Mommy Tracked

by Whitney Gaskell

  “Young love.”

  “That’s right. We were together all through college, and I proposed to her the weekend we graduated. I was going off to business school, she was going to law school in a different state. I was probably worried that we were going to grow apart.”

  “So what happened?”

  “We grew apart.” Anna and Noah both smiled. “We broke up during Christmas break. Last I heard from her, she and her husband had just had their third kid,” Noah continued.

  “You stay in touch?”

  “A bit, although life tends to get in the way. The break was as amicable as they get.”

  “So you weren’t heartbroken?”

  “No. I already knew by then that the engagement was a mistake. Mostly, I was relieved that she agreed with me.”

  “So you’d met someone else,” Anna surmised.

  Noah looked startled. “How’d you know that?”

  Anna shrugged. “In my experience, people are relieved to get out of a relationship only when they’re either, one, with someone really annoying, or, two, when there’s someone else,” she said.

  “Well, okay, you’re right. There was someone else. Nothing had happened yet—”

  “But you wanted it to.”

  “But I wanted it to,” Noah agreed. “And it did, when school started back up again after the holiday break. Her name was Olivia, and she was in one of my classes. We’d only been dating a few months when she got pregnant. When she told me, I proposed—or I did right after I recovered from the shock.”

  This sounded so similar to the beginning of her own ill-fated marriage that Anna nearly dropped her fork. And, wait: he had a kid?

  But Noah saw what she was thinking and shook his head before Anna could ask. “Olivia lost the baby early on in the pregnancy. Later, after the miscarriage, Olivia told me she’d reconsidered and had already decided she was going to have an abortion, since she didn’t want to have a baby while she was still in school. And I was angry that she was making decisions like that without me,” Noah said. “It was a lot of stress for a new relationship. We didn’t last long after that.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s really hard,” Anna said.

  “Then I took a break and managed to get through the rest of business school without proposing to anyone,” Noah said. He smiled sheepishly.

  “Which brings us to number three.”

  “Maria.” Noah’s smile became a bit dreamy. “She was a professional dancer. She had really long legs.”

  “Really,” Anna said, more tartly than she meant to, and decided that so far Maria was her least favorite of the group. Clearly, she was the gorgeous one.

  “Yeah. But, unfortunately, she was also really screwed up. We had a brief, very intense affair. I was so convinced she was the great love of my life that I proposed to her after knowing her for only a month,” Noah said. He shook his head and took a sip of wine. “Looking back, I have to wonder if I sustained some kind of a head injury.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I found out she was stealing from me,” Noah said sheepishly. He blushed.

  Anna laughed, delighted that Maria—whom she could just imagine, with a long, lithe dancer’s build, flowing dark hair, liquid eyes—was a criminal. “What did she steal?”

  “Money, mostly. I couldn’t figure out where all of my cash was going. I’d go to the ATM, take out a hundred bucks, and the next day it would be gone. I thought I was just being really careless. But then I got up one night to go the bathroom and I caught her in the act.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She cried and said she was sorry. Said she’d lost her job, her rent was due, and she was desperate. So I gave her the money.”

  “Sucker. Let me guess—she kept stealing from you?”

  Noah nodded. “A week later I caught her sneaking a bottle of vodka out of my apartment. And after we broke up, I realized that a bunch of other stuff was missing. The watch that my parents gave me when I graduated from college. My grandfather’s cuff links. Even small stuff, like groceries and toiletries. She cleaned me out of shaving cream and deodorant. I’m lucky I ended it when I did. Another week and she might have managed to strip my apartment bare.”

  “No kidding. And after Maria?”

  “And after Maria…there was Jessie. Jessie broke my heart,” Noah said flatly. He stopped eating and rested his fork on the edge of his salad plate.

  Anna felt a stab of jealousy. Even if Maria had been sex on legs, she obviously didn’t hold any power over Noah. But Jessie—just the way he said her name made Anna’s mouth taste bitter, as though she’d bitten into a rancid nut.

  “When I met her, I thought, This is it, this is the real thing. Finally. We dated for two years. I proposed to her in Venice, by the Bridge of Sighs as the sun set. It was a beautiful day, like something out of a movie. We—well, I should say, she—planned a huge, formal wedding to be held at her parents’ country club.” Noah’s laugh was a short, humorless bark. He was looking back into his memory now, and his eyes were far away. “She spent months driving me crazy by obsessing over what entrée we should serve. Salmon or chicken? Beef Wellington or beef bourguignonne? Or maybe we should have a buffet, she’d say. Only it wouldn’t be a real buffet—not what I think of as a buffet, with a long table and lots of dishes—but instead stations all over the place. A crepe station, and a sushi station, and a seafood station. And the cake. God, she was obsessed with the cake. We visited four different bakeries, and I had to remember if the lemon chiffon at this bakery was better or worse than the white chocolate at that one. I couldn’t wait for it to just be over, to get the wedding behind us, so that we could start our life together. Buy a house, have a few kids, you know. The usual.”

  Anna was starting to regret her curiosity. She didn’t like the hurt flickering in Noah’s eyes, didn’t like the note of bitterness creeping into his voice. If he was still angry with this Jessie, it meant he still felt something for her. And men who had feelings for the women who’d come before were certainly not safe to get involved with.

  The waitress came by to pick up their salad plates. Anna hadn’t even noticed she’d finished hers, only now realizing that her fork had been rising and falling mechanically as Noah spoke.

  “And then one day I came home to the apartment we were sharing, and my bags were packed and waiting for me by the door. She said it was over. And that was it. It was over. She wouldn’t even talk to me about it.”

  “Did you ever find out why?”

  “She eventually told me that she knew I’d been cheating on her,” Noah said.

  Anna had been lifting her wineglass to her mouth, but at those words she abruptly plunked it back down. He’s a cheater? I knew he was too good to be true!

  “I told her I hadn’t cheated on her—and I hadn’t—but she said she didn’t believe me. And just like that, everything was off. The wedding was canceled, the presents were sent back. I had to somehow explain it to everyone. And, of course, no one believed me when I told them I hadn’t been unfaithful to her. I don’t think my parents even believed me, although they said they did,” Noah continued. “I didn’t even know who I had supposedly cheated on her with. When I asked her, she just said, ‘I know.’ I know. But I sure as hell didn’t.”

  “Well. It does sound…odd,” Anna said, trying to ignore the siren in her head that was blaring cheat-er, cheat-er, cheat-er. “Were you ever able to sort it out?”

  “Oh, I sorted it out.” Noah’s voice was bitter again. “I found out that Jessie had been seeing her ex-boyfriend. They got married six months after we broke up. On the same day, and in the same place where we were supposed to get married. I guess after all of her hard work planning the wedding of her dreams, she figured it was pointless to start over from scratch. She just substituted a new groom.” Another humorless chuckle. Anna had liked it better when Noah was smiling with his eyes, although the cheat-er siren had faded away. “I heard they served salmon and beef Wellington.�
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  “That’s awful,” Anna said. She reached out and touched his hand. “You must have been devastated.”

  “It wasn’t a fun time,” Noah admitted. “I was angry for a long time, and then I was bitter for a while. I worked a lot. And then, after a while, I just got over it.”

  “I think that would be a hard thing to get over. It would be hard to trust anyone again,” Anna said, doubting very much that Noah had gotten over Jessie or the way that she’d gone about leaving him. He still seemed stuck on bitter. Then again, it was a phase she knew only too well, so who was she to judge?

  “It took a while. But eventually, I did. And I haven’t been engaged since.” He flashed her a wry smile. This time, it reached his eyes.

  The waitress appeared again, carrying their entrées on a round tray. She put the plates down with a flourish, again attended to their wineglasses, and said, “Bon appétit!” before flitting away. Anna picked up her fork and knife and cut into her steak. It was perfectly cooked, and there was a pat of herbed butter melting on top.

  And yet, for once, the conversation was holding Anna’s interest more than the food.

  “Anyway. There you go, that’s my—what did you call it?—dark, sordid past. Crazy, huh? Four engagements, no marriages, no kids, no pets. Although I have been thinking of getting a dog,” Noah said.

  “I’ll let you take Potato out for a day, if you want to work up to it,” Anna joked.

  “I just may take you up on that. So, did I succeed in scaring you off?”

  “Is that what you were trying to do?” Anna asked lightly, flashing him a smile.

  “No,” he said, and his voice was serious. “Just the opposite, actually.”

  Anna looked at Noah, who gazed steadily back at her. In the movies, a moment like this would be accompanied by a swell of music and some meaningful dialogue about how they completed each other.

  But all Anna could think was, Oh, my God, do I have lettuce in my teeth? Is he segueing into a meaningful conversation while I have bits of green gunk wedged into my gums?

  She tried to subtly run her tongue over her front teeth to check for the lettuce but stopped when she realized how odd this would look.

  “How are your dinners?” their waitress asked, pausing by their table and smiling down at them expectantly.

  “They’re fine, thank you,” Noah said, and Anna used the distraction to lift her napkin to her mouth as a shield. She performed a quick finger-check on her teeth—and discovered that, yes, indeed, there had been a bit of lettuce trapped there.

  Great, Anna thought darkly. First poison ivy, now lettuce teeth. What next? Will I come out of the ladies’ room with toilet paper stuck to my shoe?

  “Can I get you anything else?” the waitress continued.

  “No. I think we’re all set,” Noah said.

  Anna tried to set aside the lettuce trauma and think back to what Noah had just said and how he’d looked at her as he said it.

  Did I succeed in scaring you off?

  Anna hadn’t given him her answer. The truth was, she wasn’t yet sure.

  Anna and Noah had driven separately to the restaurant. As they waited out front for the valet to bring their cars around, they didn’t speak at first. But Noah took Anna’s hand in his, and as their fingers curled together, she shivered.

  “Are you cold?” Noah asked. His lips were so close to her ear, his warm breath tickled her skin.

  “No,” Anna said truthfully.

  Noah drew her to him, so that the length of her body molded against the hard planes of his. His hand tightened over hers, and Anna swallowed. She suddenly felt like she was sixteen again, overdosing on teenage hormones and the close proximity of a cute guy. It was like every nerve ending in her body was poised, waiting for his touch.

  A party of four, two couples in their mid-to-late fifties, came out behind them, laughing and talking, and another valet approached to take their ticket. Anna nodded at the approaching station wagon the first valet was pulling up in.

  “That’s my car,” she said.

  “Right,” Noah said.

  She stepped forward, away from him, although he didn’t let go of her hand. The valet opened the door and hopped out. Noah slipped him a tip.

  “Thank you, sir. Have a good night,” the valet said, touching a finger to his forehead.

  Anna turned to look at Noah. “Thank you for dinner,” she said. “I had a great time.”

  “You’re welcome,” Noah said. He leaned forward.

  He’s going to kiss me, Anna thought. She inhaled sharply, and her pulse felt like it was skittering out of control.

  Another valet pulled up in Noah’s Lexus sedan, and, at the same time, the door of the restaurant opened again. Another group of diners, this one rowdier and louder than the last, spilled out onto the carport. They’d obviously had a few too many cocktails, and they roared with drunken laughter.

  Noah stepped back and smiled ruefully.

  “It’s a bit crowded here,” he said. The valet flashed the lights and looked around to see where the driver was. Noah raised his hand and said, “That’s mine. I’ll be right there.”

  He turned back to Anna.

  “I don’t suppose…” Noah began.

  The third valet arrived with a giant Lincoln Navigator. The SUV was so big, he couldn’t wedge it up under the carport. The valet waited patiently for Anna and Noah to move their cars.

  “I think we’re blocking the way,” Anna said.

  “Are you going to stand there all night?” one of the men—presumably the driver of the Lincoln—asked irritably. His face was a ruddy red, although Anna couldn’t tell if that was due to sun or liquor. Probably both, she thought.

  “Shhh,” his wife shushed him. “Can’t you see he’s trying to kiss her good night?” She turned back to watch Anna and Noah, not bothering to hide her interest.

  Anna and Noah looked at each other, and they both laughed.

  “I should go,” Anna said apologetically.

  “Home?” Noah asked. “Because I rented Dirty Harry. Just in case you really wanted to see it.”

  It sounded innocent enough, but Anna knew what he was really asking: Come home and sleep with me. Come on. You know you want to. You practically had a spontaneous orgasm when I almost just kissed you.

  Her answer, also unspoken, echoed back: Four fiancées. Four! Not a normal number, like one. Or maybe two, tops. But four! That’s a freakishly large number of ex-fiancées for one person to have, no matter how you look at it.

  “No, I can’t. Not tonight,” Anna said, and tried not to feel too flattered when she saw the obvious disappointment on his face. She stretched up and kissed Noah chastely on the cheek. Then she leaned back and looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Did any of them give you the engagement ring back?”

  “Not a one,” Noah said, smiling wryly. He let go of her hand, and Anna’s fingers, freed from his, felt suddenly cold.

  “I’m home,” Anna called out, as she walked in her front door.

  Her mother was in the small, cozy family room, just off the front hall, curled up on the couch and watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s on television. “How was your date?” she asked.

  “It was fine,” Anna said. She kicked off her heels and sank down on the couch next to her mother with a sigh. “How’s Charlie?”

  “Sweet as a bug. He had a grilled cheese sandwich and an orange for dinner, and then I took him out for an ice cream cone, which he immediately dropped on the ground.”

  “Oh, no! Was he upset?”

  “No, I gave him mine. I didn’t need the calories, anyway,” Margo said, patting her flat stomach. “And after that, we came back home, and I gave Charlie a bath and tucked him into bed. He went down without a peep.”

  “Good.” Anna leaned back against the couch. “Thank you again for watching him.”

  “I’m always happy to babysit my sweet boy, you know that. Now. Tell me about your date. I want all the juicy details.”

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nbsp; “There aren’t any juicy details. But it was”—she searched for the right adjective—“nice.”

  “Good! So you like him?” Margo asked eagerly.

  Anna could tell her mother was already mentally writing the wedding invitations: Mrs. Margaret Swann requests the honor of your presence at the marriage of her daughter, Anna Elise, to Noah Springer. She’d probably even tack an MBA on after his name.

  “Yes, I do like him. He’s sweet. And smart, and funny.” She nodded, and smiled a bit wistfully. “Actually, I really like him.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I didn’t say there was a problem.”

  “I know you better than that. I can always tell when you’re fretting about something. Your forehead furrows up, and you look just like your father.”

  Anna knew her mother well enough to know that this was not a compliment.

  “Well, we both have a lot of baggage.”

  “You don’t have any baggage,” Margo said.

  “I’m a single mother, Mom. I pretty much define the word baggage.”

  Margo shook her head impatiently. “You kids make this more difficult than it has to be, what with your online dating and your AIDS tests.”

  “My what?”

  “Dating is supposed to be fun. You have a few drinks, eat a couple of steaks, play a few records. Have a good time. Your generation makes it more difficult than it has to be,” Margo said.

  “We’re not making it anything. It just is what it is. The world is a difficult place these days,” Anna said.

  “When I was your age, I was a single mother, and I went out all the time. I had a date lined up every weekend.”

  “I remember,” Anna said, raising her eyebrows.

  “And don’t give me any more of that nonsense about how your dating will somehow hurt Charlie. You turned out just fine.”

  “When I was fifteen, one of your dates grabbed my ass when I was leaning over to get a can of soda out of the fridge. Another one was driving drunk when the two of you picked me up from a friend’s house and kept swerving out of his lane the entire way home,” Anna said flatly.