Chapter Thirty
Mindy
New York High.
The sign that’s become iconic in my life flashes above the entrance as we pull into the parking lot. The ma?tre d' escorts us through the swanky dining room and we plop down in a cozy booth, gazing intently at each other.
After a few moments of tense silence, Maron casually throws out: "So, how’s life been treating you?"
I close my eyes for a moment. How do I even begin answering his question? Do I tell him about the crushing loneliness since he left? What it’s like to be a single mother in New York? How Sharon’s selective mutism is bringing new challenges? Or that she just had a serious surgery and we weren’t sure she was going to come out of it?
Maybe I should tell him about the pain I’d felt when I thought he got shot and died. Or maybe I should finally explain to him what happened on the night when everything fell apart: that Maurice stupidly mixed Tramoxine with alcohol and that I was only trying to help him. Or that I had nothing to do with Alexis exposing Tramoxine to the public.
Then again, all that was an eternity ago. And this clearly isn’t the time to tear open old wounds. Maybe there won’t ever be a time. All I know is that I’m exhausted from barely sleeping last night and I’m just happy that my daughter is going to be okay. And that right now, I just want to sit here and simply enjoy seeing Maron again.
"Taking every day as it comes," I reply. It sounds so lame, but it’s all I can come up with right now. And I’m not lying per se, if anything, I’m giving him a vague version of the truth.
Maron clears his throat and locks eyes with me. "I saw you here with some guy," he nonchalantly remarks, but I can sense a hint of emotion in his tone.
I raise my eyebrow. What guy? Nesbit? The one who could only talk about his investments, and I had to fake an emergency call from Betty just to escape that dreadful date? And he saw me? What the hell was he doing here anyway?
I give Maron a disapproving look. "You can’t be serious, Maron."
"I am. " He nods earnestly. "I was sitting right here and you were at that table over there," he gestures towards the secluded corner.
I shake my head. "And?"
"Are you two a thing?" he asks after a short silence.
I roll my eyes. I can’t believe he’s doing this. "If you have to know, we aren’t. It was a failed date. Never saw the guy after that."
"Right." Maron nods. He doesn’t show any emotion, but I know him well enough to tell that he’s relieved. And that makes me happy.
Why the hell does that make you happy, Mindy?
"And who were you here with?" I want to bite back the question, but it’s out before I can think better of it. What if he says something like, ‘Oh, just celebrating the arrival of our third child with my wife.’
Maron visibly clenches his jaw. "My girlfriend."
Instantly, a surge of irrational jealousy hits me, but to force it down. It’s my fault. I set up a trap for myself, then walked right into it.
"It was our last dinner together," he adds. "It’s over."
This time, it’s my turn to feel relieved. I don’t show him any of that, of course. Silence stretches between us, weighted with lingering glances and unvoiced questions.
"So." Maron smirks. "Looks like we’re both single."
I give a small, shaky nod and my attention unwillingly drops to the plush curve of his mouth. "Small correction," I whisper meaningfully. "I’m a single mom."
Maron goes crystalline still and the air suddenly feels thicker. I can tell he’s got questions, but I know it would be stupid to jump the gun and dump everything on him now.
"She’s a cute kid," is all he says. A smile plays at the edge of his mouth but I can feel the tension beneath.
"She’s the best." I smile, then pause. "So, you met my daughter how exactly?"
Our daughter, I should say.
"Well," he pauses, then lifts one foot over the other. "I was invited to the school event. And Sharon came up to me."
"I heard all about it." I look at him intently. "I just didn’t know who she was talking to."
"Where were you then?" he asks, turning the conversation back to me.
Oh, funny you should ask.
I was busy presenting my nudes in a boardroom full of executives.
"Work," I say curtly, but my heart begins to race for two reasons. First, Maron bringing up the school event I missed just breaks my heart all over again. Second, if Maron was there, it must mean he has kids who go to Willow Heights. Why else would someone go to an event like this?
"So, you’re hanging out at school events now, Maron?" I ask.
He smirks. "Not as often as you might think."
I tilt my head, waiting for an explanation, but my heart is beating so hard in my chest that I worry it might just leap out and start tap dancing on the table.
Maron, seemingly oblivious to my internal struggle, takes a deep breath. "After that crazy night... you know, the launch party..." he trails off.
"We don’t have to go there if you don’t want to," I say quickly, which is stupid. I want us to go there. I want an explanation.
"Let’s just say my life took a different direction." He pauses before adding, "As for Willow Hights, I’m one of their regular donors. That’s why I got invited to Sharon’s event."
I release a breath I had no idea I was holding and I can feel my shoulders relax. "That is very generous of you," is all I tell him.
The waiter appears and places our food in front of us. The delicate aroma of butter and herbs wafts from the perfectly seared salmon fillet. My mouth begins to water. I only had a bag of chips all day, one I got from the vending machine at the hospital.
Maron stares at me, the intensity of his eyes boring into mine. "Let’s get some wine," he suggests.
"Might not be the smartest move." I glance at him. "I hadn’t eaten all day."
He smirks. "All the more reason we should get some," he says and orders the wine before I could even respond.
Less than a minute later, the waiter brings a fine bottle of French red wine to our table and expertly pours two glasses. Maron smoothly picks up a glass and hands it to me, clinking his own against it. "To the unlikely reunion," he adds.
I should not be drinking right now. It’s stupid, irresponsible, but I still go with the flow. Maybe I just can’t resist his charm. It’s undeniable that he has the same effect on me that he had all those years ago, before Sharon was even born. Three glasses of wine later, I feel my cheeks getting rosy and my inhibitions loosening with each sip.
The deep blue inside Maron’s eyes is also becoming slightly glassy. "I fucking missed you, Mindy," he says.
"It’s just the wine talking." I smile at him as I finish my glass. My head is a little woozy, and I can feel my libido rising. I haven’t felt this way in seven years, and I’m not sure how to feel about it. I can tell where this is going and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.
But before I could protest or even voice my concerns, Maron orders another bottle.
And I know there’s no turning back.