Without thinking, Xavier glanced at his mother then. “I saw him the night before I left London. He was in a pub, drunk out of his mind. It didn't seem like the right time to ask him any questions, but I knew something had happened.” The way he said it told her more than he intended. As she looked into her son's eyes, she asked him a question that would tell her all she needed to know.
“Was he alone?” She could hardly get the words out. She felt a vise squeezing her chest, and Xavier didn't answer for what seemed like a long time, and then shook his head.
“He was with some stupid girl. He probably met her at the pub. It doesn't mean anything, Mom. He was drunk. I'm sure he didn't know her.” Xavier didn't tell her Liam had been kissing her, and she looked about twenty-two years old. But even with what he did say, she felt a knife go right through her heart. It really was over. After that, the rest of the trip was an agony for her. It would have been anyway. It wasn't Xavier's fault. Liam was gone. It was all she could think of.
They spent two weeks in St. Tropez, seeing friends, going to the beach and restaurants at night. They had lunch at Club 55. They had drinks at the Gorilla Bar, and once Tatianna arrived, she and Sasha checked out the shops. Sasha looked agonized from morning till night, and Tatianna didn't seem to notice. Neither of them ever mentioned Liam. And Xavier didn't dare bring him up again. He could see how miserable his mother was from the look in her eyes, even when she tried to be a good sport and pretend otherwise, which she did most of the time. And when she went to her room at night, she cried herself to sleep. She missed him beyond belief. She knew there was absolutely nothing she could do to bring him back. All she could do now was accept it. She couldn't call and invite him to St. Tropez. Tatianna would have walked out. Sasha didn't want to risk it.
They were invited out by friends several times, and Sasha agreed to go when they had children the age of her own, or were clients. But having to sit there and talk to people made her want to crawl out of her skin. She had never felt like that in her life. After Arthur's death, she had remained in seclusion for months. Now she was out in the world, pretending to be fine, which was almost unbearable for her. Nothing she did gave her relief. Day and night she ached for Liam, and knew she couldn't have him. She didn't call, and he never called her. Night after night she imagined him in bars, chasing young women. She felt half-crazed with grief by the time they got on the boat they'd chartered. It was a relief when they pulled up anchor, left St. Tropez, and headed out to sea.
Xavier and Tatianna had both invited friends, at her suggestion. They all enjoyed each other. She didn't need to entertain them. She could lie on deck with her eyes closed, near the bow of the boat, thinking of him, and aching with grief. She stayed on board when the young people went ashore at night. She said she didn't want to spoil their fun. In truth, she just didn't have the strength to talk to anyone. She needed time to grieve.
They went to Portofino, and she went ashore there for a short time. They had dinner at the Splendido, and she agreed to go with them that one time. But in spite of her best efforts, she looked so miserable that night that Tatianna asked her brother what was wrong with her after her mother went back to the boat, claiming a headache.
“Is Mom sick?” Tatianna asked, oblivious to the damage she had caused, or acting as though it had never happened. Xavier wasn't sure which.
“No,” Xavier said unhappily, “she's miserable. I haven't seen her like this since Dad died.” Tatianna didn't answer, as Xavier looked at her accusingly. “You made things awfully hard for her, Tat. She didn't deserve it. She and Liam broke up before she came to St. Tropez.” He was sad for both of them, and believed they genuinely loved each other, whatever their age. Liam had looked crazed too the night he saw him. He just expressed it differently than Sasha. He acted out, and she went inward with her grief. Tatianna showed no remorse when he said it.
“She's better off. He was a creep,” Tatianna said, and Xavier wanted to slap her.
“That's a rotten thing to say. Why would you want her to be miserable?” He was furious with his sister. “I told you, he's a nice guy, and he loves her. And obviously she loves him. What are you going to do now? Sit and keep her company? Hell, no. You have your own life. So do I, and she's alone again.” He was livid, and distraught for his mother.
“She loves Daddy,” Tatianna said stubbornly.
“She did. Now she loves Liam.”
“She was making a fool of herself, and he was probably laughing at her anyway. Besides, it was a shitty thing to do to Dad.”
“She didn't do anything to Dad. He's dead, Tat. He's not coming back. She has a right to have a life, whether you approve or not. The reason they broke up is because she didn't want to upset you, and invite him here. You owe her an apology. Maybe it's not too late for her to fix it. They love each other. They have a right to that. And you don't have a right to interfere.”
“I don't want her to fix it,” Tatianna said, looking devastated.
“After everything she does for us, how can you be so selfish?” He wanted to strangle his sister for her attitude and lack of compassion for their mother, who was obviously suffering the agonies of the damned over Liam, which more than convinced Xavier of how much she loved him.
“Maybe I did her a favor.”
“You should have your ass kicked. He's right, you are a brat.”
“Is that what he said?” She looked furious again when he said it. “He stood there with his dick hanging out, ready to club me, after screwing our mother,” she said in what she felt was righteous outrage. Xavier just thought she was being a bitch, and said so, which only made her madder.
“You're disgusting. Maybe he should have clubbed you. You deserve it,” Xavier said angrily. Tatianna stomped off in a huff after that, and Sasha noticed the next day that they weren't speaking to each other. She had no idea why. It didn't even occur to her that they had been arguing over her and Liam. Xavier was even nicer to his mother after that, and Tatianna was more pleasant. She was relieved to know that Liam was out of the picture, and considered it a blessing. She never said anything about him to her mother, and Sasha had decided not to bring it up and upset her again. There was no point now. He was gone. And it hurt too much to talk about it.
They had a nice time on the boat, in spite of Sasha's miseries, and they were all sorry when they pulled into port in Monaco. They had a last dinner on board. The young people went to the casino that night, and Sasha went to bed early. The next morning, they all left. Tatianna flew back to New York, Xavier to London with promises to visit his mother in Paris soon, and Sasha caught a flight to Paris, after the young people had left. It had been a long three weeks for her. She had enjoyed her children, but she was relieved to go home, and crawl into bed with Socks. The house in Paris seemed incredibly quiet and lonely when she got back.
She had nothing to look forward to now, except work, which had kept her going before, after Arthur died. But this seemed harder. When Arthur died, she had no choice but to accept it and adjust, however hard. There was no other option. Now, knowing that Liam was alive and well, working in his studio, and probably chasing young women, it was harder still. There was always the remote chance that he might call her, or come back again, except she knew he wouldn't. He was far too stubborn, and she knew how betrayed he felt over her refusing to confront her daughter. It opened too many old wounds of abandonment and betrayal for him, and she knew he wouldn't get over it. She knew him better than that, and she was right.
She had mentioned to Bernard on her first day back to work that if Liam called, she wanted him to handle it for her. She wasn't going to take his calls. She knew he might call the gallery about his upcoming show at some point, and she couldn't face talking to him. It was too painful.
“Is something wrong?” Bernard asked, with a look of concern. She didn't look well, despite her long vacation. Beneath the tan she'd gotten on the boat, he could see that underneath her eyes were dark circles, and she looked strained. He als
o thought that she'd lost weight, and she had.
“No.” She started to say something, and then decided to be honest. “It's over.” Her eyes looked grim.
“Oh.” He didn't know what else to say as he looked at her. He could see how unhappy she was. It was in direct proportion to how happy she had been only months before with Liam. “Are we still doing his show in New York?” Bernard wondered.
“Of course. We're his dealers,” she said, sounding professional, and then walked silently into her office and closed the door. The subject of Liam was as closed as the door.
Eugénie noticed how quiet she was too. When Sasha went to New York in September to curate a show, Marcie was worried about her. Sasha steeled herself not to cry when she told her it had ended with Liam. It had been two months now. She felt as though she had been crawling on her stomach across barbed wire since July. She looked exhausted now that her tan had faded. Marcie thought she looked awful, which was how she felt. Everything reminded her of him, everything seemed empty to her without him. Her bed in Paris was too big. The one in New York was an agony. The doorman asked her how he was. As careful as they had been not to tell anyone, everyone asked for him now. Everybody loved him. And worse yet, so did she. Only Tatianna didn't. She never even acknowledged that she knew he was out of her mother's life. In exchange, Xavier called her often, and she always enjoyed talking to her son.
Xavier had seen Liam several times, but he didn't tell his mother that. He didn't mention him at all. Each time he'd seen him, Liam was with a different woman. He seemed to be making up for lost time, and talked a lot about his divorce. He never mentioned Sasha, which made Xavier suspect that he was still in love with her too. His not mentioning her seemed too odd.
Xavier spent a weekend in Paris with her in October. The weather was beautiful, and they had dinner at Le Voltaire, which they both loved. She looked better by then. She had just gotten back from Amsterdam and had signed two new artists. She didn't mention it to Xavier, but she was steeling herself to go to New York for Liam's show. It was still six weeks off. She knew she had six weeks to get strong enough to see him, and not react at all, no matter how she felt. She had decided to be professional about it. She was his dealer after all. Xavier had seen his recent work, and said it was very good. Bernard had flown to London to see his new pieces too. He was very pleased, and thought Sasha would be too.
The show was on December 1st. Sasha and the children had agreed to meet in New York for Thanksgiving, since she had to be at the New York gallery on the Monday after. She was going to curate the show over the weekend. Thanksgiving in Paris never made any sense. It would be more fun for all of them to celebrate it in New York.
Xavier saw Liam just before he left for New York. He stopped by his studio, and there was a young woman there. Xavier had no idea if she was his new girlfriend or not. She looked about twenty-five, and Xavier just prayed he wouldn't take her to New York. It would kill his mother if he did, and he hoped Liam had the good taste not to do that to her, although they both had the right to pursue their own lives now, in whatever ways worked for them. But Xavier knew how painful it would be for his mother to see Liam with another woman. She wasn't seeing anyone. Xavier had asked her over dinner at Le Voltaire, her eyes had filled with tears, and she just shook her head. He didn't mention it again. He had the frightening feeling she had just given up. At forty-nine, it seemed an incredible waste to him, but she seemed to have withdrawn into herself, except when she was at work. The gallery seemed to be the only thing that could distract her, and he was grateful for that.
“See you in New York!” Liam called out happily, as Xavier left. He was excited about his show. He never mentioned Sasha even once.
Sasha and her children had Thanksgiving at the apartment. She and Xavier went to a movie afterward, while Tatianna went out with friends. It was their third Thanksgiving without Arthur, and the least painful one so far. For the rest of the weekend, Sasha was busy with Liam's show.
The work, as they uncrated it, was absolutely wonderful. Sasha stood back and looked at it, and was proud of him. He had done a fantastic job preparing for the show. It all arrived in perfect condition, and she propped it up against the walls around the gallery, as she decided where to hang it. She was still there late on Sunday night, trying to decide which of two spectacular pieces she wanted to hang in the front, so people saw it the moment they entered. She didn't even hear him come in. The door to the gallery was unlocked. Xavier had come by briefly, and Sasha had forgotten to lock it behind him. She was too busy hanging Liam's paintings. She was staring at the two largest paintings, and heard a familiar voice behind her that made her heart pound. It was Liam, fresh off the plane, in a black turtleneck sweater and jeans, the familiar baseball cap, motorcycle boots, and battered black leather jacket. His long blond ponytail hung straight down his back. He looked more than ever like James Dean. And no longer hers. She told herself that as she turned to speak to him in a deceptively calm voice, and met his eyes squarely. It didn't show to him, but it cost her a lot to do so.
“You did a great job,” she said softly. She was his art dealer now, she reminded herself silently, and nothing else. Their eyes held as they stood watching each other from the distance. He didn't approach to kiss her on the cheek. He stood across the gallery and looked at her, and she looked at him. Times had changed. He looked serious and sad and tired, but as beautiful as ever. “You've done an incredible amount of work.” It was impressive.
“I've been busy,” he said quietly.
“I suspected you would be,” she said, and then hated herself for the comment. What he did with his spare time now was no longer any of her business. She seemed flustered when she spoke to him again. “Which one do you like best for the front? I've been standing here for an hour, trying to decide.”
“That one,” he said, pointing to the larger, brighter of the two, without hesitating. “Don't you think?” He still valued her opinion about his work. Her eye was infallible, and he had the greatest respect for what she did and how well she did it.
“Yes, I do. You're right. I've been standing here like a fool, stumped. But you're right.” She carried the painting to where she wanted to hang it, and he stepped forward to help her. The painting was too big for her to carry alone, but she didn't mind. She often worked late at night, hanging paintings on her own, battling with the painting, the ladder, her tape measure, a level, nails, and her hammer. He smiled as she banged the nail into the wall, and then grabbed the painting, as he lifted it up for her. She was as stubborn and determined as ever. Nothing had changed. He was still smiling when she got down to admire her work. “Wow! That looks perfect!”
He nodded, looking at it with the critical eye of the artist, but he was pleased too. “Yes, it does.” He looked around then and was delighted with the way she had curated the show. He had known he would be. As she stood there, looking at him, she was acutely aware that she hadn't seen him in four months and a few days. She tried not to think of it as she walked past him to put her tools away. Just feeling his presence in the same room with her was hard. She still felt the same electric current she always had, but she had to ignore it now, for both their sakes. He seemed to feel nothing at all for her, which was depressing, but she told herself it was probably better this way. This was the only way it could be.
She turned off the lights in the gallery, after he had seen all his work and how she'd hung it, and when they walked outside, she was amazed to see that it was snowing. She had been in the gallery all day and evening, working on his show.
“Where are you staying?” she asked casually, as she set the alarm and locked the door. He followed her out, noticing how tired she looked and how thin she was. Looking at him, and knowing the age of the women he probably went out with, she felt a hundred years old. He thought she looked beautiful, but drawn, and hoped she wasn't sick.
“I'm staying with friends in Tribeca.” He was intentionally vague. He didn't want to get too personal wit
h her. “I'm going to see my kids in Vermont next week, after the show. Beth is getting married on New Year's Eve.” He didn't know why he told her that, but it was nice seeing her again. Nice but weird, for both of them. It was so odd to have loved someone, as they had, and now not even be friends. Just an artist and a dealer. After this show, she had no idea when she'd see him again.
“How are the kids?” she asked, as they both waited for cabs to come by. The snow was sticking to the ground, there were already several inches piled up, and there were no taxis at all. And then finally there was one.
“The kids are fine,” he answered her, and was going to let her have the cab. They were going in opposite directions, and couldn't drop each other off. Sasha didn't want to take a cab with him anyway. Being that close to him would be too hard. But then she realized that it might be another hour before he found another cab. They had waited nearly twenty minutes for this one.
“Do you want to drop me off, and then go on? You could be standing here for hours,” she offered generously. The snow was falling harder and sticking more. If it hadn't been so cold and wet, it would have been pretty to watch. He hesitated and then nodded. What she had suggested made sense to him. So they both got in.
She gave the driver the address, and they both fell silent.
“I hope we don't have a blizzard, it'll be a mess for people coming to the show,” Sasha mused, as she looked out of the cab.
“I like New York like this,” he said, smiling, as he looked at the snow swirling around them. He looked more than ever like a kid, which wasn't unusual for him. “How was Thanksgiving?” he asked politely.
“It was okay. Holidays aren't what they used to be. But it was better than last year and the year before,” she said, referring to Arthur. It had been a lot worse in other ways because of him. And by then, they were at her building, the doorman opened her door, and she got out and thanked Liam for the ride. “See you tomorrow. You'll be a star after this,” she said, smiling at him. And then added, “You already are. Good luck tomorrow.”
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