"I tried to tell you this before, when it mattered, but you wouldnt listen. So why are you here now?"
"I thought . . . " Angie stood up suddenly. In about five seconds, she was going to start crying. If she started, God alone knew when shed stop. "It doesnt matter. I need to go. I was an idiot. " She ran for the door. As she rounded the corner into the hallway, she heard Diane say:
"Leave him alone, Angie. Youve hurt him enough. "
ANGIE HARDLY SLEPT THAT NIGHT. WHEN SHE CRAWLED into bed and closed her eyes, all she saw were memories flickering across the theater screen in her mind.
She and Conlan were in New York four years ago for his birthday. Hed bought her an Armani dress--her first designer garment.
"It cost more than my first car. I dont think I can wear it. We should return it, in fact. There are children starving in Africa . . . "
He came up beside her. Their reflections were framed in the perfect oval of the hotel room mirror. "Lets not worry about the starving children tonight. You look beautiful. "
She turned, looped her arms around him, and looked up into his blue, blue eyes.
She should have told him she loved him more than life, more even than the babies God had withheld from them. Why hadnt she?
"The thing about silk," he said, sliding his hand down her back, "is that it slips off as easily as it slips on. "
Shed felt a shiver of desire then; she remembered that clearly. But it had been the wrong time of the month for conception.
"Its the wrong time," shed said, not noticing until later how much those words had taken from him.
Stupid woman. Stupid.
Another memory came to her. More recent. This time they were in San Francisco on business. Shed been pitching a high-concept campaign for a national account. Conlan had come along for the ride. Hed thought they could make a romantic weekend out of it, or so hed said. Shed agreed because . . . well, their romantic weekends had become few and far between by then.
In the Promenade Bar, thirty-four stori
es above the busy San Francisco streets, they chose a window table. The city, in all her jeweled glory, lay glittering all around them.
Conlan excused himself and went to the restroom. Angie ordered a Cosmopolitan for herself and a Makers Mark on the rocks for him. While she waited, she studied the companys statistics again. The waitress delivered the drinks.
Angie was stunned by the bill. "Seventeen dollars for one Cosmopolitan?"
"Its the Promenade," the waitress answered. "Magic is expensive. You want the drinks?"
"Sure, thanks. "
Conlan returned a minute later. He had barely sat down when Angie leaned over and said, "I closed out the tab. Seventeen bucks for one drink. "
He sighed, then smiled. Had it been forced? Then, she hadnt thought so. "None of your DeSaria economy plans for us tonight. Weve got the money, Ange. We might as well spend it. "
Finally, she understood. Hed come along on this trip not in search of romance, but rather in search of a different life. It was his way of dealing with a dream that hadnt come true. He wanted to remind himself--and her--that they could make a full, wonderful life without children, and that getaway weekends were the trade-off for a too-quiet house and an empty nursery.
What she should have said was "Then Ill have three drinks . . . and order the lobster. "
It would have been so easy. He would have kissed her then, and maybe their new life would have begun.
Instead, shed started to cry. "Dont ask me to give it up," shed whispered. "Im not ready. "
And just like that, their new beginning had slid down into the mud of the same old middle.
Why hadnt she seen the truth when it was right beside her, sharing her bed night after night? All this time, shed thought that the search for a baby had ruined them.
But that wasnt the whole truth. It had broken her, and she in turn had ruined them. No wonder hed divorced her.
No wonder.