Vanity Fare (17 page)

How could Mr. Intimidating suddenly turn into Mr. Nice? He and Aidan shared a smile, and I saw something in his eyes that told me. Oh. He really does like kids that much. Wow.

“Is that your husband?” one of the other moms asked. I’d seen her around the playground; she was one of those who hadn’t completely given up on being attractive. Her long, blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, tiny studs—diamond, I guessed—in her ears, and she had on an argyle sweater I’d seen in the J.Crew catalog, but had passed over in favor of being able to afford dinner that week.

“Uh, no, just a”—what was he, exactly?—“a family friend.”

“Oh, that is so nice of him to do, then. I had to promise my husband he could watch football all day tomorrow.”

“Football’s over, I think; wasn’t it the Super Bowl a few weeks ago?”

She rolled her mascaraed eyes. “Football, hockey, I don’t know. Anyway, I had to promise I’d take the kids—I have a younger one, too, she’s at a friend’s house—to the movies while he sat on his duff and watched sports. All because I am forcing him to play with his son.” Her tone was almost as bitter as mine had been a little while earlier. At least I didn’t have that kind of bargain to make anymore.

She gestured to one of the plastic folding chairs in front of the big plate-glass window that opened into the gym. “Would you like to sit? It’s not like there’s anything we can go do in the half hour or so, might as well rest a little. My name is Caroline,” she added, holding out her hand.

“Molly.” I clasped her hand and perched myself on the chair, nervously smoothing my sweater. Caroline crossed her legs and swung to face me. “So where is your husband? Off watching sports or something?”

“Um, we’re in the middle of getting a divorce, actually,” I said, surprised I could admit as much to a stranger without crying.

She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Actually,” I said, realizing it was true, “it’s much better for us this way. He’s happier, I’m happier . . . Aidan’s working on it.”

“That’s good, then. It must be hard, though.”

“Mm,” I replied. Changing the subject seemed like a darn good idea. “What do you do?”

She shrugged. “My husband is a lawyer, he works crazy hours, so it made more sense for me to stay at home and take care of the kids. I was the IT director of a financial services company.”

She probably had a better résumé than I did. She definitely had better mom-style.

“So is that your boyfriend?” she asked. She raised her eyebrow at me, as if to imply I had gone out of my league. Or maybe I was just projecting.

“No, just a family friend,” I repeated. Maybe if I said it enough times it’d be true. “Actually, someone I’m working for right now.”

“Oh, what do you do?” She sounded surprised, as if she couldn’t believe I actually did anything. Besides trot my son around to birthday parties, of course.

“Copywriting. Freelance.” I stopped myself before I started talking about the Teaching Fellows’ program. She was just a little too inquisitive, and I felt like I should be more reserved. I glanced over into the gym, where Nick was heaving Aidan onto his shoulders. His shirt raised up, revealing a taut abdomen with a trail of dark hair leading down . . .

“What kind of copywriting?” Ms. Nosy asked. I had to force myself to look away and into her sparkling eyes.

“For a bakery. Not a regular one, it’s being opened by one of those celebrity chefs.” I knew that because of course I had Googled Simon a few dozen times.

But now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to return to watching Mr. Not-As-Intimidating’s Tummy.

“That sounds fattening,” she said in a coy tone. “It’s hard to stay away from forbidden treats, isn’t it?”

Was she reading my mind? There was nothing I wanted more than to get closer to one of those forbidden treats. The one wearing the jeans and the sexy smile. But I wouldn’t do that in a million years . . . would I?

“Mommy, Nick says we can do
that again sometime, just us. Can we? Mommy, can we?”

We were walking home, Aidan clutching tightly onto Nick’s hand, me holding the party paraphernalia—a goodie bag; a doubtlessly smooshed piece of birthday cake Aidan had insisted on taking home for Grandma; and a Power Rangers party hat with a ripped antenna.

It had gotten colder, and I shivered a little in my coat. Nick tucked my hand into his arm and pulled me toward his body.

Oh, I liked the way that felt. Aidan stopped to gaze in a toy window, and Nick and I stood back a little on the side-walk, watching him literally press his nose against the glass.

“Aidan, honey, back up a little, please. The store doesn’t want your breath on its glass.” He moved about half an inch, then stared at a Batmobile with purple and green tires. I turned to look at Nick.

“Thanks again. Aidan loved it, and he definitely had a much better time than if I had done it. I would’ve spent the whole time complaining about my sore back and having to crawl around on the floor.”

He laughed. “I doubt you would’ve spoiled Aidan’s time like that. The way he talks about you, you’re not the type to put yourself ahead of your kid. Although he did say not to get between you and your coffee, but I think I guessed that already.”

“What did he say?” Usually Aidan’s comments about me were reserved for times when I didn’t let him have what he wanted.

“That you always let him have dessert, no matter how late it is. That your favorite Justice League character is Martian Manhunter—good choice, by the way; that you like to read, and you can be very silly. He likes that a lot.”

“Mommy?” Aidan’s attention was back on us. “Mommy, now that Grandma’s staying with us, does that mean Dante will, too?”

I heaved a sigh. “Um, no, honey.” Because if I had to live with my mother and my mother’s cat my head would explode. I tried to get him distracted from thoughts of that hideous beast. And for once I didn’t mean my mother. “Aidan, what movie did you want to watch when we get home?”

He took off down the block without even answering, and Nick and I started walking quickly to keep up with him. “When in trouble,” I whispered, “dangle the possibility of mindless hours of viewing in front of them. Works every time.”

“Works for Simon, too,” Nick whispered. I choked back a surprised laugh. “Who’s Dante?” he asked.

“My mother’s cat. Hates everybody but my mother, and barely tolerates her. He has a tendency to mark his territory everywhere.”

“Ah, sounds . . .”

“Horrid, I know.”

“I was going to say it sounds like Simon.”

I let out a surprised bark of laughter and leaned into him. Boy, did that feel good. Oops. “Here we are.”

Aidan was waiting for us on the front stoop, an impatient look on his face. I turned to Nick, noticing how he still looked totally handsome, even though I was sure the brisk air had turned my face to a beet. Well, the air and other things.

“You don’t have to come up if you don’t have the time. I mean, I’m guessing you probably have plans or something . . . ?” I couldn’t believe what a wimp I was.

He gave me an incredulous look. “And miss out on whatever Aidan’s planning on picking for his movie tonight? You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Okay, Molly, you’re up. Time to get brave.

I opened the door and we went upstairs, Aidan having latched onto Nick’s hand again and talking about superheroes, Pokémon, dragons, and the other creatures that inhabited his imagination. Mom was still out, and the house was blessedly calm. She had made a stab at straightening up, too, so the table was almost clean. I shucked my shoes off in the hallway; Nick and Aidan were having a lively debate about which movie to choose.

“Mommy? I picked
Tarzan
.” He waved the cartoon jungle hunk in my face.

“Okay, honey, let me put it in.”
Tarzan
was my favorite kids movie. After all, it was secretly a romance, and I always felt that little goo moment when Jane decided to stay with her muscle-bound ape-man. Plus even in the cartoon, Tarzan was hot.

I headed to the kitchen to make coffee. At least I knew he liked
that
. I tried not to notice how much my hands were shaking as I tipped the ground coffee into the filter. When it was ready, I walked to the living room and said his name, then shook my head when he couldn’t hear me and gestured for him to follow me back to the kitchen.

“What did you say? Tarzan was yelling something,” he said with a smile.

“I made coffee, would you like some?”

“Sure. Nothing in it, please.” As if I didn’t know that.

“Hard-ass,” I replied with a smirk, ducking back into the kitchen. I heard him behind me, and smelled his distinctive scent. I could feel him two feet in back of me. This was the time. Now or never, million years, etc., etc. I turned around abruptly, almost bumping into him.

“Nick, can I ask you a question?” My voice was high, strained.

He backed up a little, putting his hand on the counter and meeting my eyes. “Sure. What’s up? Got another birthday party to go to?” His smile was easy, relaxed.

“Uh, no, not exactly. I was wondering. That is, I was—” I turned to look at him. His face had frozen. I wondered if he suspected what I was going to ask him. I wondered what I’d do if he said no.

“I wanted to know if you would be able to go out with me. On a date sort of thing.”

His eyes closed for a minute, as if he were in pain. Then he opened them slowly, gazing deep into my eyes as he opened his mouth. “I’m sorry, Molly. No.”

“Oh.”

He stepped into the kitchen, brushing my arm. I jumped back, away from the contact. He reached into my cabinet and took out two mugs, then poured coffee into them. He met my eyes, a pained look in his.

I opened the cabinet doors with a sudden mad craving for cookies. Rats. Somehow I had turned into Mother Hubbard.

He raised the mugs. “I’ll carry these in, then.”

His footsteps echoed down the hallway as I slammed the cabinet door shut. Rejected. And just for a date. What was wrong with me?

Nothing, Molly. Nothing is wrong with you.
I was beginning to
like
my inner voice.
You don’t know how long he’s here for. You don’t know where he lives. You don’t know anything about him.

And whose fault is that?
my inner voice said querulously.
He’s not very forthcoming, is he, and you wanted to go out with him why?

Because he’s kind, good with Aidan, and smart. Oh, and totally, amazingly sexy, too.

Well, as long as your own motivations are clear.

And even though he said no, I did do something I wouldn’t have done in a million years.

Which was more than I had a few minutes ago. The rest of my life didn’t seem so scary anymore.

Yeast of Eden

In this American classic, Iowan cornmeal vies with its more dramatic, seductive sibling—the Illinois-grown pumpkin—for the favors of the alluring California walnut. Chewy, delicious, and filling, you’ll remember this bread long after the romantic triangle has played out its inevitable drama.

17

“WHERE’S YOUR MOM TONIGHT?” LISSA ASKED, REMOVING
her too-cute-for-words shoes. She’d come over right after work, and it looked like she could use a hug.

“Mom’s visiting her devil cat. I think that’s who was giving her the stock tips—
more Purina stock, Kathleen
.”

She laughed, then sat down on the sofa with an audible sigh. “Oh, my, that feels good. It’s been such a day.”

“What’s up?” I said, sitting down next to her. Her skirt was full and pleated, with a desert scene played out in shades of green and blue across its folds. I leaned against her shoulder and smelled her soft, springlike perfume. It suited her.

“Work. It sucks. And Tony. He sucks, too.”

“Which one is worse? Let’s prioritize.”

“Tony. He’s worse.”

Tony was quickly moving toward the top of the “People I Am Not Fond Of” List. Topping the list, of course, was Hugh; second was probably Tony. Sylvia probably rounded out the top five, following the guy at the deli who glared at me when I asked for more milk in my coffee and the Park Slope mom who scolded Aidan when he’d accidentally bumped her precious offspring. Oh, and Natalie. But I barely knew her, so why did I put her on the list? And then I remembered her snotty smirk when I first met her.
That’s
why she was on the list.

“What’s going on with Tony?”

“I like him so much, he’s exactly what I’ve always wanted in a boyfriend: smart, successful, cultured. But it seems like I’m not exactly what he’s always wanted. I’m trying, I really am, but he’s always pushing me to do more. He says it’ll make me grow as a person.”

“Do you think he’s right?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral. I’d received that “make me grow as a person” line myself. Fuck them both.

“I do think he’s right.” I could tell she was trying hard not to be defensive. It wasn’t working. “I’m not as smart as he—”

“Now stop it right there.” I wished someone had said this to me, I thought as I heard my vehement tone. “Lissa, you cannot possibly believe you’re dumb.”
Or not ambitious, or social, or what I need in a wife.
“You’ve done all sorts of amazing things, you’re doing well in your job, you’re friends with me, even . . . fer Chrissakes, you’re not
dumb
.”

“Thanks, Molly. I just wish I didn’t feel so stupid when I was with Tony and his friends. He knows about wine, and food, and the best nightclubs—”

“All that means,” I replied through gritted teeth, “is that he has a subscription to
Time Out
and does stuff at night.”

She was too far gone to listen to me. “And when he and his friends talk about movies and art—” She wrung her hands. “I’m hopeless.”

I grabbed her and shook her. “Lissa. Listen to me. You are not dumb. You cannot walk around defining yourself by the man in your life.”

A little voice mocked me in my head.
Like you did?
Hugh had always pushed me to be a Domestic Goddess, not understanding that boiling water was an accomplishment for me. He’d gotten frustrated when I’d forgotten to pay the bills, or pick up his dry-cleaning, or put my coffee mug in the sink.

Never mind that I was playing with our son, taking care of the household as best I could, and playing therapist whenever he felt insecure.

Never mind that kids were kids only once, but laundry was forever.

Never mind that he never asked me how I was doing, or if I had had a good day.

Never mind all that.
I
couldn’t anymore.

Lissa’s voice jerked me from my memories. “Can you help me?”

“Of course I can.” I patted her hand. “You’re my friend, I won’t pass judgment. Unless you want me to.”

We started our crash course in culture by watching
Pride and Prejudice,
the good version, the one where Colin Firth takes a dip in a pond. White shirts haven’t been the same since.

Right when Lizzy was freaking out about her sister running off with Wickham, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“You’re there.” It was Simon.

“Yes,” I said, turning my back away from the screen so I wouldn’t get distracted by another hot Brit. “I live here.”

He did not appear to appreciate my sense of humor. “Well, I need you to get dressed in your classiest clothes and head up to my mum’s on the Upper East Side right away.”

“What? Why? Is there a problem with the copy or something?”

He snorted. “No, of course not, I just need you up here. You see, Mother is throwing a party, and I got the dates wrong, and I need you up here.”

“What? No!”

His voice got a steely edge. “I need you up here, Molly.” He lowered his voice to a quieter, but still kinda nasty, tone. “My mother hopes to set me up with one of her friends’ daughters, and I need to prove I’m seeing someone.”

“I can’t, Simon.”

His voice got almost whiny. “Please, Molly? You don’t have to stay long, just long enough to prove I’m not see—That is, just to introduce you to Mum and her husband.”

“Not seeing Natalie? Is that what you were going to say?” I felt my temper—that thing I’d just begun to meet—start to rise. “Thanks for making me feel like a weak substitute.”

“That was uncalled for.” He sounded icy.

“You called me, buddy,” I said. “And I can’t shoot up to the Upper East Side just so you can dangle me in front of your mother. We’ve had two dates, Simon, that doesn’t mean I’m obliged to you for this kind of thing. Certainly not at the last minute.”

I could not believe I was saying this. Talk about not in a million years!

“Fine.” He sounded really pissed off. “I’ll speak to you about this later, Molly.”

And he hung up without even saying goodbye.

I shook my head as I replaced the phone back in the cradle.

“Something wrong?” Lissa asked. She’d paused the DVD, thank goodness. I needed to wallow in some romantic Austen-ness.

“No. Just a man thinking he can order me around like I was his property.”

She gave me a surprised look. “Wow. You sure are teaching me a lot, Molly. Tonight’s lesson is: Don’t be at his beck and call.” She nodded, a satisfied expression on her face. “That’s a good one to know.”

I felt embarrassed she’d heard me get snippy, but also happy she’d heard a woman talk back to a guy. “Want some ice cream?” I asked, heading to the kitchen. “Colin Firth’s hotness demands some icy cool yumminess, don’t you think?”

“Uh-huh. And Molly?”

“What?”

“Thanks.”

After she left, I peeked into Aidan’s room.
Mom still wasn’t back yet, and the house was as still and silent as my love life. Or as still as it would be after I had another talk with Simon. Aidan was wearing his astronaut jammies and had thrown the covers off in his sleep. He was sprawled across the bed, one arm above his head, the other just touching one of his coiled plastic snakes.

His breathing was deep and regular, as free of care as I could hope for. I bent down and kissed his cheek, and he swatted idly at my face, still sleeping.

When the man in my life was this cute, how could I possibly bemoan my fate? I was luckier than I knew, and being Aidan’s mom was worth it.

I closed his door as I walked back into the hall, thinking of what I’d say. And that I was about to do something I never thought I’d do in a million years: Tell a gorgeous man I didn’t want to date him.