But fun wasn’t even on the agenda. Even though they’d already cleared the air at their old hangout, it felt like there was so much baggage. She was nervous as a cat, her insides kind of squeezing, her heart feeling a bit larger than usual. If only she felt she could be cool.
When she got to the sushi bar, he was parked in front. He was leaning against his car, waiting. His appearance had the same impact on her. He was relaxed; he was suave. He looked intelligent. His hair was neatly trimmed, and he wore a sport coat over a knit shirt and pair of jeans.
She parked just two spaces away and got out. And he opened his arms.
It was as before—she seemed to do as he commanded. She walked right into his arms, and he immediately covered her lips in a scorching kiss. Her arms wrapped around him, his arms encircled her and they were locked like that in front of anyone who should drive or walk by.
“Addie. Addie,” he said softly in her ear. “I don’t think we want sushi after all.”
“I’ve eaten already. I was just going to have a glass of wine and watch you eat.”
“Good. Then let’s drive up to the lookout where we can talk in private. Jump in.”
He opened the door for her, and the first thing she noticed was a soccer ball, a helmet and knee pads, child-size, in the backseat. “What’s that?”
“My eight-year-old is on a soccer team. I take her to practice and games whenever I can. My twelve-year-old is into music. They’re very different.”
“Oh. Is your wife remarried?”
“Sarah? Ah, let’s just say she’s having trouble finding herself. Since she’s never been much of a housekeeper, I suggested she look under the bed. How’s work going, Addie? You mentioned it, but only briefly.”
“The lookout is kind of isolated. I’d rather talk inside. Or right here.”
“There’s more to do than talk.” He took her elbow and tried to urge her into the passenger seat.
“Talking is really all there is for me. In fact, I don’t know what more there is to say.”
He reluctantly closed the passenger door. “I’ve been thinking about us,” he said. “I think our relationship was good, then we got derailed. Ran amok. I admit, I made a lot of mistakes.”
“Mistake number one—you shouldn’t have gotten involved with a student. You were married. It was a disaster just waiting to happen.”
“You got pregnant,” he said. “I just assumed...” He shrugged.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, taking a chance like that. I was in love. You said you were getting divorced. You said your marriage had been bad for a long time, but it wasn’t all that bad if you managed to make a baby with your wife.”
“So many misunderstandings,” he said. “Marriage is complicated. There are good days and bad days. You can be talking about divorce but then your wife is pleasant and you don’t just refuse to—I can’t explain it easily. We had talked about divorce, but we hadn’t taken any action. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you, but then you shouldn’t have gotten involved with me, either. You were old enough to make good decisions.”
“I should make one now,” she said, her voice low.
“Don’t be hasty, darling. We both made mistakes, but what we had was powerful. Brief, but amazing.”
“Do you plan to pressure me?”
“Not intentionally. But having you back in my life has taken over all my thoughts. And here we are, different people. Older, smarter. And you’re more beautiful than ever. I don’t know how that’s possible, but—”
“I lost a little weight,” she said.
“I don’t remember you as overweight,” he said.
“Most of that happened after,” she said, meaning the pregnancy.
He turned toward her, pulling her in for another kiss. “See what I mean?” he whispered. “When we are together, it’s like fireworks. I know we had our misunderstandings, but don’t they seem small now?”
They did not seem small, she thought.
I don’t know why I kept letting him come back.
That thought came out of nowhere and she recognized the voice—one of their clients who had been in a dead-end relationship said it had been her own fault. Every time her deadbeat boyfriend came back, full of apologies and promises, she let him. He rarely worked, didn’t help out with the kids, she hadn’t done anything with her life and she was thinking of taking him back yet again just to make the rent.
Why did I always feel like I needed a man, that man, in my life when he never did anything to make my life better?
How many similar stories had Addie listened to in the months she’d worked at the office? She was thirty-two, for God’s sake! Hadn’t she learned by now not to listen to empty-headed sweet talk that had no real substance to show for it?
Adele pushed Hadley away. “No, this is not going to work. Not like this.”
“Like what?” he asked, reaching for her.
She pushed him away again. “It’s not going to be like this. We stumbled into each other, had a talk about our failed relationship, cleared the air and now you seem to think we’re just going to get back together. We’re not.”
“I just think we should try it out. Act on our feelings, see where we stand...”
“I’m going home now, Hadley,” she said.
“Addie, don’t be angry just because I’m in love with you!”
“And don’t say that,” she admonished. “You couldn’t possibly be in love with me. You know what? In eight years you never called me, but it turned out you only needed a few days to find my phone number. You didn’t call me because there was no reason to. I’m done. Let go of me.”
“But Adele, I—”
“Now!” she said firmly.
With a grunt and a heavy sigh, he dropped his arms. He muttered that she was being unnecessarily difficult, that she should know by now he was sincere.
She nearly laughed, but inside she was a little too sad. And in desperate need of some hard-core counseling to find out what it was about Hadley Hutchinson that made her insides melt. What had he ever shown her that was deep enough to ponder? Anyone could tell you you’re beautiful; anyone could say holding you was like coming home.
“Goodbye, Hadley,” she said. “Good luck with everything.” She walked briskly to her car.
“And that’s it? After all we’ve been through?”
She turned to face him. “Would you like to talk about the fact that we fought about an abortion you wanted me to have, yet you never once called me to see if I was all right? Or the fact that you had my number all these years and yet you act as if some great detective work was required to find it?”
“I didn’t have it,” he said. “I lost a lot of numbers, and you said you didn’t want to hear from me ever again.”
“And yet even knowing I was pregnant, you didn’t try to find me sooner? Oh Hadley, you’re not very convincing. If you really had loved me, you’d have been concerned.”
“I was con—”
“I’m going home. I’m not ready to rehash all this with you. Besides, you don’t want to talk. You’re looking for something else.”
“You misjudge me,” he said. “There were a lot of unfortunate circumstances, a lot of harsh things said back then, and—”
“Good night, Hadley.”
She got into her car, locked the doors before starting the ignition and began what was a short drive home. And she cried. Not because her heart was broken, not because of the disappointment, but mostly because she felt stupid. It wasn’t as though she had longed for him for eight dreary years. At first she ached for want of him. Then she hated him for what he’d put her through without ever looking back. Then she chalked him up to a devastating mistake and, more recently, let herself wonder if it had all been a misunderstanding of giant proportions.
As she drove by the market, she caught sight of Jake pulling in the awnings. The sun had set some time ago; it was now nearly nine. The market closed at ten. She pulled into the space in front and got out.
“Getting ready to call it a night?” she asked.
“Pretty soon,” he said. “What are you up to?”
“I’m thinking about some pistachio ice cream.”
“Are you celebrating or consoling yourself?”
“I’m not entirely sure, I guess.”
“Wait for me on that bench,” he said, pointing to the secondhand store across the street. They closed at six and the shop was dark. As she sat there, she couldn’t help but think of the many times she’d leaned on Jake when she was upset or unhappy or even a little lonely. He never once complained.
In just five minutes, he came out of the store with a quart of ice cream balanced in one hand. He crossed the street and pulled two spoons out of his pocket. He sat down and put the ice cream between them, then handed her a spoon. He lifted the lid, put it aside, loaded up his spoon and aimed it at her mouth.
She took the bite.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “You are a master at knowing my needs.”
“Actually, no. I get no credit. You asked for pistachio ice cream. What’s eating at you?”
She filled the spoon and aimed it toward his mouth. “I ran into the professor,” she said.
“The professor?” he asked, his countenance darkening.
“That one, yes. I actually ran into him a few days ago on the Berkeley campus, and tonight he wanted to know if we could meet and I went. That might’ve been a mistake. I’m still thinking about it.”
“You were at the campus?”
“Yes. I’m planning to start my master’s program in counseling, so I went to see the career adviser. You know, to see what credits transfer, that sort of thing. And there he was, walking from the parking lot. He asked if we could have a glass of wine and talk about things, so I did.”