Love Again, Love for Them: A Novel

by R. A. Lee

  At most, she hoped to own her own gallery and discover a talented artist who would change the world with his or her art, at best, maybe curator for a major metropolitan museum. Even that was only a fantasy.

  Taking pictures and greeting France’s most prestigious and influential gallery owners, Brooke blushed when they said she was inspirational, her work a triumph.

  The fact that she didn’t look like a dark and edgy artist was even more amazing to them.

  Every other night she was at a new gallery, greeting admirers and being invited to parties.

  Shopping. The one thing Brooke had not been interested in on her first visit was something she looked forward to on her afternoons off. Waking to say “good morning” to MJ, Brooke would sleep for a few hours then she was off to shopping and exploring the city.

  The most special moment of the trip was when she took her son to the Eiffel Tower and they took a picture, looking very happy. Even though she was not around, MJ was busy with friends and birthdays and museums.

  The most intense moment of the trip was when Jenny invited her to have dinner with her, and her alone.

  Meeting at the most expensive restaurant in the city, Brooke was not excited at the adventure that had been a fantasy. Her fantasy did not contain a meeting with her second husband’s girlfriend in the aftermath of the loss of her only love.

  Sitting in a booth in the middle of the room, strategically placed where every man would be able to admire the both of them, Brooke only had one thought on her mind and only Jenny could answer that puzzle.

  At this moment in time, they were equals. On one side there was Brooke, highly successful near the top of her burgeoning career, and on the other side Jenny, sophisticated and elegant, every man’s fantasy.

  Ordering the most expensive champagne in the restaurant, or in France for that matter, Jenny proposed a toast in her beautiful, perfect French accent.

  “To a successful tour!” Jenny proclaimed and they clinked glasses and drank their champagne.

  “How does it feel to be the talk of the town?” her host asked while smiling at people who passed by and admired the two spectacular women.

  “It is beyond my wildest imagination,” Brooke confessed. “I am enjoying every moment.”

  “I know we never got a moment to talk to each other,” Jenny said. “So, I thought it would be nice to get together and just have ‘girl talk’ as they say in the States.” Brooke was still not clear what part of Europe Jenny was from. She had a European accent, but Brooke wasn’t sophisticated enough to know from which country.

  It was hard to look at Jenny in the eyes when she spoke to her though, they were so bright and inquisitive and magical.

  “How does your husband feel about your success,” Jenny asked with mischief. “Is he jealous that all the men in France are in love with you?”

  Gulping, Brooke took a drink from her champagne glass.

  “My husband is a successful man himself,” she said. “We have an understanding. He can see his beautiful mistress and I can pursue my career.”

  Brooke had stepped over a line, but her desire to understand Jenny’s intentions with Jake trumped propriety.

  Gasping, Jenny leaned in close.

  “I have a confession to make,” she whispered loudly. “My marriage is the same way. We have that in common,” Jenny said, clinking Brooke’s glass. Containing herself, Brooke was stunned the woman found pleasure in sharing a connection with Brooke. She had just told the woman her marriage was a fake, and the woman thought it was great they had that in common. It was the perfect opening for Brooke.

  “So do you have someone on the side as well?” Brooke asked mischievously as if she had a lover on the side in addition to her husband. She had no desire to confront Jenny about Jake, but she truly needed to know if Jenny felt the same way about Jake, who was deeply in love with the woman. This was the love of his life.

  Excited and surprised by the question, Jenny shared with her new best friend.

  “I do, darling,” she shared. “We’ve been seeing each other for years. He’s such a beautiful man, but he doesn’t understand my obligations. He’s a romantic but there’s no way I can leave my husband. He can’t offer me what I want. I know it breaks his heart, but he has to accept I’m happy with what we have.”

  “What’s that?” Brooke asked as casually as she could, with just a sprinkling of jealous curiosity.

  “We have a great time together, that’s all,” she sighed. “You understand, right darling,” she said raising her glass.

  “I do,” Brooke said and raised her glass as well. Taking a long drink, Brooke studied Jenny. It was fun for her, the relationship she had with Jake. It would never be more than that. While Jake waited for the moment when Jenny would finally agree to settle down with him, even if it was not as a married couple, Jenny never had any intention of leaving the life she craved. Jake was wasting away and Jenny was living her life to the fullest extent.

  Knowledge was not power. It ripped open doors of curiosity that could never be shut again, laid bare emotions that were never meant to be unwrapped, and stripped the veil from assumptions. Knowledge was not power. It was the opposite. Brooke had full knowledge of Jenny’s relationship with Jake, and was not filled with information for which she had power to change anything.

  Even if she went to Jake and told him how Jenny felt, he would never believe anything than what was in his heart.

  It was also ironic that Brooke didn’t have a problem using the woman’s influence to advance her career.

  Brooke didn’t feel powerful or content or angry. She only felt sorry for Jake. He had given his love freely and it was not returned. Brooke had all the love in the world and it had been reciprocated. Even though Jake didn’t feel the same for Brooke as Matthew did, it did not matter to her. Her love was gone. What she felt for Jake was strong, but not anywhere near what she felt for Matthew.

  “Shall we order?” Brooke asked.

  Declaring she was famished, Jenny told the waiter to ask the chef to make them something special.

  Brooke was sure the meal was the most exquisite masterpiece she would ever eat in her life, but the conversation with Jenny had only left a bitter aftertaste. As usual, Brooke didn’t think before entering treacherous territory.

  Parting, the women hugged.

  “I’ll see you at the gallery tomorrow, darling,” she said and Brooke thanked her for everything she had done for her.

  Hailing a taxi, Jenny wished her well and the car drove off into the night.

  Brooke let go of all the tension with one long groan.

  She was in a relationship with a man who loved a woman who didn’t love him back. Walking down the street past all the shops and restaurants, Brooke realized that she should have been enjoying her time in Paris, but everything in her life back home shadowed the pleasure she should have felt.

  She could walk away. That was an option. Divorce happened all the time.

  This time she needed to think it through. It was one thing to provide her son with a family that was a placeholder at best, it would be devastating to pull him out of the same family when she wasn’t one hundred percent sure her marriage would not work out.

  There was no way she would achieve the same level of love she had with Matthew, but now she knew she could be with someone else.

  Arriving home, Brooke checked in on MJ and kissed his forehead. In the living room, she thanked the nanny, who retired to her room. Alone, Brooke lay down on the couch. She had another busy day and just needed to rest.

  Sunlight pierced her sleep and MJ stood before her waiting for her to open her eyes. Sitting up, Brooke squinted.

  “Good morning, mom,” he said cheerfully. “Do you want crepes?”

  Smiling, Brooke hugged and kissed her son. He was almost fluent for a child his age. But most of all he was adjusting well.

  “Are you happy?” she asked, looking into the eyes he shared with his father.

  “Yes
!” he exclaimed. “We’re going to ride a merry go round today!”

  Brooke really wished she could join them, but she was there for business. She would spend time with him when they got back home. Wherever that was.

  Falling back to sleep in her own bed and nightgown when they left, Brooke woke when her alarm went off. Showering and dressing, she made her way to the center of town in a cab.

  Arriving as the party was just starting, Brooke followed the guests inside the gallery. Inside, Jenny introduced her to influential art collectors and admirers. Upon seeing one of the guests, Brooke froze when she wanted to run.

  Standing and looking at her work was Michael. Matthew’s best friend from college, the man she dated until she met Matthew. She hadn’t seen him since the funeral and Brooke felt the same pain she did that day. Before she could escape, Michael turned and smiled.

  As her throat tightened, numbness overcame her and she stood while he walked up to her. It was college and the funeral, all the good times and bad times rolled into one moment.

  “Hello, Brooke,” he said in English and he held out his hand. Brooke took his hand and Michael just held it softly as he stared into her eyes. Only this man knew the extent of her pain. All her pain was splattered in the dozen art pieces on the wall, and only he knew how it got there.

  “Hello, Michael,” she whispered. Interrupted by admirers, Michael let go of her hand and Brooke apologized as she was pulled away. Flashes blinded her, the noise overwhelmed her and she needed air. Gently pushing her way outside, Brooke stood in the night air and just breathed.

  “It’s not your scene, is it?” she heard Michael say as he walked up to her with his hands in his pants pockets. Standing on the sidewalk, they watched the traffic go by and didn’t say anything to one another.

  “I can’t leave right now, Michael,” she said, turning to him. “If you want to talk some other time, that would be good.”

  Pulling out a business card from his inside jacket pocket, Michael handed her his card and nodded.

  “Congratulations, Brooke,” he said as she took the card. “Matthew would have been proud.”

  Brooke closed her eyes and held her breath. She could not cry right now.

  “There you are,” Jenny called in French. “I want you to meet a very important person,” she said, holding Brooke’s arm and coaxing her back into the gallery. Looking back, Brooke saw Michael walking away.

  Would she have the strength to call him?

  It was the only thought on her mind as she entertained guests, took pictures and thanked everyone for coming to her exhibition.

  Hours later, she was sitting on her couch looking at Michael’s business card. Holding her phone in her hand, she had gotten the courage to push the number buttons, but didn’t have the strength to push the dial button.

  Without thinking, she hit the dial button.

  “Bonjour?” Michael asked. Brooke had woken him.

  “Michael,” she whispered. “Can we meet tomorrow?” she asked in English.

  “Brooke,” he said. “Meet me at the gallery at noon. It’s near my place.”

  “See you tomorrow,” she whispered and hung up.

  It was set. Tomorrow she would meet with Michael.

  Lying in bed staring at the ceiling, Brooke thought about everything she could talk about with Michael and realized it would not make Matthew proud.

  Seeing MJ off, Brooke put on a pleasant dress and promised herself in the mirror not to cry.

  Taking a cab to the gallery, Brooke saw Michael leaning against the wall and he walked toward her when she got out of the cab. Handing the driver the fare, Brooke turned to Michael. They stood there quietly for a moment and Brooke lost her resolve. Michael embraced her and consoled her.

  Wiping her tears, Brooke sighed.

  “Let’s go somewhere quiet,” she said and Michael led her to his flat.

  Offering Brooke a drink, Michael waited for her to answer.

  “Sparkling water,” she said.

  As he went to get her drink, Brooke continued to be distracted.

  When he got back, Michael tried to figure out what she was looking at then he picked up a frame, took it over to the couch and sat next to Brooke.

  Holding the precious frame, Brooke remembered the day the photo was taken. It was at college just after she started dating Michael and had just met Matthew.

  Michael had seen her at a party, and their love of the French culture brought them together. It was the only thing they had in common and they never took their relationship beyond a few dates. Taking her home to his apartment he shared with Matthew, Brooke met the man who would not only be her husband and love of her life, but the father of her only child.

  “He fell in love with you that day I took you back to our apartment,” he said and tears fell naturally down her cheeks as Michael reminisced.

  “Can I have a copy?” she asked, staring at the precious photo.

  “I’ll send you a copy,” he promised. Brooke nodded and handed him back the photo. When he handed her the sparkling water, Brooke noticed he wasn’t wearing his wedding band.

  “What happened?” she asked, pointing to his bare ring finger. Michael had eloped with a woman he had met at a bar after she and Matthew got married. Brooke had never met the woman and hadn’t spoken to Michael since the funeral.

  Self-conscious of his bare hand, Michael covered his ring finger with his other hand.

  “It wasn’t like what you and Matthew had,” he explained. “It was great but soon we realized it wasn’t great enough to last.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brooke said and wanted to cry for him, and her, and everything they had endured.

  “Thank you,” he said. Lightening the mood, Michael changed the subject from personal to professional.

  “You’ve come a long way since working in that gallery,” he said cheerfully. Brooke sighed.

  “I woke up one day with this idea,” she said, gesturing with her hands. “Didn’t stop until it was out of my head. Took a photo, sent it to my old gallery contacts and here I am.”

  Michael smiled.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I own a consulting company and I spend most of my time here in Paris,” he said, looking around his home. If Brooke lived in France, Michael’s flat would have been something she would have chosen for herself.

  “What about your son?” he asked quietly.

  “He’s doing great,” she replied.

  “How are you doing?” he asked and Brooke stopped a groan from escaping, but one tear got past her. Looking at Michael she didn’t know where to start.

  “I’m adjusting,” she said.

  “I saw your art, Brooke,” Michael said as he placed a comforting hand on her cheek. “That’s not adjustment.”

  Pressing her cheek against his hand, Brooke agreed.

  “I married a man for security and now my son calls him daddy and he’s still in love with another woman and I don’t know how to fix my life,” she blurted.

  “That’s more like the Brooke I know,” he joked and wiped away her tear. Smiling, Brooke grabbed his hand and kissed it quickly.

  “Crude,” she replied. “That’s the Michael I know,” she joked and they spent the afternoon talking about everything.

  As the afternoon sun pulled away from them, Brooke hugged Michael and made him promise to stop by her place and see MJ.

  Parting, Brooke headed home and for the first time in a while felt the burden of loneliness lifted and replaced with the knowledge she had a friend who knew her pain and shared her joy.

  Bringing presents, Michael stopped by two days later and he told MJ all about his father and their friendship. Brooke watched as MJ listened in fascination and asked questions only a friend of Matthew’s could answer.

  Reading her son a story for bedtime, as he had a few times before in better times, Michael promised to tell MJ more stories, shook hands and joined Brooke in the living room.

  “That
was very sweet of you,” Brooke said. “I can’t tell him stories without getting emotional.”

  Michael hugged Brooke.

  “He has his father’s eyes,” he whispered. “That must be wonderful and hard at the same time.”

  Nodding into his chest, Brooke agreed.

  Sighing, she wiped away her tears.

  “I’m leaving soon,” she said. “Can we get together before I head back to the States?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said and hugged her again before departing.

  Closing the door, Brooke leaned up against the wall and slid down until she was crouched on the floor.

  What if she had reached out to Michael? Would things have turned out differently? He told her to call if she needed anything, but Brooke thought her situation required more than just a shoulder to cry on.

  Sighing, Brooke went to bed. She had another exhibition and needed her rest.

  Longing for her own bed, Brooke thought about Jake for the first time in days.

  He hadn’t called. She was very harsh to him that day and was too angry to say good-bye.

  Jealous. That was how Brooke felt. It took her a while to figure it out, but she was so angry because Jake was more concerned about losing Jenny than congratulating her on her success.

  It was a revelation. If he had to choose, Jake would choose Jenny.

  There was no more waiting. Brooke had to find a way to transition out of Jake’s life. It would pain his mother, but she could still be MJ’s grandmother. That relationship didn’t have to end.

  As the tour winded to an end, Brooke met up with Michael again and he had a copy of the photo.

  Grateful, Brooke hugged him and they ended up at his place. At some point, one of them made a move and Brooke was in his embrace as they kissed. Pulling her on the couch, they kissed, at times tender, at times passionate and at other times consoling.

  Breathless as she pulled away, she looked into his eyes and saw that he was interested in more.

  Standing and buttoning her blouse, Brooke grabbed her things and apologized.