On Second Thought

by Kristan Higgins

  "Nothing is confidential, since we're in a public place. Anyone could overhear us," Jonathan said.

  "Who wants to go first?" Carly asked. "How about you, Ainsley? Since you're new?"

  I had just taken a bite of a very delicious slab of quesadilla, but I nodded and chewed, held up my finger and chewed some more. "Well," I said finally, "my boyfriend seems to have had some kind of nervous breakdown or something. The man I love is not the man who's doing all this. But all this is being done just the same, you know? So how do you reconcile that? I mean, I want to get back together with him. How long do I put up with this? And how do I forgive him? And when do you think he'll snap out of it? He really was the best boyfriend ever."

  Three sad, sympathetic faces looked back at me. Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Oh, save your contempt, Jonathan," I said. "You didn't know him before cancer. He was great before cancer."

  "He was your only boyfriend, isn't that right?" Jonathan asked.

  "Yeah. So?" I was a little surprised Jonathan knew this.

  "So you have no point of comparison."

  "I didn't need one," I said.

  "I told myself the same thing," Henry said. "That Kathy was going through a midlife crisis, that she wasn't herself and that we could get back to the way things were. Hasn't happened, and the truth is, I'm starting to feel...happy. Like I'm free from all the expectations of our life together and can start to be the real me."

  Hairdresser, pina colada, free to be the real me. Yep. Henry would be marching in the gay pride parade next spring. Maybe Deshawn and he could hook up. The old opposites attract thing.

  Carly talked about how her ex never spent any time with their kids, just kept sending checks, and how the kids' resentment was aimed at her. Henry commiserated, saying how much he missed being in the same house with his sons every night. Marley was going to be an empty nester this fall and was dreading it. "It feels like the world is going to end, and I have to sit there and pretend to be happy about it," she said. Henry handed her a napkin so she could blot her eyes.

  I wondered if I knew someone for Marley. She seemed awfully nice. I'd visit Gram-Gram and check out the younger residents. She might like being a trophy wife.

  "What about you, Jonathan?" Carly asked, leaning forward to flash a few inches of cleavage. "Last week, you said... How did you put it? There was someone you thought you had feelings for, remember? But it was difficult?"

  Thought he had feelings for. The man was Mr. Spock. What are these emotions I'm experiencing? Let me do a brain scan and analyze the results. I bet it was the woman he'd been with on that date. She'd seemed nice. Nicer than he was.

  "I'd rather not discuss it," he said. "Ainsley is my employee, and I'm not comfortable sharing details of my personal life with her."

  "But she's so nice," Marley said. Aw. "Maybe she could help you. And Dr. Lovely is her mother."

  "Well, stepmother," I said. "Jonathan knows her, too. She writes for his magazine."

  "Of course, of course."

  I shifted to see my boss better. "I am pretty good with that kind of thing. Maybe I could help you."

  "You couldn't."

  "I bet I could."

  "While I admire your confidence, no, thank you."

  "I see. You're chicken."

  He sighed. "No, Ainsley, it's not that. It's that I have two children to consider."

  "I use that excuse, too," Henry said.

  "And second, I don't think you're in a position to offer relationship advice. Forgive me if that sounded rude."

  "It is rude. Just own it," I said. "Was it that woman from Le Monde? Points to you for taking her somewhere nice."

  "So you've already been on a date with her?" Marley said. "What about a second date? Is that when people typically have sex?"

  He closed his eyes. "As I said, I'm not comfortable discuss--"

  "Send flowers," Carly suggested. "Every woman loves flowers."

  "Nah," I said. "That's for later in the relationship. First he has to show her he has what she wants. What all women want."

  "A lot of money?" Carly suggested.

  "No, no. Though it never hurts."

  "And what do all women want, in your vast experience?" Jonathan said.

  "Honesty." I sat back, proud of the answer.

  "Oh, good one," Carly said. "My ex had an entire apartment in Manhattan I didn't even know about. But since we're a fifty-fifty state, he had to buy me out, so I got the girls done--" she pointed proudly to her bosom, which was big enough to hold a generous plate of pasta "--had a little refreshing done and took my sisters to France for a month. Oh, that made him mad!" She smiled fondly.

  "Sense of humor is another one," I said. Poor Jonathan. I might as well have said grow sparkly wings. "Being open to new things." Pause for laughter. "And kindness, that's the most important."

  Trying to save Nathan's life...that had been kind. Or a reflex. But he'd stayed at the hospital. That had been very decent of him.

  "It's the little things," I went on. "Holding doors and such. Let her talk and pretend to pay attention."

  "Pretend? That's your advice? How fascinating."

  "See?" I said. "You're doing it already."

  "I still say you can't go wrong with flowers," Carly said. "Or just whisk her off to the city for dinner. Shock and awe, razzle and dazzle."

  The others continued with their suggestions. Buy her a puppy, send her secret notes, flirt with her (like he could pull that off).

  "I appreciate your suggestions," he said. "Perhaps we can move on."

  "Did anyone ever tell you you talk like you're on Downton Abbey?" I asked, smiling at him.

  "Not until just now."

  "You do. You have a very formal way of talking."

  He blinked at me, clearly pained.

  "I love it," Marley said. "If you were ten years older, Jon."

  He smiled at her.

  Huh. I couldn't say I'd ever seen him smile before. It was an unexpectedly sweet smile, just a curve of the lips and a slight crinkle to his eyes.

  And he was still wearing the suit he wore to work, except his tie was a tiny bit loosened, and...well...he was suddenly...attractive.

  "I'd better head off," he said.

  "Would you give me a ride home?" I heard myself ask.

  The smile was gone. "Of course."

  "It was great meeting you," I said, putting down my share of the tab as well as a healthy tip. "Hope to see you again." They answered in a chorus of goodbyes.

  We walked out to Jonathan's car, a very sleek Jaguar. Maybe the magazine industry wasn't so bad after all.

  He held the door for me. I got the sense that his nanny would beat him with a cane if he didn't. "So why did you get a divorce, Jonathan?" I asked as he got in.

  He didn't answer for a minute, just pulled carefully onto the street. "I'd rather not discuss it," he said.

  "Okay. Sorry."

  "It's all right."

  "I really could coach you on dating, you know," I said.

  "I appreciate the offer, but no, thank you."

  "How old are your children?" Apparently, I was not the sit in comfortable silence type.

  That smile, though. That had been a very nice smile.

  "Emily is eight, and Lydia is six."

  "Do you get to see them a lot?"

  "Yes. My ex-wife and I share custody. A week with me, a week with her." He turned, knowing where Kate's house was, I presumed, because he knew everything about this area. It was a famous house in our fair city.

  "Does your ex live in Cambry-on-Hudson?"

  He glanced at me. "Yes. We didn't want the girls to have to experience any more change than was necessary."

  "Right. Of course."

  We were quiet for a minute, and I looked out the window at all the pretty houses. If we took a right at the stop sign, and then a left, and another right, we'd be on the street where I used to live.

  Used to.

  "I won't say anything," I said, still looking ou
t the window. "About your divorce or anything. You don't have to worry about that."

  "I'm not."

  That was all he said. I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a threat.

  A minute later, he pulled into Kate's driveway. The house was lit up, glowing from the exterior lights that my sister couldn't manage to turn off. Several trees and a modern statue were lit from the base.

  "How is your sister these days?"

  "Quiet. Sad."

  He nodded. "Please give her my best."

  For once, his formal language didn't put me off. He looked at me for a long minute, not blinking.

  If I'd been with anyone else, I would've thought he wanted to say something.

  I wasn't used to just looking at him; in fact, I rather specialized in avoiding exactly that, since he was usually frowning in disapproval at me. But in the glow from the car light, it seemed that one of his eyes had a flake of gold in it. Yes. It did. The other one did not.

  "Your eyes don't match," I said. My voice was a little strange.

  He blinked. "Sectoral heterochromia," he said, glancing at his hands, then back at me. "A color abnormality in one part of a person's eye."

  "Oh." It was rather hypnotic, that mysterious bit of gold in the pale green...or blue. His eyes weren't the lifeless alien pale color I'd always thought. No, on closer inspection, they were made up of pieces and shards of blue and green, and that one little patch of pure gold sitting at eight o'clock in his left iris.

  I was staring.

  Jonathan's mouth moved. It wasn't exactly a smile as much as...well... I didn't know what.

  "Good night, Ainsley. Try to be on time tomorrow."

  I cleared my throat. "Will do. Thank you for the ride."

  Then I got out, the spring air cool on my surprisingly hot face.

  *

  The next morning, I made it to work at 8:31. I would've been in at 8:30 if not for a school bus driver who decided he had to have a chat with a kindergartner's dad. I slid into my desk, but not before Jonathan looked up, irritation quirking his mouth downward. Because I was sixty seconds late.

  If there had been a moment in the car last night, it was probably only in my imagination. In fact, thinking about it, I was sure it was.

  Ten minutes after I sat down, Rachelle's voice came over the intercom. "Ainsley, there's someone here to see you." Her usually mellow voice was tense.

  Oh, God. Eric. Was it Eric? Finally! My knees and elbows tingled, and my heart seemed to lurch into my throat. "I'll be right out."

  Everything was going to be all right. Everything would go back to normal. He'd have the ring. He'd apologize. Once I saw him and how sorry he was, all the love would come flooding back and I'd forgive him. We'd never gone so long without seeing each other, and just the thought of being close to him again made my whole body thrum. I hadn't let myself miss him yet, too consumed with anger and embarrassment. But God, I'd missed him.

  I checked my reflection in my computer screen, fluffed my hair a little and pinched my cheeks, like Scarlett O'Hara. Eric! I was about to see Eric at last. My knees tingled as I walked into the reception area.

  It wasn't Eric.

  It was his mother. My heart fell into my shoes.

  "Honey," she said, rising, tears filling her eyes. "Can we talk?"

  "Is Eric okay?" I asked.

  "See, I knew you'd ask. I know you still care, I do, honey. Yes, he's fine. Well, if you can call this grizzly bear fixation fine. Can we go somewhere private? He's losing his mind!"

  I ushered Judy into the conference room. Jonathan came in almost immediately, as I knew he would. It was his magazine, after all, and he had to monitor all activity, especially anything personal.

  "Good morning," he said, leaning in the doorway. "I'm Jonathan Kent."

  "Judy, this is my boss, Jonathan Kent. Jonathan, this is Judy Fisher. Eric's mother. Did you meet at Eric's...um..." My voice trailed off.

  "You were so wonderful to try to help poor Nathan," she said, holding his hand with both of hers. "And of course, Eric loved having his blog here. Oh, dear, this is such a mess."

  "Would you like some coffee?" he asked.

  "No, no, I'll just be a moment. Thank you."

  He glanced at me, and I could see the irritation in his special hetero-something eyes. "So. Ainsley, you'll have that piece on Labor Day events for me soon?" The reminder that we were at work, in case I forgot.

  "You bet." I would have to start it soon, actually. He left, closing the door behind him.

  "Did you see Eric on TV?" Judy asked. "Our hearts are broken! He looked so handsome, though, didn't he? I don't know what to do, Ainsley! Please don't give up on him yet."

  "Judy, believe me, I--"

  "You know how he is with stress. He wet the bed when he went to camp the first time! When he was eleven and had his first erection, he was afraid it was cancer. Oh, God. How's that for irony? Maybe we should've taken him to the doctor back then. Maybe we would've caught it early."

  "He did catch it early."

  She gripped my hands. "Listen. He's not going to backpack through Alaska. What if he falls and gets hurt? Who will take care of him?"

  "I don't know. I don't care at this point." If only that was true.

  "Oh, honey! Don't say that! He's had a meltdown. You can't stop loving him! You're the best thing that ever happened to him. You do still love him, don't you?"

  I pulled my hands free and rubbed the back of my neck. "I don't know, Judy. I mean, of course I do. But this new guy...the one who calls me a corpse and goes on GMA and Jimmy Kimmel...he's completely different."

  "I know. It's shock. He loved Nathan like a brother."

  "No, Judy, he barely knew Nathan. Nathan was my brother-in-law, and I barely knew Nathan."

  She looked at me, her face drawn in concern. "Ainsley, honey. You have eleven years with our son. That's a third of your life. Don't forget that!"

  "I know. But..." My throat closed, my eyes filled. "He's the one who forgot, Judy. It's like I'm a stranger he doesn't care about at all anymore." I swallowed a sob. "He hasn't even been over to see Ollie."

  We'd had Ollie for two years. How could a person just ditch his dog like that?

  Or his woman?

  "He does love you," Judy said. "You just wait, and you'll see. Please. This cancer scared him so badly. You know that better than anyone. I think it's post-traumatic stress, that's what I think."

  I took a breath and swiped under my eyes with my fingertips. "You could be right."

  "I am. I know it. I'm his mother, and I know." She kissed my cheek with vigor and looked into my eyes. "Aaron and I love you, sweetheart. We want you to be the mother of our grandchildren. You're like a daughter to us, you know that. Please, just keep an open mind."

  "Okay." I hugged her. "I have to get back to work. Talk to you soon."

  "I love you."

  That caused more tears to flood my eyes. "Love you, too," I whispered.

  Judy and Aaron were more like my parents than Candy and Dad. If I lost Eric, I lost them, too. No more annual Broadway shows, no more mani/pedis with Judy where we gossiped and laughed. No more beautiful Hanukkah nights, lighting the candles, Judy exclaiming over the gifts I chose so carefully. No more vacations where the guys played golf and Judy and I had a fruity cocktail on the beach.

  No more unconditional love.

  I went to the bathroom to make sure my mascara hadn't smudged. It had, of course. I ran a tissue under my eyes, blew my nose and washed my hands.

  When I got back to the desk, there was an email from my boss.

  Please refer to page 29 of the employee handbook about personal matters being handled during work hours.

  Jonathan Kent, Publisher

  Hudson Lifestyle

  I typed back, my fingers hammering the keys.

  Please refer to the fact that the publisher of Hudson Lifestyle is making me meet with our problematic blogger, so maybe getting some insight from his mother about his current men
tal state isn't the worst idea in the world.

  Ainsley O'Leary, Features Editor

  Hudson Lifestyle

  A second later, my computer dinged.

  You may have a point. Please try to refrain from crying in the bathroom, however. It's bad for morale.

  Jonathan Kent, Publisher

  Hudson Lifestyle

  I typed my response, then deleted all the F-bombs, then realized the F-bombs made up the whole email.

  Whatever. I had an article on pumpkins to write.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kate

  When I got home that night, the house smelled fantastic. Ainsley was in full 1950s housewife mode, still wearing blocky little heels, an apron over her cute little flowered dress.

  "Wine?" she asked with a smile. "I'm making a roast with mashed potatoes, braised carrots, a little wilted spinach on the side. And there's coconut pie for dessert."

  "You're amazing, Ainsley." I raised my camera--the Canon, not the Nikon--and took her picture.

  Ah. There it was, the real deal. She was confused and angry and sad. What Eric was doing was a joke--another idiot being controversial whose fifteen minutes would soon be up.

  "How was your day?" she asked, pouring me some vino.

  I put down my camera and sat at the soapstone counter. "It was okay," I lied. "I had lunch with my mother-in-law at the club." There'd been a line of people--a line--who wanted to talk and pay their respects. My cheek had been kissed so many times I had a headache from all the Estee Lauder perfume that seemed to be a requirement of female club members over sixty. "Eloise is..." My voice choked off.

  "I can't imagine how she's coping."

  I shook my head. "She always says the right thing, she's nice to everyone." I hesitated. "But she doesn't want to talk about Nathan. At least, not with me."

  "How's Mr. Coburn?"

  "Medicated. Drinking a lot. So we talked about nothing. The only safe topic is Miles and Atticus."

  "They're so cute."

  Atticus resembled Nathan an awful lot. It was hard to look at him. I cleared my throat. "I went back to the house, and Mr. Coburn asked if we could blow up a picture of Nathan for their anniversary party. As a cutout, you know? He'd been drinking, and..."

  Those little strangled noises were coming out of my throat. Not crying, no, that would be too normal. Just vocal chord spasms as the air tried to escape from my locked throat.

  "Oh, honey." My sister came around the counter and hugged me. Her dog whimpered, dragging his little baby blanket to me. Sweet puppy.