hers now, for better or worse, whichever happened. She knew he would never leave her. He would never have left her the first time. He was the kind of man who stayed forever, once committed. It had been different with them because, however much they loved each other, the commitment had never been made. Just as she had predicted in the beginning, it had been impossible for them, just not for the reasons she'd expected. It had never even remotely dawned on her that he might go back to Beth. Without Charlotte's near-fatal accident, she knew he wouldn't have. Fate had intervened.

She forced him from her head again that night at sunset as she walked down the beach. She let her mind drift to other things, like Arthur and her children. Tatianna had had a serious boyfriend since February, one whom Sasha actually approved of. And Xavier was talking about living with the woman he'd been dating since Christmas, which was a huge change for him. It was time. He was twenty-seven.

She felt peaceful and comfortable for the first time in a long time as she sat down in the shelter of the dune grass to watch the sunset. The air was still chilly, but the sun had been warm all day. She lay down on the sand then, thinking about her children, the times they'd shared, the things she'd accomplished, the wonderful moments they'd had together. She had chartered another boat for them that summer. But it was at the beach that she had her private moments. She cherished them as well. They were times to think, and be grateful for her life, which she was starting to be again. She knew that in spite of the losses she'd suffered, she had many blessings, and was grateful for them all.

She was watching the sun go down quickly and wondered if she'd see the green flash as it hit the horizon. She loved watching for it, and as she lay there, she savored the moment. She wanted nothing more than she had right then. She needed nothing, wanted no one. She felt as though she were hanging in space, weightless, without burdens. She felt at ease in her own skin for the first time since December. It was, at last, the beginning of healing, and had been a long time coming.

She saw the green flash and smiled when it happened. It was like an omen of better things to come. There were still spots in front of her eyes from staring into the sun as it was setting, and what she saw then seemed like a vision. She couldn't see him clearly, but she saw his form and outline. She knew she was imagining it, maybe even hallucinating, and then she heard his voice. It was Liam. He was standing in front of her, with his back to the sunset, almost like a movie. She just lay there and stared at him and said nothing.

“Hello, Sasha.” She had no idea why he'd come. The last time she had seen him they had both been crying. This time, she just looked at him and smiled. It had been five months since she'd seen him.

“I was watching the sunset.”

“I saw you from the porch.”

“How's Charlotte?” She didn't want to know how Beth was.

“Much better. She just started walking.”

She didn't invite him to sit down. She just nodded. “Why did you come here?”

“I'm going back. I just wanted to come and say good-bye.”

“You already did that.” It was a strange, disjointed conversation between two people who had loved and lost each other. They had already said good-bye once, five months before. What was the point of coming back to do it again? “When are you going back?” It was a meaningless question. When he was going back no longer mattered. He already had, five months before.

“Tomorrow,” he answered, and then finally sat down on the sand beside her. He felt odd standing up and looking at her as she lay there. She seemed smaller than he remembered, and paler, and her hair seemed darker in sharp contrast to the ivory white face. She was more beautiful than he had remembered, and he had thought of her often. She had haunted him, like someone he had killed, and had to live forever after with the floating tormented vision of her face the last time he saw her. “I just wanted to see you once before I went back.”

“I thought we weren't going to do that.” Her eyes met his and held them. He had forgotten how piercing her eyes were, at the same time gentle and intense. She had kept her part of the bargain. She had never called him. And unlike what he was doing now, she had never shown up in Vermont. Coming back to torture her one last time seemed unfair to her, and she was sorry that he'd come. She would have to climb the hill of healing yet again. And the climb had already been hard enough.

“I didn't call you, because I was afraid you wouldn't see me.”

“You were right. I wouldn't. One good-bye was enough.” And they'd had more than that in the course of the year they shared. “Why did you come?” She knew there was another reason that he hadn't told her yet. She knew him better by then than he knew himself. But she could see how much he too had changed in the last five months. There was no boyhood left in his handsome face, only manhood. He had had his own journey of pain after he left. He had had three children and a wife to accompany him daily on his travels. She had had no one but herself, and the trip had been harder on her.

“Do you hate me?” he asked her. She should have. But she was beyond that, and had never gotten there anyway. She shook her head. It wasn't his fault.

“No. I love you. I probably always will.” His eyes went to her hand, and he saw both his bracelets still on her wrist.

“So will I.” The sun was down, and it had gotten cold. “Do you want me to go now?”

She was honest with him. “Not yet.” This might be her last look. She wanted to savor it before he left.

“I have to drive to New York tonight,” he said, for lack of something better to say. None of the things he had wanted to tell her seemed to make sense now. She had become someone else. Bigger, better, stronger, deeper. Trial by fire. It had purified her in some strange way.

“Why New York?”

“Because I'm going back.” He was being cryptic, and he confused her.

“Back where? Vermont?”

He smiled and shook his head. She had misunderstood. “No. London.”

“Why there?”

And then he knew he had to tell her. It was why he'd come. He realized when he saw her that he had already caused her too much pain. And even if she still loved him, the doors were closed. He could see it in her face.

“I left Beth. It didn't work. We both knew it in a month, but we tried anyway, for the kids' sake. It doesn't work that way. We left as good friends.” He laughed softly. “She's happy to be rid of me.” Sasha was watching him intently, trying to absorb what he'd just said. She suddenly wondered if she had imagined him and what she was hearing. Maybe he wasn't even there. Like a vision she had conjured in a dream. A lifelike hallucination.

“What did you just say?”

“I said Beth and I ended it. The divorce is final. I'm going back to London tomorrow. I wanted to see you before I left. If nothing else, I owe you an apology.” He knew that what he had done to her in December was inexcusable. But he had done it for his wife and kids. It was a poor excuse, but at the time it seemed the right thing. Sasha knew it too.

“You don't owe me an apology,” she said gently. “You did what you had to do.”

“And I damn near killed you.”

“I'm still here.” She sat up slowly. “I'm tougher than you think.”

“No. You're tougher than you think. I thought of you every day. Constantly.” He stretched out his arm, and she saw the watch.

“So did I,” she confessed. “Now what do we do?” Their eyes held, and they didn't reach out to each other. They hadn't touched each other, and maybe never would.

“Impossible or possible? It's up to you,” he asked softly, as the wind chilled them both, and then he moved closer to her. They were almost touching, but not yet. “What do you think?”

“I never thought you'd come back, Liam,” she said sadly. It was hard to believe he had, or know why he did. He had left her so often, and she had died so many times at his hands.

“I didn't either. I didn't think I could.”

He wanted to kiss her but now the decision was up to her. It had been his last time. This one was hers. He would respect whatever she said.

“Which is it?” He didn't want to press her, but he had to know.

“I don't know.” She sat looking out to sea, and then she turned to him and smiled. “Or maybe I do. Maybe it doesn't matter anymore which one it is. Life only gives you so many chances, and then for no reason at all, you get one more. People die, people leave, people come back. Maybe it doesn't matter, if you love each other. I love you, Liam. I always did. More than I knew.”

“More than I knew too. I thought it would kill me when I left you, but I had to do it.”

“I know.” She smiled again and he kissed her, gently, cautiously. It was like touching a summer breeze. He had never forgotten what it was like kissing her and holding her. In the end, he had taken her with him. Beth knew it before he did, and out of kindness sent him back.

He kissed her again and held her, and she whispered something into his chest. He felt it more than heard it, and looked down into her face. “What did you say?”

“Possible.” It was a whisper, but he heard her this time. “Possible.” She repeated it. It was all he had wanted to hear, all he'd lived for in the months he was away. He pulled her tightly into his arms then, and she looked up into the face that was a part of her, and had been since the beginning, and she laughed. “Possible. This time for sure.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DANIELLE STEEL has been hailed as one of the world's most popular authors, with over 530 million copies of her novels sold. Her many international bestsellers include Toxic Bachelors, Miracle, Impossible, Echoes, Second Chance, Ransom, Safe Harbour, Dating Game, and other highly acclaimed novels. She is also the author of His Bright Light, the story of her son Nick Traina's life and death.

Visit the Danielle Steel Web site at

www.daniellesteel.com.

a cognizant original v5 release october 14 2010

IMPOSSIBLE

A DELL BOOK

Published by Bantam Dell

A Division of Random House, Inc.

New York, New York

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2005 by Danielle Steel

Excerpt from THE LITTLE PRINCE by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. English translation © 1943 by Harcourt, Inc. and renewed 1971 by Consuelo de Saint-Exupery. English translation © 2000 by Richard Howard.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2004052689

Dell is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-307-56652-2

www.bantamdell.com

v3.0

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

ABOUT THE AUTHOR