“But you don't want to act like it. That's the problem. You want to pretend you're twenty-five. If I wanted another child, I'd adopt one. That's not the relationship I want with you.” She had raised her voice, too, in answer to his.
“What relationship do you want with me? I thought we worked things out just fine last Friday. And we didn't do badly this weekend, either. I don't want to just go to bed with you. I like talking to you, too.”
“So do I. But you're a luxury I can't afford.”
“You are surely and without a doubt the most stubborn woman I know. I'll be there on Friday, whether you like it or not. We can argue about it this weekend.”
“I don't want to see you,” she said, feeling panicked. Her feelings for him made her feel out of control.
“Well, I want to see you. One more time at least, to discuss this face-to-face. I can't talk about things like this on the phone.”
“There's nothing to discuss. This is impossible, Liam. We have to accept that. We have no other choice.”
“You're the one who's making it impossible. It's only impossible if you want it to be.” He sounded frustrated beyond words.
“Then let's just say I do.”
“This is the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
“Doing the right thing feels that way sometimes. But in this case, that's what we're going to do.” She didn't say that if he had done the right thing with Becky, he would still have his wife and kids with him. Instead, he had indulged himself. And he was trying to do that again, with her.
“I'll call you tomorrow,” he said, sounding depressed. If anything, she had gotten firmer in her resolve not to get involved with him, despite the dog, which was a lovely gift, but still didn't convince her that he was the man for her.
“Don't call me, unless it's about gallery business. I don't want to discuss this with you again. We just go around and around, and drive each other crazy.” But he drove her even more so when she was near him. She had never been as physically attracted to any man in her life. It was hard for her to understand and even harder still to resist.
“I'll call you this week,” he said, but didn't, which Sasha felt was a relief. It pained her to do it, but she believed she had finally persuaded him to let it go. No matter how much she wanted to be with him again, she knew she couldn't.
The one consolation in her life that week was the joy of the puppy Liam had sent her. Socks was adorable, and despite frequent accidents on her carpets, Sasha was enchanted with her. It had been the best gift he could give her. The next best gift was leaving her alone, which he did.
The weather was awful in Paris again that weekend, gray wintry days that seemed relentless. Foggy mornings, rainy nights, and depressing afternoons with bitter winds that chilled you to the bone. She worked late on Friday, went to bed early, and was at her desk at the gallery by nine the next morning, with the dog. Everyone was in love with Socks, even Bernard.
Sasha worked in the gallery all day Saturday, and she was sitting alone in her house with the puppy on Saturday night. Liam hadn't called her since Monday, and in some ways, she was relieved. In others, she was sad. She was crazy about him, but in every way that mattered, he was forbidden fruit. A fruit she was determined not to touch or eat, whatever it cost her. He was a sacrifice she had to make.
It was nine o'clock on Saturday night when her doorbell rang. It wasn't the outer door, but the one to her house. Sasha assumed it was the guardian, since she hadn't heard the bell ring on the big bronze outer door. She was carrying the puppy and wearing her nightgown when she opened it. She expected to look into the ancient face of Madame Barboutier, and instead found herself looking up at Liam. He had shown up after all.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, unhappy to see him. Her heart was pounding and her knees felt weak. But there was no sign of it on her face, and she offered him no warm welcome. She had told him not to come.
“I came to see my god-dog.” Sasha was holding her, and he looked down at Socks and smiled. “She looks good.” So did he. Sasha didn't. She looked tired and upset, and she was. She had been suffering over him all week. Keeping up her resolve about him had been anything but easy. And now there he was, on her doorstep, looking more beautiful than ever. He was everything she wanted, and couldn't allow herself to have. She was putting up all the resistance she could.
“I asked you not to come here,” she said coldly, on the verge of tears.
“I want to talk to you, Sasha,” he said, looking serious. She could see in his eyes that he was unhappy, too. “Why don't we just do this for a while, and see what happens? Maybe it won't be a big deal after all.”
“And if it is? Then what? My kids go nuts. My artists think I'm a fruitcake. And we become the talk of Paris and New York.” She didn't paint a pretty picture, but what she described could easily happen and be true. And he knew it, too.
“Do you ever think about anything but disaster or what other people think?” he asked, standing there, still holding his bag. “What if it actually turned out okay? What if people don't give a damn what we do? What if your artists could care less, and your kids want you to be happy, even if that means being with a younger guy? This could turn out to be no big deal.”
“Until you find some girl your age, or younger, and fall in love with her. I don't want to go through that, either.”
“What if I die, or you do? What if we're struck by lightning one night when we're making love? What about cholera, diphtheria, measles? What if we get nuked in a world war?”
“I'd rather get nuked than make a fool of myself with you. I just don't want to go there, Liam. I'd rather be alone.”
“Don't be so silly. I've been in love twice in my life, once with Beth, which lasted for twenty years, and now with you. I've never told anyone I loved them, except the two of you.”
“You just want me because you can't have me,” Sasha said miserably. She was shivering in the cold and so was the dog.
“Can I at least come in for a minute? I've been driving for hours. They canceled my flight, so I took the Chunnel.” She stepped aside, wishing she had the courage not to let him in, but she didn't. As it had been since she had met him, she didn't have the strength to resist, as he walked slowly into her living room. All the lights were out and the room was cold. She was planning to go to bed with the dog. “All right, I give up. Let me spend the night. I won't touch you. I'll leave tomorrow before you get up. I'm too tired to drive back tonight.” She looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded. He could sleep in Xavier's room again. She was going to lock her bedroom door. More to keep herself in than him out.
“Do you want something to eat?” she asked politely, setting the dog down.
“Do you have any ice cream?”
“I think so. We bought a lot last week, and I didn't eat it.”
“You should. It would do you good.” He thought she was too thin. She looked like she had lost more weight that week—he hoped it was from her agony over him.
He followed her into the kitchen, with Socks right behind them. She peed on the kitchen floor, and Liam cleaned it up, while Sasha served him chocolate and coffee ice cream in a giant bowl.
“Do you want anything else?” He shook his head, sat down at the kitchen table, and said nothing. There was nothing much left for either of them to say. They had said it all. She had never been through anything as upsetting as this, other than her husband's death sixteen months before. Sasha sat quietly while he ate. And when he was finished, she stood up. “I'm going to bed. You can sit in the living room if you want. You know where Xavier's room is.”
“Thanks, I'm tired, too. I'll go upstairs.” He followed her up, and she left him on the landing. She could hear him go up the flight to the top floor a moment later, and close Xavier's bedroom door.
She went to run a bath, and had the puppy with her. She didn't bother to lock her door. She knew she didn't need to. He had finally understood, and in the morning he'd be gone. The whole miser
able episode of temptation, indulgence, and torture would be over. She could hardly wait for him to leave.
She was standing in her bathroom, brushing her teeth, in her nightgown, when she looked up and saw Liam in the mirror. She hadn't heard him come in. The puppy got excited the minute she saw him, and Sasha looked pained.
“I understand, Sasha. I just want to spend the night with you. One last time. I just want to hold you. I promise I won't do anything you don't want.” The problem was she did want. That had been the problem right from the first. She started to shake her head, and met his eyes in the mirror. There were tears in his eyes and hers too. Without a sound, she dropped her toothbrush, turned to face him, and held out her arms. She wanted to spend one last night with him too. She just wanted to hold him and feel him close to her, before they released each other for good. This moment would never come again, and they both knew it. She nodded silently, as tears rolled down her cheeks. “It's okay, baby … it's okay… everything is going to be all right …I promise …” he murmured.
“No, it isn't.” They both knew it, but just being there with him felt good. A moment later, they snuggled into her big bed in the chilly room. The puppy was sleeping in her own bed in Sasha's bathroom. Liam turned out the light, and they just held each other and said nothing. She was wearing her nightgown, and Liam was wearing jockey shorts, a T-shirt, and socks. He had bought another pair just for her.
“I love you,” he whispered as he held her.
“Me, too,” she said sadly. “I wish things were different.” She wished she were younger, and a different person, so she could feel more comfortable about being with him. She didn't love him as she had Arthur. But she was so powerfully attracted to him, and already felt attached to him. This was different from anything she had ever experienced. Perhaps more than love, it was passion. But whatever it was, it felt dangerous to her, and was agony to resist.
“This is all we need for now,” he whispered back, grateful to be holding her, and in her bed with her. It was more than he had dared hope for, when he drove to Paris from London. He had been afraid she wouldn't even open the door, and he was grateful that she had. “How am I going to live without you, Sasha?” She didn't answer his question, but she was thinking the same thing. They had managed until now. They'd have to manage again after this. All they had was tonight. He was dying to make love to her, but he didn't want to do anything to spoil it. He held her close until she fell asleep.
She felt him stir beside her in the morning, and she was instantly awake. She knew he was going to leave as soon as he got up. She lay beside him, waiting for him to leave her bed. He didn't move for a long time, in the pearl gray early-morning light in the room.
“Are you awake?” he whispered, and she nodded. “Do you want me to go now?” With every ounce of her she didn't, but she had to let him go.
“In a minute,” she whispered. She reached toward him and held him close to her. She could hardly breathe it was so intoxicating to be with him. And as she held him, she could feel him aroused. Their bodies were glued to each other, and then suddenly they were kissing. The rest happened without either of them willing it after that, and he was terrified when they stopped. He knew that this time she would never forgive him, and he would never see her again. He had broken his promise to her, and couldn't stop himself from wanting her too much. “I love you,” she said softly. And then she pulled away just enough to look at him. Their faces were next to each other on the pillow, and he had never seen anyone as beautiful in his life, whatever her age. “What are we going to do?”
“You tell me,” he whispered back, and held his breath.
“I don't know…I don't want to lose you… I've already lost too much.” She just couldn't bring herself to let him go. At least not yet.
“Can I stay for a while?” She nodded, and he held her, and a little while later they made love again. They spent the whole day in bed, alternately sleeping, holding each other, and making love. Eventually, he brought food up for the puppy, and two bowls of ice cream for them.
“Have I gone insane?” she asked him, as she ate chocolate ice cream, lying in bed with him. This was all she wanted. Being there with him, with ice cream dribbling down her chin. He gently wiped it off.
“I've never been saner in my life. I can't speak for you.”
“This feels like a dream.”
“If it is, it's a very good dream.” He smiled at her and kissed her.
They stayed in bed together all day Sunday. They shared a bath in her bathtub and went downstairs long enough to eat dinner, and then hurried back to bed, like children running from their parents. There was no one to run from. Nowhere to hide. Sometime during the weekend, Sasha stepped over the line into his arms. She had no idea what they would do now. All she knew was that she wanted to be with him, for however long it lasted.
They cooked together, ate dinner laughing and talking easily, played with the dog, did the dishes, and then rushed back to bed and made love again.
“I'm too old for this,” she said afterward, barely able to catch her breath.
“So am I.” He laughed. “You're wearing me out.” And then she looked at him, worried.
“When are you going back?”
“How about never?” He was teasing her, but they both liked the idea. “What if I spend the week here?” It would be a good experiment to see how they did in real life. Sasha hadn't expected him to make the offer, but she liked the idea.
“I could tell everyone at the gallery that you came to meet them, and you're staying with me as a guest.” He knew she felt she had to explain things, but however she did that worked for him.
“Sounds fine to me. Or you could just tell them I'm your boyfriend, and we'll be in bed all week.” She looked nervous when he said it, and he kissed her. “Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything to embarrass you.”
“You better not,” she warned him.
“I promise.”
They lay in bed together and held each other close that night. Sasha was excited at the prospect of spending a week with him. The day before she had promised herself she would give him up, and in the course of a single weekend, she had decided to risk her life with him. She had no other choice now, whether this was possible or not. They would soon find out.
Chapter 8
Sasha looked even more respectable than usual when she, Liam, and Socks walked across the courtyard to her offices on Monday morning. The gallery was closed on Monday, but the offices were open, and it was a good chance for all of them to catch up on deskwork. Sasha was wearing black slacks and a black sweater. And Liam looked like Liam. He was wearing cowboy boots, a leather jacket, white T-shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap. They were planning to go out to buy him more T-shirts and some underwear that afternoon. He hadn't brought enough to last the week, since he only planned to be there for the weekend.
Sasha introduced him to all her employees. He was easy and pleasant, and everyone seemed to enjoy meeting him. He had sent them slides of his work the week before. Bernard said they were anxious to show it. They talked about his solo show in New York at the end of the year. In the meantime, both branches of the gallery were going to show his work, in Paris and New York.
It was an incredible opportunity for him. And Eugénie nearly fainted when she saw him. She told Sasha afterward that she had never seen a man as beautiful in her life. Nor had Sasha. That was part of the problem that was doing her in.
That night, as they talked about the gallery, he lay sprawled out on her bed like a young lion, after they made love.
“So what did you think?” she asked him. She was interested in his opinion, from an artist's point of view. She had a rare opportunity for insider information from him, as an artist evaluating the gallery. It was an interesting perspective for a dealer, and she respected his opinion, although her own as well. Her instincts had always been extremely good about the gallery and her artists.
“What did I think?” He looked blank. He w
as still catching his breath from what they'd just done, and surprised she was thinking of work. “Well, let's see … better than last night … not as good as this morning … maybe I was tired…I thought the best ever was on Sunday afternoon in the bathtub …” He went on cataloging and comparing their sexual exploits, as Sasha giggled.
“Liam! Stop it! I meant about the gallery and the employees.”
“Oh, that. Very nice. I liked everyone.” He was much more interested in making love to her than talking about work.
“Be serious for a minute,” she chided him. She loved sharing her work with him. She had loved that with Arthur, too.
“Serious? If we make love any more often, I'm going to collapse in your arms, and you'll have to revive me. I'm older than I look.”
“So am I,” she said, with a look of regret.
“I've never done this so often in my life. I'm beginning to feel like a sex toy,” he said, looking worried. “Come to think of it, maybe I am. Is that all I am to you?” He was serious for a moment.
“Don't be silly,” Sasha said, lying back on her pillow. But she had to admit, she was having fun with him. A lot of it.
“I feel like the sex slave of the Faubourg St. Honoré. Maybe I should call the SAMU to rescue me.” The SAMU were the paramedics, the French equivalent of 911.
“I think you're becoming an addiction,” Sasha admitted, but she was having too much fun now to worry. She had put her fears on the back burner for the week, and was enjoying having him around every day.
“Maybe we should go to a twelve-step group. Love Slaves Anonymous. But hell, why spoil our fun?” He looked amused.
“Exactly,” she said, as she leaned over to kiss him. Neither of them could believe it, but they made love again before they went to sleep, and again before she went to work the next day. She felt girlish and giddy and tried not to act it, when she walked in.
Liam arrived shortly after, and enjoyed seeing the gallery once it was open. Sasha was pleased to discover that Bernard had invited Liam to lunch. They all seemed to like him, which was at least something. She'd been worried about how he would fit in, but so far he did.
Impossible Page 13
