You Were Meant For Me

by Yona Zeldis McDonough

  Jared changed out of his work clothes into shorts and a T-shirt and then padded barefoot into the kitchen to see what he might have for dinner. And look at that—Supah had prepared a noodle dish and left it in the fridge for him. He was so hungry and worn-out that he didn’t bother to heat it up. Even cold it was delicious, seasoned with coriander and some kind of spicy peanut sauce.

  After he’d finished his dinner and the wine, he felt better. Had he been alone, he would have headed out—some of his favorite spots, like the Cosmo, were just getting going about now. But he wasn’t alone; he was tethered to the baby asleep in the next room. He needed to get out more; he’d see if Olivia wanted to pick up any extra evening hours. Being a father was not the sum total of his identity. He was a guy, and guys had needs.

  Not that he’d had much time to think about those needs lately. Since Lily’s arrival, his libido had gone into the deep freeze. Not tonight though. That soft summer sky had stirred something in him. He was lonely; that’s what it was. He was lonely and in need of some female company. He couldn’t even rely on the steady beam of Athena’s affection; now that she and Gabe were an item, she had turned her gaze elsewhere. To his surprise, he found that he missed her.

  Jared channel surfed for a while, and when none of the hundred-plus channels engaged him, he turned the television off. Facebook was another downer; the first thing that popped up was a picture of Athena and Gabe, both in bathing suits, yukking it up at her place on Sag Harbor. She’d invited him to bring Lily and join them, but he’d declined, saying it was too much of a hassle to travel with a baby. This was only partially true. The real reason was that he didn’t want to be around all that giddy, newly-in-love stuff. It made him feel like shit.

  God, but he was one gloomy son of a bitch tonight! He had to shake this off now; nothing killed the interest of the ladies faster. The ladies, the ladies . . . When was the last time he’d even been interested in a lady? The image of Isabel Clarke popped into his head—not the last time he’d seen her in June, freaked out and bleeding from that bizarro cat attack, but before that, when she’d been all flirty and hot. How the hell was she anyway? Was her lip okay? Did she and her asshole of a husband ever find a new place? Without giving himself time to weigh the pros and cons—and knowing that if he did, the cons would win by a landslide—he called her. And just like that, she picked up.

  “Long time!” she said. “Sorry I was such a mess that day.”

  “Are you kidding? It wasn’t your fault. That cat was crazy. But are you all right now? Did you have to have surgery?”

  “I did, but I’m good as new,” she said. “You can barely even see the scar.”

  “I’m so glad.” It was true. Even if he hadn’t been thinking about her, he was genuinely awash in relief to learn that her lovely face had not been marred. “So have you and Brandon found an apartment?”

  “Not yet.” She waited before speaking again. “Is that apartment on One Hundred Seventeenth Street still on the market?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is.” The finance guy had not made an offer. “But Brandon said he wasn’t interested in that place—”

  “He wasn’t.” Isabel’s tone had taken on an edge. “I am. Kind of. I think.”

  Jared tried to make sense of this. Were they splitting up? “If you haven’t found anything yet, maybe I could show you something else? I’ve gotten a couple of new listings that might be just your kind of thing.”

  “Could you?” she said in that little-girl voice of hers. “Would you?”

  “Of course. When would you and Brandon like to meet?”

  “Brandon’s in London right now,” she said. “On business.”

  “I see.” He had to tread carefully here. But she was a big girl. She knew what she was doing. And so did he.

  “Could we meet? For a drink or something? You could tell me about those listings.”

  “I’d be happy to,” he said, trying to sound professional even though that was sure as hell not how he felt. “How’s Thursday?” Today was only Monday; Thursday should be enough notice for Olivia. Thursday was perfect.

  Jared was practically humming when he got off the phone. So a-hole Brandon was in London. Yippee. He hoped he was having a good time because Jared was looking forward to having a very good time with his wife.

  Thursday he left work a little early so he could shower and change before heading out again. Lily was fussy when he got there; Supah had not been able to get her to take her afternoon nap. “She sleep good tonight,” said Supah.

  “I hope so,” said Jared, thinking of the evening with Isabel.

  Since Supah had not yet bathed or fed her, he decided he’d better do that before Olivia arrived. So he sat Lily in her high chair and attempted to feed her dinner, which came from tiny jars of strained chicken and rice, carrots, and applesauce. Usually Lily ate with appetite and enjoyment. But not tonight. She twisted her face away from every spoonful and even managed to push his hand out of the way, which lobbed a bright spray of pureed carrot all over the wall. While Jared was wiping it up, she overturned the dish containing the rest of the food onto the tray of the high chair and was happily slapping her hands in the resulting mess. When he tried to clean her hands, she ended up smearing both their faces with baby food. Baby food was dripping down from the tray onto the floor too.

  Jared tried to keep his temper in check. She was a baby, after all. She didn’t mean to be such a pain in the ass—even though that was exactly what she was. “I guess you’re not hungry tonight,” he said. “So we’ll just skip dinner, okay?” He lifted her from the high chair and managed to get her undressed and into the plastic tub without too much hassle. But she splashed nearly half of the water onto the floor; when it mixed with the baby food—which he’d not had time to clean up—it made a nasty sludge that he really did not want to track all over this apartment. He couldn’t clean it now, though, so he slipped off his shoes and did his best to avoid stepping in it.

  Finally she was bathed, dried, and in pajamas; Jared, however, was sticky with exertion, stress, and baby food. He still had to get her to sleep and get himself cleaned up and presentable. He deposited her in her crib and then had to endure her crying while he attacked the worst of the kitchen. He steeled himself against it, and eventually, her cries tapered off. He popped his head in to check on her—she was asleep. Great. He was running behind and needed to shower before Olivia got here.

  Twenty minutes later, he was dressed and ready to walk out the door. He hadn’t given Lily her bottle because she was still asleep, but he’d tell Olivia to do it if she woke up. So where was she? He checked his watch and began to pace. He texted her and was reassured by her immediate answering text.

  Be there very soon. Sorreee!

  No prob, he texted. Get here asap. Use yr key.

  He checked on Lily again. Still asleep. He didn’t love the idea of leaving now, but he figured it would be all right. Lily hadn’t had her nap, so she’d be out for a long while. And anyway, would it be so terrible if she cried for a couple of minutes before Olivia got here? Some people believed in the cry-it-out approach; he’d heard heated arguments in favor and against when he took Lily to the playground and hung out with the moms, nannies, and the occasional dad. And it did seem to work—when he’d left her crying in her crib tonight, she’d ended up falling asleep on her own.

  These were the things he told himself as he let himself out of the apartment and hurried to the street. No subway tonight; he was meeting Isabel at a new place she’d wanted to try in Hell’s Kitchen, and he was taking a cab. He was able to flag one down quickly, and once inside, he texted Olivia again. She didn’t reply, but he’d try her as soon as he got downtown. It’ll be all right, he told himself. It’ll be fine. He had his iPad on his lap; he’d brought the new listings to show Isabel. He didn’t think that was their real agenda; still, best to act as if.

  The place Is
abel had suggested was called Les Nuages, and it was packed. She was waiting for him up front, and as soon as he saw her, he forgot about texting Olivia and the listings on his iPad. He forgot about pretty much everything but the way she looked in that short, body-hugging black dress—what was all over it? fringe? feathers?—and those killer heels. Her legs—had he ever seen them before?—were terrific, and her bare, tanned shoulders were peeling slightly; he wished he could lick them. “I ordered for both of us,” she said, gesturing to the bottle of champagne that sat chilling in an ice bucket in front of her on the bar. “But I asked them to wait until you got here before they uncorked it.”

  Champagne? So that’s the way this was going down? “Well, what are we waiting for?” The bartender popped the cork, which shot off behind him, causing several onlookers to hoot in approval. Jared clinked his glass to Isabel’s. “Let the good times roll.” They polished off the bottle very quickly and then decided to head downtown, to Chelsea, to eat. They ended up at the Cosmo; Jared realized he had not been here since that last awful night with Caroline. He wanted to banish or, better still, obliterate the memory, so he immediately asked for a Scotch on the rocks. When it came, he drank it quickly, and then he and Isabel split a bottle of wine with dinner. Who even knew what they were eating? He was flying, feeling no pain, nothing but a ravening, need-it-bad, need-it-now kind of lust. Finally, the meal was over and they got into the elevator that would take them to their room; Jared still was known here, and he found his old privileged status was intact.

  As soon as they were alone, the door shut smartly behind them and bolted, he was kissing her the way he’d been wanting to kiss her all night, pulling the skinny straps from her shoulders—Jesus, he tore one in his excitement to get her naked, but she didn’t care a bit—and pushing her down on the wide, welcoming bed. He went wild when he saw the tan lines that encased her beautiful breasts—so small and perfect, the nipples as pink as gumdrops—and then ended above her ribs. Her white, lacy thong was no more than a scrap; he gently tugged it off with his teeth before touching the slick, salty place beneath it with his tongue. Her tanned thighs opened wider, and she grabbed his head, pulling him to her.

  After they were done, Isabel produced a nice little bag of blow, and they did a couple of lines together. Then he scooped her up and carried her back to the bed. “Brandon could never go again,” she said, arching her hips up to meet him.

  “Brandon,” he said as he thrust inside her, “is in merry old England. Cheerio!” And they both laughed so hard they nearly slid off the bed.

  Jared must have fallen dead asleep after round two. He woke somewhere around dawn with a ferocious need to piss and a headache that felt like a two-ton truck barreling through his skull. Standing naked in the bathroom, he was disoriented, and for a moment he confused Isabel’s sleeping form with Caroline’s. Caroline! God, he’d missed her! Then it all came back to him: where he was, whom he was with. This was followed by the sickening realization that he had not gone home last night. Even worse—he’d never texted Olivia, the way he’d planned. Jesus Christ. Was Lily okay?

  Coming out of the bathroom, he careened around, looking for his pants, which had ended up under the bed. He fumbled through the pocket, searching for his phone. When it was in his shaking palm, he saw that there were twenty text messages—maybe more—and as many missed calls. He was too freaked out to count any of them. The last one was from Athena, and it had come through just half an hour ago.

  WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!!! LILY WAS ALONE ALL NIGHT. YOU’D BETTER GET YOUR ASS HOME RIGHT NOW!

  Jared stared at the screen. How had Athena been dragged into this? What happened to Olivia? Was Lily all right? Galvanized by fear and guilt, he started yanking on his clothes. The activity woke Isabel, who let the sheet fall from her body as she rose to look at him. “What’s your hurry? Come back to bed.” She patted the place beside her invitingly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Now? Is it me?”

  “Hell no!” He knelt in front of her and traced her lips with his fingers. “You were amazing. You are amazing. But I can’t stay.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s my daughter.” He shoved one foot into the shoe he’d found and started looking around for the other.

  “Daughter! You didn’t tell me you had a daughter.” She sat up and pulled the sheet flat against her chest. “I didn’t even know you were married.”

  “I’m not.” When he saw her confused expression, he added, “It’s a long story. And I’ll tell it to you. Just not now.”

  She watched him in silence for a few seconds. “When will I see you again?”

  “Soon,” he said. “I promise.” Though what the fuck was any promise from him worth? “You go back to sleep. I’ll take care of the bill downstairs, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “All right,” she said. “If you say so . . .” She did not close her eyes, but remained propped up against the headboard, following him with her wary, alert gaze.

  He left, not even bothering to check his appearance in the mirror. Then he was in the lobby, swiping his credit card before stepping outside to hail a taxi. It was only minutes past dawn, and the just-risen sun had turned the sky a pale, cloud-streaked gold. Copies of the New York Times lay neatly coiled in their blue plastic sleeves, sparrows twittered decorously in front of a still-shuttered café, and an elderly woman walked a small white dog on a red leash. Everything seemed hopeful, decent, civilized—everything except Jared himself, a man who’d actually forgotten about his own flesh and blood, a man who’d left his baby girl by herself all night long.

  NINETEEN

  Jared told the cabdriver to hurry; he was meeting Supah at the pediatrician’s on Ninety-sixth Street. Athena had told him that Lily would not stop hiccupping—or crying—and so Supah had thought it prudent to take her to the doctor. Jared burned to think that this woman whom he paid had shown more concern for his child than he had.

  When the cab pulled up in front of the building, Jared fairly shoved a wad of bills at the driver and told him to keep the change. He gave the receptionist his name; he could swear he saw her eyebrows rise right up to meet her hairline. Jesus. He was in for it now.

  Inside the office, a tight-lipped Supah was holding Lily; Athena had already left for the office. Good. He knew she was going to rake him over the coals for this, and he was grateful for the reprieve. As it was, he had to listen to the doctor, an older black man with a nimbus of white at the sides of his mostly bald head, berate him for his conduct. “I can see that apart from that inexplicable lapse last night, she’s been very well cared for and, I hope, well loved, so I’m not going to report you to the authorities—this time. But if there’s ever even a whiff of something like this happening again”—he lowered his already deep baritone—“you can kiss your little angel good-bye.”

  Jared took his daughter. He was ready to hand Lily over to Supah so he could make amends with his boss; Supah had a different agenda.

  “Doctor, he be right. I can no work for you, Mr. Jared,” she said. “Not anymore.” Her look was both stern and contemptuous.

  “Lily needs you,” he said. Begged. “Please don’t punish her for what I did.”

  He sensed her hesitating and so he quickly went on. “I know I was an idiot last night, and I swear, nothing like that will ever happen again. But she trusts you. She needs you; please don’t leave her.”

  Supah looked away from Jared at Lily, and he could see her expression soften. “Okay, I stay.” She reached out to take Lily’s hands in her own. “For her. For Lily girl.”

  Once Jared had sent them back home, he walked slowly to the office. He needed to calm down—he was sweating and his head was throbbing—before he faced the avenging angel that was Athena. He also needed to get in touch with Olivia; at least ten of those text messages had been from her. Hurrying to his apartment, she�
�d tripped on a curb and broken her ankle; she’d been whisked off to the emergency room, where she’d been stuck for the next several hours. “I tried calling you, Mr. Masters,” she said again and again when they finally made contact. “But I couldn’t reach you.” No, she couldn’t because he’d been too busy screwing Isabel Clarke and getting wasted.

  Athena was waiting for him when he came in; apparently, Supah had phoned her when she’d gotten to the apartment and been unable to reach Jared. She ushered him right into her office and closed the door with somewhat more force than he thought necessary; the sound made his head throb an extra beat. “You could have lost her over this,” she said. “Child services could have taken her away.”

  “I know,” said Jared. “And maybe they’d be right.”

  “I hate to say it, Jared, but maybe she would have been better off with that woman who found her. I know I encouraged you to step forward and claim her. But now I’m thinking that the stress of it is too much for you. I mean, who walks out of an apartment and leaves a baby alone for five minutes, let alone the entire night?”

  “You think I don’t know this?” he said angrily. “You think I haven’t thought the same thing myself?”

  “So what are you going to do now?”

  “Mind my p’s and q’s, as my mama would have said. Straighten up. Fly right. Become a contender for the Dad of the Year award.” The thing he did not say was, Call Miranda Berenzweig. He had not told Athena about her message, the one in which she said she wanted to see him and was hoping to see Lily too. Would he get back to her so that they could talk?