Stay With Me (9 page)

His eyebrows were relaxed. There was a hint of a smile in his eyes, and caution in his movements from the time he picked her up until he held her head still against his chest.

He was behaving like a father. He’d learned fast, faster than I would have predicted. He was a father and he’d understood it, felt it. It was the equivalent of the maternal instinct.

I ran my hand on my throat and rubbed my eyes. I suddenly felt like moaning out of pleasure. It was a celestial vision, something I would always think back on.

Perhaps I’d never again have the opportunity to witness a scene as beautiful as that, but I would safeguard it in my heart.

Andrew returned to me in the living room. The time for goodbyes had arrived. I was supposed to escort him to the door, shake his hand, and say goodbye. Maybe even organize another date for him and Olivia.

But instead, no. I remained nailed to my spot, silent. I wanted him to stay a while longer. Just to have a moment that would be only ours. But it was inappropriate, terribly so, and I would appear as a woman who was frustrated and depressed and in need of attention from an ex—an ex who was about to get married, no less.

While I fought my internal war, Andrew sat down on the couch, and I went over to his side. My nervous system was entirely upside down.

“Olivia is adorable,” he whispered proudly. “You did a good job.”

I was ecstatic. It was absolutely the best compliment he could’ve given me. “Thank you.”

“Tell me about her,” he said as he made himself more comfortable.

I got up and went to open the cupboard, taking out a photo album.

“Here.” I handed it to him, taking a seat next to him.

“Are they of her?” he asked as he opened the album.

“Yes, I love photographing her. Here she was just born. I took it the day after we’d been released from the hospital.”

He remained silent while looking at the photos.

“This one I took the first time we went out.” I laughed as I noticed how shy I sounded. “It was the end of October; the wind was frigid.” I turned the page and lit up as I saw the photo of her first Christmas. “God, her first Christmas. Mag had given her a red velvet romper. She was so precious.”

“I see . . .” he said, devouring every image.

“Here’s her first time in the playpen.” Another page, more pictures of Olivia having her bath, followed by photos of her first baby tooth.

I’d immortalized everything, every moment, every change. I’d even taken videos, which I would show him one of these nights.

I continued explaining every photo: her first bowl of mush, the first time she held her glass up on her own, the first day of preschool. Her first pizza, her first ice cream cone. Her first fall, her first time on rides. The days at the zoo, her first dip in the pool . . .

I went on recounting for another hour. When I finished, he had a lost look. It must have been difficult to reconcile all of those moments, all of those firsts he hadn’t been a part of.

I closed the album and went to get up, but just then, a picture fell and landed on Andrew’s leg.

He lifted it carefully and his eyes widened.

“It’s you.”

I looked at the image. It was me when I was seven months pregnant. I remembered when it had been taken.

I was with Mag and Josy at the beach. The bathing suit didn’t hide my enormous belly, and I smiled, resting my hand on my stomach.

“God.” He was about to say something else, but he stopped himself, and put his hand on his forehead without moving his attention away from the photograph. “You were truly magnificent.” He caressed the photo, then turned toward me, looking at me with an intensity that pained me.

“Were you always well? Your pregnancy, I mean . . . did it all go well?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “Even the delivery. It wasn’t a walk in the park, but with Mag and Alys close by, I managed wonderfully.”

“I wish I could have been there.” He spoke with a throttle in his throat. “I should have been the one behind the camera . . .” He held the photo tightly.

“Andrew, I’m sorry, I—”

“You don’t need to apologize. The blame is certainly not all yours.”

No, it wasn’t. But I didn’t say it. I leaned my head back on the chair and turned to look at him.

“What are you looking at, Zoe?” he said, keeping his eyes steady on me.

“I was noticing how much you’ve aged,” I said, trying to lighten the moment since it was too charged.

Andrew laughed and tossed his head back as well, leaning in to mine. “I’m still in the top rankings for the most desirable men.”

He was so close. I only needed to move an inch to kiss him and feel the taste of the one I loved so much, who I’d missed to death.

My voice became hoarse. “The rankings made for widows over sixty?”

“I’m not complaining.” He flashed a sweet smile, which made my stomach reverberate. I knew those eyes. Damn it, I knew them too well. And they’d grown murky and dark as they did every time he was feeling desirous.

Nervously, I moved my hands. “I have no doubts of that. You’d be capable of going to bed with a mummy.”

He laughed even harder. His forehead was now leaning on mine and his fingers slid on top of my abdomen, reaching my hip, caressing it slowly.

I held my breath, though my heart had already taken off.

“Your sharp tongue . . .” he said.

“It’s not sharp, it’s poisonous.”

I was paralyzed. He was breathing on my mouth. I wanted to kiss him. I wished he would kiss me and put an end to the agony, which had lasted four years.

“Poisonous tongue. Mmm . . . I love a challenge. Let me taste, Zoe,” he mumbled, brushing my lips. “Let’s see if it’s as poisonous as you say.”

He slowly came closer to my face, granting me the time to refuse him. And I thought about it. For a fraction of a second, my brain had devised a plan of escape, but it didn’t know it had to contend with my heart.

And my heart won out.

I closed my eyes and awaited the contact with those lips I’d so yearned for, and when I finally recognized their taste, I felt reborn. I’d been dead and hadn’t even known it.

Every cell of my body reawakened from a four-year hibernation as soon as our tongues interlaced. I vigorously grabbed on to him, encircling his neck, and pulled him toward me.

How could I have lived without his kisses?

I felt his hands wandering around my body, caressing my legs, and he was already close to the elastic band on my shorts when his cell phone ring shattered the magic of the moment.

He moved away from me, panting, and stretched to grab his phone on the table.

“Hi. Yes, and you? Good.” He got up and walked away from me. “I’m about to go into the hotel . . . no, friends. Yes, you’ll meet them . . .”

I watched him attentively. He walked back and forth without ever looking toward me. Every so often he ran his hand through his hair out of frustration.

“Of course, darling. Until tomorrow. Yes, me too.”

Reality came crashing down on me like an enormous Ashley-shaped mass.

I’d forgotten she existed. He’d made me forget about everything that wasn’t us.

Stupid!

Andrew put his phone in his pocket and turned to look at me. His eyes were tormented. He wanted to say something, but he stood still.

I tried to compose myself and ignore the raging beat of my heart. I slowly got up from the couch and went over to him.

I had déjà vu. I felt I was re-experiencing that morning: our last morning together.

He scrutinized me in silence without moving a muscle, and when the distance between us was only a few inches, he took a step back and looked down at the floor.

“Sorry, Zoe, I shouldn’t have . . .” He sighed, putting his hands in his pocket. “I allowed myself to get swept away by everything. It was a mistake.”

Those words were like a bucket of cold water on my flicker of hope.

“What exactly was a mistake?” I asked mockingly. “Spending the day with Olivia, or having almost gotten into my pants again?”

“Zoe, I beg you. It’s difficult for me!”

“It’s difficult for you? Do you think it’s a stroll for me?” I was trying not to scream.

“I didn’t say that.”

I walked over to the door and opened it. “It would be better if you left now.”

“Zoe,” he pled.

“Go, Andrew. Now.”

“No!” In two strides he was in front of me, and he closed the door behind me. “If you want me to go away now, you have to promise me something.”

“I don’t owe you a damn thing!”

“If I’m not mistaken, Zoe,” he said slowly, “that girl in there is my daughter, and you kept her hidden from me for almost four years. I’d say you are indebted to me.”

It had taken so little to erase the last few hours. We’d come back to where we’d started.

“I’ll never deny you the chance to spend time with her,” I answered indignantly.

“And yet you did!” he hissed.

“You wouldn’t have wanted us then.” I don’t know why I said the words, but I immediately regretted saying them. I was already on the verge of the abyss, and Andrew gave me the decisive push.

“It was you I didn’t want!” he said.

And I fell.

9

“I don’t believe it.” Alys looked at me in shock after I finished telling her what had happened with Andrew. “I leave you alone for one single day, Zoe, and this happens to you!” She threw herself on the couch in disbelief. “He’s truly an asshole.”

I couldn’t help but confirm it. “Yes, he is.”

“Finally!” she cried out, applauding.

“Finally what?”

“Zoe, in four years, this is the first time you’ve called him what he is: asshole!”

“Alys, you know it’s not like that. At least he wasn’t before,” I explained. “He was never obligated to do anything. It was clear from the beginning. But what happened yesterday wasn’t supposed to happen. And he behaved badly.” I brought my cup of coffee to my lips.

“To me, he’ll always be ‘the asshole,’ especially now that he’s with that ditz. God—”

The sound of the doorbell interrupted Alyssa’s umpteenth tirade against Ashley, and I thanked the timing of the person behind the door, because I no longer wanted to talk about the situation. I was still shocked by what Andrew had told me the night before. I’d dreamed about it for four years, but to actually hear it said out loud in that way had been a coup de grâce.

I opened the door and nearly choked on my coffee. Andrew was in front of me, and without any ceremony, he walked past me into the apartment.

“What are you doing here?” I asked coldly.

“I took the afternoon off. I want to spend time with Olivia,” he said, only then noticing Alys’s presence. “Oh, hi.”

She didn’t answer him, but stared as though Satan’s child were in front of her. If looks could kill, hers would have incinerated him.

Andrew shook his head and snickered briefly. “How are you, Alyssa?”

“I was fine until thirty seconds ago, and now I’m suffocating,” she responded acidly.

It was like this every time between them. They’d met by chance when Andrew and I used to see each other and they never clicked. She thought he was an asshole and he thought she was a busybody.

“I beg you, don’t start!” I looked between them beseechingly. “Alys . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be on the terrace.” She stood from the couch and walked past Andrew, whispering “asshole.” He looked annoyed, then returned his attention to me.

“Certain things never change, huh?” he asked.

“Evidently,” I groused. “However, Olly’s at preschool.”

“Oh,” he said, disappointed.

I looked at the clock. It was four and preschool had just ended. “The mother of one of her classmates is bringing her home. She should be here shortly,” I replied.

“I’d like to spend a couple of hours with her.”

“You can take her to get ice cream and then to the park,” I said.

“You’re not coming?”

“No.”

“Is it because of what happened last night?”

I nodded without managing any more.

“I didn’t want to say the things I did,” he said.

“And yet you did. But don’t worry. I’ve always known it. Only hearing it out loud from you . . .” I inhaled. “It’s not the same as imagining it.” He came closer, reaching out his hand, but I pulled back. “This isn’t good for me, Andrew. I need you to keep your distance from me, at least physically.”

“Zoe . . .”

“Andew!”
Olivia’s timing couldn’t have been worse.

What was more shocking was she didn’t say a word to me. Instead she ran toward Andrew and jumped into his arms. As though she knew who he really was.

I greeted Georgia, who’d brought her home, and confirmed with her that I’d be the one to pick up Olivia the next day.

“You came back!” I heard Olivia say.

“Yes, I came to get this beautiful princess,” he told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek as I went back to them. “Do you feel like going to have an ice cream with me?”

“Yes, yes!” Olly turned around and, with heart-shaped eyes, asked for permission.

I granted it, gave Andrew clear instructions, and watched them leave.

I caught up with Alyssa on the terrace.

“You know your daughter’s a lot like him, right?”

“Of course I know. I can never manage to say no to her either,” I admitted.

“Things really haven’t changed all that much,” she remarked, stretching out her legs on an empty chair.

“Alys . . .” I implored with a look to not go there, but she ignored it.
She always did.

“How can you do it? How can you still love him? After everything that’s happened.”

I rubbed my face, not knowing what to say. Because I did still love him, more than before.

“I don’t know. I think he’s the one. He’ll always be the one,” I said, defeated, knowing I couldn’t do anything to change that.

“Bullshit! You have to go out with a man. You’ve never really done that.”

“I went out with Jeff,” I protested, making her realize I hadn’t really been at bat for four years.

“Who? Oh, Mr. Hard-For-Only-Five-Minutes?” she asked, amazed.

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“Zoe, you never had an orgasm! Never! That wasn’t a healthy relationship.”

“Well, he was nice, and—”

She raised her hand to cut me off. “No! He doesn’t count. It’s high time for you to go out with someone who lasts longer than the length of a commercial and who doesn’t have a problem starting a face-to-face conversation with your vagina.”

“Alyssa!” I hated when she talked that way, even though I had to admit she was right. I couldn’t continue loving myself on my own. And now that Andrew was so close, all of my hormones had gone completely out of whack.

“You have to go out with someone and turn the page. You can’t live from your memory of someone you never had. That Lucas, the restaurateur. Mag says he’s crazy about you and that he’s a hunk.”

“Mag’s wrong.”

My intuition couldn’t be
so
off, could it?

Six days had gone by since Olivia and Andrew had met. Things were proceeding perfectly between them. They spent time together every day.

I couldn’t manage to stay more than five minutes in the same room with him, though. I felt suffocated. Whenever he’d come fetch her, I’d go over instructions, then make myself scarce as soon as possible. He hadn’t referred to that Sunday or what had happened between us.

But once I’d thought we’d reached equilibrium, Andrew shattered everything. Again.

That Saturday afternoon, he came to get Olivia to take her to Twin Peaks. It was just after ten in the morning and I’d promised her they would be able to spend the whole day together.

Of course I didn’t expect him to drop a bombshell as soon as he arrived.

“I want to tell Ashley about Olivia.”

Boom!

Those words pierced right through me. I would have done anything to not have to include that harpy in our already precarious situation.

“It’s too soon! First we need to tell Olly, and then we can decide how to manage everything. How will we handle things when you and Ashley return to New York, for example?”

“There are airplanes, Zoe. We could come often. That way Ash could see her mother, and I could see my little girl.”

I looked up at the sky. It certainly wasn’t in Ash’s plans to be a stepmother, especially to my daughter. And the thought of having to cross the whole country to spend time with them as husband and wife made me want to puke.

“I know there are airplanes, Andrew, but it seems like we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s first let Olly get used to you, and then we’ll think about how to deal with your fiancée.”

He tilted his head. “You really can’t stand her, huh?”

“No,” I confirmed. “And please check your ego. It has nothing to do with you that our relationship is so cold.”

“And yet she spoke very well of you to me.”

I didn’t answer and grabbed the bag with all of Olivia’s necessities and passed it to him.

“Here. Like I told you, she has no allergies. Rub a little sunscreen on her, and if you need anything, call my cell. In case you erased it, it’s on a piece of paper in this compartment,” I quickly explained.

“You won’t be home?” he asked, furrowing his forehead.

“No.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to help out a friend at his restaurant.” As if I had to justify myself to him. Sometimes I was really absurd. “I’ll get Olly. She’s been waiting for you.”

He smiled, and I started toward my little girl.

I walked to Lucas’s restaurant, the Garden. I’d told him I’d be there by eleven. I needed to walk to release some of the stress that the Andrew Situation was causing me. Lucas’s phone call had been fortuitous.

Lucas ordered my sweets for special occasions like birthdays and engagement parties at his restaurant. When my café was closed for vacation, he relied on a pastry shop downtown, but that morning they’d called to tell him they’d misplaced his order.

On the phone, he’d blurted out, “Fuck, Zoe, how could they have misplaced five hundred cupcakes?”

He was right; it was impossible. They’d probably forgotten and hadn’t made them. Now he was desperate and needed my help. I accepted right away.

I liked Lucas. He was nice, hardworking, and an excellent customer. More than once, Mag had told me to go out with him, because according to her, he was a stud, and he was interested in me.

Lucas was really a nice guy, but after Jeff, I’d cast aside the idea of dating. On top of that, Lucas had never seemed interested in me. He complimented me at times, or would stop by to have coffee with me, but that was it. In all likelihood, Mag had misunderstood and believed Lucas’s natural chivalry came with ulterior motives.

In any case, spending a Saturday making pastries would distract me, and maybe I’d see things more clearly. There is nothing better than doing something you love to help untangle a philosophical knot.

I walked into the Garden at ten to eleven. They were closed all day for the engagement party at five, and the cupcakes were needed for the cake table.

“Hi, Zoe!” Serena the waitress hugged me. “Thank goodness you managed to come. Lucas is going nuts.”

“I can imagine,” I said, returning her hug. “Where is the big boss?” I asked, looking around.

“In the kitchen since dawn. Go ahead in and good luck. You’ll need it.”

“Thanks. See you later, Serena.”

She waved goodbye and went back to setting up the dining room.

I crossed the door to the kitchen with an enormous smile on my face. “Hi, Lucas!”

He jumped. “Zoe, damn it, you want me to die at thirty?” he said, putting his hand on his heart.

“Oh stop, you’re the fittest guy I know.” I patted his cheek.

“Hey, did you come here to make fun of me or make cupcakes like there’s no tomorrow?”

I laughed and grabbed a white apron. “I’m here to work. Tell me everything, boss!” He pointed to a note. Reading it, my eyes opened wide. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shook his head. “Never been more serious. So it’s time you get to work. The clock won’t stop. Tick-tock.”

The guy’s nuts. How can I make all of these by myself?

“Lucas, the batter is not a problem. But the decorations? Do you know how much time I need to make five hundred sugar-paste roses?”

“They’re ready. We had backup ones,” he said as he pointed to the refrigerator.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. I’ll get to work then.”

He smiled, winked, and went back to doing what he’d been doing.

Thanks to the readymade decorations, I finished everything shortly before four. I’d managed to bake fifty cupcakes at a time. First I’d baked the plain ones and then the ones with the chocolate hearts. Just the way the future bride wanted them. Then, once everything had cooled, I’d decorated them. Exhausted but extremely happy, I raised my hands. “Done!”

Lucas, bent over the work table, didn’t answer right away. He was focused on garnishing the salmon. I had a chance to look at him more carefully and had to agree with Mag. Lucas was fascinating.

He had short blond hair and green eyes. He was athletic, and his physique showed it. His shoulders were broad, and his butt . . .

God, was I really checking out his butt?

No, the more precise answer was: I was adoring his butt.