Rogue

Chapter 4

On Thanksgiving morning Maxine checked on the children in each of their rooms. Daphne was lying on her bed talking to a friend on the cell phone, which had officially been returned to her. She was still on restriction and had no social life, but at least she had her phone life back. Jack was in front of his computer, wearing a blue shirt, gray slacks, and a blazer, and Maxine helped him tie his tie. And Sam was still in his pajamas, glued to the TV, watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Zelda had left earlier to spend the day with a friend who worked for a family in Westchester, and was doing Thanksgiving lunch for a bunch of nannies she knew. They were a special breed, who gave their lives to the children they cared for and loved, and had none of their own.

Maxine got Sam's clothes out for him and reminded Daphne to get off the phone and get dressed. Her daughter walked into her bathroom with her cell phone still glued to her ear and slammed the door. And Maxine walked back into her own room to get ready. She was planning to wear a beige pantsuit with a matching cashmere turtleneck sweater and high heels. She pulled the sweater over her head, and started brushing her hair.

Ten minutes later Sam came in, with his shirt buttoned wrong, his fly open, and his hair sticking up all over the place, and she grinned.

“Do I look okay?” he asked confidently, as she brushed his hair down, and told him to zip up his fly.

“Oh,” he said with a grin, as she buttoned his shirt for him, and told him to get his tie. He made a face. “Do I have to wear that too? It strangles me.”

“Then we won't tie it so tight. Grampa always wears a tie, and Jack is wearing one today.”

“Daddy never wears a tie,” Sam countered with a look of pain.

“Yes, he does.” Maxine held firm. Blake looked great in a suit. “He does when he goes out.”

“Not anymore.”

“Well, you have to on Thanksgiving. And don't forget to get your loafers out.” She knew that otherwise, he would want to wear his running shoes to lunch at his grandparents'. As he went back to his own room to get his tie and shoes, Daphne appeared in the doorway in a short black miniskirt, black stockings, and high heels. She had come to her mother's room to borrow another sweater, her favorite pink one, and tiny diamonds sparkled in her pierced ears. Maxine had given them to her for her thirteenth birthday and allowed her to have her ears pierced. Now she wanted a second set of holes in her ears. “Everyone” had two pierces at least at school. So far Maxine hadn't given in, and her daughter looked lovely with her dark hair brushed softly around her face. Maxine handed over the pink sweater, just as Sam walked in with his shoes and a mystified expression.

“I can't find my tie,” he said, looking pleased.

“Yes, you can. Go back and look again,” Maxine said firmly.

“I hate you,” he said, the expected response, as Maxine got into her suit, slipped into high heels, and put pearl earrings on.

Half an hour later, they were all dressed, both boys had their ties on, with ski parkas over their blazers, and Daphne was wearing a short black coat with a little fur collar that Blake had given her for her birthday. They looked neat, respectable, and well dressed, and walked the short distance down Park Avenue to their grandparents' apartment. Daphne wanted to take a cab, but Maxine said the walk would do them good. It was a beautiful sunny November day, and the children were all looking forward to their father's arrival that afternoon. He was flying in from Paris, and they were due at his apartment in time for dinner. Maxine had agreed to go along. It would be nice to see Blake.

The doorman at her parents' apartment building wished them all a happy Thanksgiving as they got into the elevator. Maxine's mother was waiting for them at the door when they got out. She looked strikingly like Maxine, in an older, slightly heavier version, and Maxine's father was standing just behind her with a broad smile.

“My, my,” he said kindly, “what a good-looking group you are.” He kissed his daughter first, shook hands with the boys, while Daphne kissed her grandmother, and then smiled at her grandfather, while he gave her a hug.

“Hi, Grampa,” she said softly, and they followed their grandparents into the living room. Their grandmother had done several beautiful arrangements of fall flowers, and the apartment looked as neat and elegant as ever. Everything was impeccable and in good order, and the children sat down politely on the couch and chairs. They knew that at their grandparents' house they had to behave. Their grandparents were kind and loving, but they weren't used to having that many children around at once, particularly boys. Sam sneaked a deck of cards out of his pocket, and he and his grandfather started a game of Go Fish! while Maxine and her mother went out to the kitchen to check on the turkey. Everything had been meticulously set out and prepared- gleaming silver, immaculately pressed linens, the turkey was all cooked, and the vegetables were cooking. Sharing Thanksgiving was a tradition they all loved. Maxine always enjoyed visiting with her parents. They had been supportive of her all her life, and particularly so since her divorce from Blake. They had liked him, but thought he had been over the top ever since his big win in the dot-com boom. The way he lived now was entirely beyond their understanding. They worried about his influence on the children, but had been relieved to see that Maxine's solid values and constant attention had continued to ground them. They were crazy about their grandchildren and loved having them come to visit and sharing holidays with them.

Maxine's father was still busy with his practice, teaching and still attending surgeries of special cases, and he was extremely proud of his daughter with her own medical career. When she had decided to go to medical school and follow in his footsteps, it had pleased him no end. He was a little startled by her decision to specialize in psychiatry, a world he knew little about, but he was impressed by the career and reputation she had forged for herself in her field. He had proudly given away many copies of both of her books.

Her mother checked on the sweet potatoes in the oven, poked the turkey again to make sure it wasn't drying out, and turned to Maxine with a warm smile. She was a quiet, reserved woman who had been satisfied all her life to be in the background, be supportive of her husband, and she was proud to be a physician's wife. She had never felt the need for a career of her own. She was of a generation that was happy to stand behind their men, bring up their children, and as long as there was no pressing financial need, stay home instead of work. She had done extensive charity work for the Junior League, was a volunteer at the hospital where her husband was on staff, and she enjoyed reading for the blind. She was satisfied, happy, and her life was full, but she worried that her daughter had too much responsibility on her shoulders, and worked too hard. It bothered her more than it did her husband that Blake was an absentee father, although her own husband hadn't been directly involved with his own daughter either. But the reasons for it, and his demanding practice, seemed far more comprehensible and respectable to Marguerite Connors than Blake's obsessive and totally irresponsible pursuit of fun. She had never been able to understand what he was doing or how he behaved, and she thought it remarkable that Maxine was so patient about it, and so tolerant of his complete lack of responsibility toward their children. In fact, she felt downright sorry for them for what they were missing, and for Maxine. And it worried her that there wasn't a serious man in her life.

“How are you, dear? As busy as ever?” Marguerite asked. She and Maxine talked a few times a week, but rarely said anything substantive. Had Maxine felt the need, she would have been more inclined to discuss things with her father, who had a more realistic view of the world. Her mother had been so sheltered through nearly fifty years of marriage that she was far less able to be helpful in any practical way. And Maxine hated to worry her. “Are you working on a new book?”

“Not yet. And my practice always gets a little crazy before the holidays. There's always some lunatic doing something to put kids in jeopardy or traumatize them, and my adolescent patients get upset about the holidays, like everyone else. Holidays always seem to drive everyone a little nuts,” Maxine said, helping her mother put the rolls in the bread basket after they'd been warmed. Their dinner looked beautiful and smelled great. Although she had help during the week, her mother was a terrific cook, and took great pride in cooking holiday meals herself. She always prepared Christmas dinner too, which was a huge relief for Maxine, who had never been as domestic, and was more like her father in many ways. She also had his realistic, practical view of the world. She was more scientific than artistic, and as the breadwinner in her own family, she was more down to earth. To this day, her father still wrote the checks and paid the bills. Maxine was well aware that if anything ever happened to him, her mother would be completely lost in the real world.

“Holidays are always busy for us too,” Marguerite said as she took the turkey out of the oven. It looked like it was ready to be photographed for a magazine. “Everyone seems to break something during ski season, and as soon as it gets cold, people start falling on the ice and breaking hips.” She had done it herself three years before, and had had a hip replacement. She had come out of it very well. “You know how busy your father gets this time of year.”

Maxine smiled in answer, helping her get the sweet potatoes out of the oven, and setting them down on the island in the center of the kitchen. The crust of marshmallows covering them was a perfect golden brown. “Dad's always busy, Mom.”

“So are you,” her mother said proudly, and went to get her husband to carve the turkey. When Maxine followed her back into the living room, he was still playing cards with Sam, and the other two children were watching football on TV. Her father was a huge fan, and had been the orthopedic surgeon for the New York Jets for years. He still saw them as patients in his practice.

“Turkey time,” her mother announced, as her father got up to go and carve the turkey. He apologized to Sam and looked at his daughter with a grin. He'd been having a good time.

“I think he cheats,” her father commented about his grandson.

“Definitely,” Maxine agreed, as her father disappeared into the kitchen to do his job.

Ten minutes later the turkey was carved, and he brought it to the dining table, as his wife called out to all of them to come and sit down. Maxine found great pleasure in the family ritual, and was grateful that they were all there together and her parents were in good health. Her mother was seventy-eight, and her father seventynine, although both were in great shape. It was hard to believe that her parents were now that old.

Her mother said grace, as she did every year, and then her father passed the turkey platter around. There was stuffing, cranberry jelly, sweet potatoes, wild rice, peas, spinach, chestnut puree, and rolls her mother made from scratch. It was a veritable feast.

“Yumm!” Sam said as he piled the sweet potatoes with the marshmallow topping onto his plate. He took gobs of cranberry jelly, a healthy portion of stuffing, a slice of white turkey meat, and no vegetables at all. Maxine said nothing to him, and let him enjoy the meal.

As always, the conversation was lively whenever they got together. Their grandfather asked them respectively how they were doing in school, and was particularly interested in Jack's soccer games. And by the time lunch was over, they were so full they could hardly move. The meal had been finished off with apple, pumpkin, and mince pies, with a choice of vanilla ice cream or perfectly whipped cream. Sam's shirttail was hanging out when he left the table, the neck of his shirt was open, and his tie was askew. Jack looked more respectable, but had taken his tie off too. Only Daphne looked like a perfect lady, the way she had when she arrived. All three children went back to the living room to watch football, as Maxine sat and relaxed over coffee with her parents.

“It was a fantastic meal, Mom,” Maxine said honestly. She loved the way her mother cooked, and wished she could have learned it from her. But she didn't have the interest or the skill. “It always is fantastic when you cook,” she added, and her mother beamed.

“Your mother is an amazing woman,” her father said, and Maxine smiled at the look they exchanged. They were cute. After all these years, they were still in love. Their fiftieth anniversary was coming up the following year. Maxine was already thinking about giving a party for them. As their only child, the responsibility fell to her. “The kids are looking great,” her father commented, as Maxine helped herself to a chocolate mint from a silver tray her mother had set down in front of them as Maxine groaned. It was hard to believe she could swallow anything else after the enormous meal, but somehow she did.

“Thanks, Dad. They're fine.”

“It's a shame their father doesn't see more of them.” It was a comment he always made. As much as he had enjoyed Blake's company at times, as a father he thought he was a disgrace.

“He's coming in tonight,” Maxine commented noncommittally. She knew what her father thought, and she didn't entirely disagree.

“For how long?” her mother asked. She shared her husband's point of view, that Blake had turned out to be a big disappointment as a husband and father, although she liked him.

“Probably for the weekend,” if he stayed that long. With Blake, that was never a sure thing. But at least he was coming, and seeing them on Thanksgiving. That wasn't automatically a given with him, and the kids were happy with whatever time they got, however brief.

“When did he see them last?” her father asked with obvious disapproval.

“July. In Greece, on the boat. They had a great time.”

“That's not the point,” her father said sternly. “Children need a father. He's never around.”

“He never was,” Maxine said honestly. She didn't have to defend him anymore, although she didn't like being unkind, or to upset the kids by making negative comments about him, which she never did. “That's why we got divorced. He loves them, he just forgets to show up. As Sam says, it sucks. But they seem very well adjusted about it. They may get upset about it later, but for now, they seem to be okay. They accept him for what he is, a lovable, unreliable guy who loves them, and is a lot of fun to be with.” It was a perfect assessment of Blake. Her father frowned and shook his head.

“What about you?” he asked, always concerned about his daughter. Like her mother, he thought she worked too hard, but he was enormously proud of her, and just very sorry she was alone. It didn't seem fair to him, and he resented Blake for how things had turned out, far more than Maxine did herself. She had made her peace with it long since. Her parents never had.

“I'm fine,” Maxine said blandly, in answer to her father's question. She knew what he meant. They always asked.

“Any nice young man on the horizon?” He looked hopeful.

“Nope,” she said with a smile. “I'm still sleeping with Sam.” Both her parents smiled.

“I hope that changes one of these days,” Arthur Connors said, with a look of concern. “Eventually, those kids are going to grow up, before you know it, and you're going to find yourself alone.”

“I think I've got a few years left before I need to panic about it.”

“It goes mighty fast,” he said, thinking about her. “I blinked and you were in medical school. And now look at you. You're an authority in your field on childhood trauma and adolescent suicide. When I think about you, Max, I still think you're fifteen.” He smiled warmly at her, and her mother nodded.

“Yeah, me too, Dad. Sometimes I look at Daphne, wearing my clothes and high heels, and I wonder how that happened. Last time I looked, she was three. Jack's suddenly as tall as I am, overnight, and five minutes ago, Sam was two months old. It's weird, isn't it?”

“It's even weirder when your ‘children' are the age you are. You'll always be a kid to me.” She liked that about their relationship. There had to be somewhere in the world, and people in it, where you could still be a kid. It was too hard to be a grown-up all the time. That was the nice thing about still having parents, there was a feeling of safety not having to be the oldest member of the family yet.

She wondered sometimes if Blake's crazy wild behaviors stemmed from a fear of getting old. She couldn't totally blame him if that was the case. In many ways, responsibility was what he feared most, and yet he had been so extraordinary in business. But that was different. He had wanted to be a “wunderkind” or golden boy forever, and now he was all grown up and middle-aged. She knew it scared him more than anything else, and he couldn't run fast enough to get away from facing himself. It was sad in a way, and he had missed so much. While he was running faster than the speed of sound, his kids were growing up, and he had lost her. It seemed like a high price to pay to be Peter Pan.

“Well, don't talk yourself into being old yet,” her father said then. “You're still a young woman, and any man would be lucky to have you. At forty-two, you're still a kid. Don't lock yourself up, and forget to go out and have some fun.” They all knew that she didn't go out much. He was afraid sometimes that she was still in love with Blake and pining for him, but her mother insisted that wasn't the case. She just hadn't met anyone yet. And they both wanted her to find the right man this time. Her father had tried to fix her up with a few physicians initially, but it had never worked out, and Maxine had said she preferred to find her own dates.

She helped her mother clear the table and make order in the kitchen, but Marguerite told her the housekeeper would be back the next day, so they joined the others in the living room, avidly watching the game on TV. And reluctantly, at five o'clock, Maxine pried the children away. She hated to do it, but she didn't want them to be late for Blake. Every moment they shared with him was precious. Her parents were sorry to see them leave. They hugged and kissed, and she and the children thanked them for the terrific meal. It was what everyone's Thanksgiving should be, and Maxine was grateful for the family she had. She knew just how lucky she was.

She and the children walked slowly back up Park Avenue to their own building. It was five-thirty by then. The kids changed out of their good clothes, and unusually promptly for him, Blake called at six. He had just gotten in. He was on his way in from the airport, and told them to be at his place at seven. He said everything was set and waiting for them. He was having dinner catered by a restaurant, and knowing they would have had turkey at their grandparents', he said he had ordered something different. Dinner would be ready by nine, and they could hang out till then. Just hearing about it, the children were thrilled.

“Are you sure you still want me to come?” Maxine asked cautiously. She hated to intrude on their time with him, although she knew Sam would be more comfortable with her around. But he had to get used to being with Blake at some point. He never spent enough time with him to get over that hump. Blake didn't mind. He loved having Maxine around, and always made her feel welcome. Even five years after the divorce, they still enjoyed each other's company, as friends.

“I'd love it,” Blake said in answer to her question. “We can catch up while the kids run around.” The children always had a ball at his place, playing video games, and watching movies. They loved his projection room and the enormous, comfortable seats. He had every modern high-tech gadget there was, since he was a kid himself. Blake always reminded her of Tom Hanks in the movie Big, an enchanting boy masquerading as a man. “See you at seven,” Blake promised as Maxine hung up and reported to the kids. They had an hour to relax and pack their things to stay with him. Sam looked a little uncertain about it, and she reassured him that he'd be fine.

“You can sleep with Daffy if you need to,” she reminded him, and he looked pleased with that. She mentioned it to Daphne a few minutes later and told her to take care of Sam, and suggested that Sam sleep with her. Daphne didn't mind.

All four of them were in a cab together an hour later, on their way to Blake's apartment. Just going up in the elevator reminded them of being in a rocket ship. You needed a special code to get to his penthouse apartment. He had two entire floors, and from the moment he opened the door to them, it was pure Blake and the magical world he lived in. The music on the extraordinary sound system was blaring, the art and lighting were amazing, the view was beyond spectacular with glass exterior walls, picture windows, and enormous skylights. The inner walls were mirrored to reflect the view, the ceilings were nearly thirty feet tall. He had taken over two floors and turned them into one apartment with a circular staircase in the middle, and he had every possible game, toy, stereo, TV, gimmick, and gadget. He had a movie playing on a screen that covered an entire wall, and handed Jack the headphones to watch it. He kissed and hugged all of them, and gave Daphne a new cell phone in pink enamel with her initials engraved in it, and he showed Sam how to work the new video game chair and paddles he'd had installed in his absence. They were all busy playing with toys, and getting acclimated to their rooms again, when Blake finally had a peaceful moment to smile at his ex-wife and put a friendly arm around her.

“Hi, Max,” he said calmly. “How are you? Sorry about all the chaos.” He was as dazzling as ever. He had a deep tan, which made his electric blue eyes even more startling. He was wearing jeans, a black turtleneck sweater, and black alligator cowboy boots that had been made for him in Milan. There was no question, Maxine reminded herself, he was a knockout. Everything about him was appealing, and incredibly handsome, for about ten minutes. And then you realized you couldn't count on him, he never showed up, and no matter how charming he was, he was never going to grow up. He was the best-looking, smartest, most adorable Peter Pan in the world. It was great if you wanted to play Wendy, but if not, he just wasn't the right man. She had to remind herself of that at times. Being in his aura was a heady experience. But she knew better than anyone that he wasn't a responsible adult. Sometimes she felt like he was her fourth child.

“They love the chaos,” she reassured him. Being with him was a three-ring circus. And who didn't love that at their age? It was a lot harder to take at hers. “You look great, Blake. How was Morocco, or Paris, or wherever you were?”

“The house in Marrakech is going to be terrific. I've been there all week. I was in Paris yesterday.” She laughed at the contrast between their lives. She had been at Silver Pines, seeing Jason, on Long Island. It was a far cry from the glamor of her ex-husband's life, but she wouldn't have traded places with him for the world. She couldn't have lived that way anymore. “You look great too, Max. Still too busy? Seeing a million patients? I don't know how you do it.” Particularly knowing what heavy things she dealt with. He admired the work she did, and the kind of mother she was. She had been a great wife too. He always said so.

“I like it that way,” Maxine said, smiling. “Someone has to do it, and I'm glad it's me. I love working with kids.” He nodded, knowing how true that was.

“How was Thanksgiving with your parents?” He used to feel stifled at those Thanksgivings, and yet in a funny way he loved them too. They were what every family should be, and so few were. He hadn't had a holiday like that in five years.

“It was nice. They love the kids, and they're so sweet. They're both in remarkably good shape for their age. My father is still operating, though not as much, and teaching and practicing full time, at seventy-nine.”

“You will be too,” Blake said, as he poured champagne into two glasses and handed her one. He always drank Cristal. She took it and sipped it, admiring the view from his apartment. It was like flying over the city. Everything he owned or touched had that magical quality to it. He was what people dreamed of being if they hit it big, but very few people had Blake's style and ability to pull it off.

She was surprised he didn't have a woman with him this time, and a few minutes later, he explained it with a rueful smile. “I just got dumped,” he said, by a twenty-four-year-old supermodel, who had run off with a major rock star, who Blake said had a bigger plane. Maxine couldn't help laughing at the way he said it. He didn't seem upset, and she knew he wasn't. The girls he went out with were just playmates for him. He had no desire whatsoever to settle down, and didn't want more kids, so eventually the young women he went out with had to marry someone else. Marriage with him was never an option, and the farthest thing from his mind. As they sat in his living room and chatted, Sam wandered in, and hopped up on his mother's lap. He sat watching Blake with interest, as though he were a family friend and not his father, and then inquired about the girlfriend he'd had with him the previous summer. Blake looked at him and laughed.

“You've missed two since then, champ. I was just telling your mom. I got dumped last week. So it's just me this time.” Sam nodded at the explanation, and glanced at his mother.

“Mom doesn't have a boyfriend either. She never goes out. She has us.”

“She should go out,” Blake said, smiling at both of them. “She's a very beautiful woman, and one of these days you guys are going to grow up.” It was exactly what Maxine's father had said that day after lunch. She had another twelve years until Sam left for college. She was in no hurry, despite everyone else's concerns. He asked Sam about school then, not knowing what else to say, and Sam told his father he had been the turkey in the school play. Maxine had emailed Blake the pictures of it, as she always did of important events. She had sent a slew of them to him of Jack at his soccer games.

The children wandered in and out, chatting easily with their parents, and getting used to Blake again. Daphne looked at him with open adoration, and when she left the room, Maxine told him about the incident with the beer, just so he was aware of it, and didn't let it happen when Daphne was with him.

“Come on, Max,” he chided her gently, “don't be so uptight. She's just a kid. Don't you think restriction for a month is a little over the top? She's not going to turn into an alcoholic from two beers.” It was the kind of reaction she expected from him, and not one she liked. But she wasn't surprised. It was one of the many differences between them. Blake didn't believe in rules, for anyone, and least of all himself.

“No, she isn't,” Maxine said quietly. “But if I let them have beer parties now, at thirteen, where are we going to be at sixteen or seventeen? Crack parties when I'm out seeing patients, or heroin? She's got to have limits, and respect for boundaries, or we're going to be in deep shit in a few years. I'd rather put the brakes on now.”

“I know,” he sighed, the blue eyes looking brighter than ever as he glanced at her sheepishly. He looked like a boy who had just been scolded by his mother or teacher. It was a role Maxine didn't like, but had had with him for years. She was used to it by now. “You're probably right. It just doesn't seem like such a big deal to me. I did a lot worse at her age. I was stealing scotch out of my father's bar at twelve, and selling it in school for a hell of a profit.” He laughed and so did Max.

“That's different. That's business. You were an entrepreneur at that age, not a drunk. I'll bet you weren't drinking it.” He was not an excessive drinker as a rule, and had never done drugs. He was just wild in every other way. Blake was allergic to boundaries of any kind.

“You're right.” Blake laughed harder at the memory. “I didn't do that till I was fourteen. I was more interested in staying sober and getting the girls drunk that I went out with. That seemed like a much better plan to me.”

Max shook her head, laughing at him. “Why is it I think that hasn't changed?”

“I don't need to get them drunk anymore,” he confessed with a shameless grin. They had the strangest relationship, like great friends, more than people who had been married for ten years and had three children. He was like the crazy pal she saw two or three times a year, while she was the responsible one, bringing up children and going to work every day. They were night and day.

Dinner arrived promptly at nine o'clock, and everyone was hungry by then. He had ordered it from the best Japanese restaurant in the city, and it was prepared in front of them, with all kinds of flourishes and exotic touches, and a chef who flamed everything, chopped up the shrimp and flipped it in the air and caught it in his pocket. The kids loved it. Everything Blake did or organized was spectacular and different. Even Sam was looking relaxed and happy by the time she left. It was nearly midnight by then, and the kids were watching a movie in the projection room. She knew they'd be up till two or three A.M. It wouldn't do them any harm, she didn't begrudge them a minute of their time with him. They could sleep when they came home to her.

“When are you leaving?” she asked him as she put her coat on, afraid that he would say “tomorrow,” which she knew would upset the kids. They wanted at least a few days with him, particularly not knowing when they would see him again, although Christmas was coming, and he usually managed to spend some time with them during the holidays.

“Not till Sunday,” he said, and noticed the look of relief on her face.

“That's good,” she said softly. “They hate it when you leave.”

“Me too,” he said almost sadly. “If it's okay with you, I want to take them to Aspen after Christmas. I don't have any firm plans yet, but it's a nice time to be there, over New Year's.”

“They'll love it.” She smiled at him. She always missed them when they went away with him, but she wanted them to have a father, and it wasn't easy to manage with him. You had to catch him when he was willing, and able to make plans with them.

“Do you want to have dinner with us tomorrow night?” he offered, as he walked her to the elevator. He still enjoyed spending time with her, he always had. He would have stayed married to her forever. It was Maxine who had wanted out, and he didn't blame her. And he'd had a good time since then. But he loved still having her in his life, and was glad she had never shut him out. He wondered if that would change when she found a serious man, and he never doubted that she would one day. He was surprised it had taken this long.

“I might,” she said, looking relaxed. “See how it goes with the kids. I don't want to intrude.” They needed time alone with their father, and she didn't want to interfere with them.

“We love having you along,” he assured her, and then hugged her goodbye.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as she got on the elevator, and waved at him as the doors closed. The elevator shot down fifty floors, and her ears popped as she stood there thinking about him. It was strange. Nothing had changed. She still loved him. She always had. She had never stopped loving him. She just didn't want to be with him anymore. It didn't even bother her that he went out with girls in their twenties. It was hard to define their relationship. But whatever it was, and however strange, it worked for both of them.

The doorman hailed her a cab as she came out of the building. As she rode uptown to her own apartment, she thought about what a nice day it had been. It was strange to find it silent and dark when she walked in. She turned on the lights, walked into her bedroom, and thought of Blake and her children in his insanely luxurious apartment. The one she lived in looked better to her than ever. There was no part of his life that she still wanted. She had no need for that kind of excess and self-indulgence. She was happy for him, but what she had was all she wanted.

For the thousandth time since she left him, she knew she had made the right decision. Blake Williams was every woman's dream, but no longer hers.