Impossible

“Yes, it is. It's honest. I'm nearly ten years older than you, and you want to behave any way you want. You don't want to be respectable and conservative. You have no intention of adapting to my life. You want to play at this, have some fun, and play wacky artist. If you do that in my life, Liam, you're going to turn my whole world upside down, and I won't let you do it.”

“I behaved perfectly at Harry's Bar,” he said, sounding miffed, and then added grudgingly, “except for the shirt and socks. If I knew it was so important to you, I'd have bought a new shirt and some socks, if that's what matters to you, for chrissake.” He was beginning to shout.

“It's not about the shirt and socks. It's about who you are and the way you want to live. You keep telling me no one can control you, no one can tell you what to do. You want to be a free spirit, Liam, and you have every right to do that. You just can't do that in my life. You and I both know that when the spirit moves you, you want to do whatever comes into your head. You think it's funny. Well, I don't. And like it or not, I'm too goddamn old for you. You're my son's best friend, for God's sake. He's twenty-five years old. I'm forty-eight.” His behavior and the rules he set for himself were far more appropriate in her son's world than hers, and Liam liked it that way. In the name of art and independence, he had resisted growing up all his life.

“I'm thirty-nine,” Liam said plaintively. “I'm closer to your age than his.”

“But you don't want to act like it. That's the problem. You want to pretend you're twenty-five. If I wanted another child, I'd adopt one. That's not the relationship I want with you.” She had raised her voice, too, in answer to his.

“What relationship do you want with me? I thought we worked things out just fine last Friday. And we didn't do badly this weekend, either. I don't want to just go to bed with you. I like talking to you, too.”

“So do I. But you're a luxury I can't afford.”

“You are surely and without a doubt the most stubborn woman I know. I'll be there on Friday, whether you like it or not. We can argue about it this weekend.”

“I don't want to see you,” she said, feeling panicked. Her feelings for him made her feel out of control.

“Well, I want to see you. One more time at least, to discuss this face-to-face. I can't talk about things like this on the phone.”

“There's nothing to discuss. This is impossible, Liam. We have to accept that. We have no other choice.”

“You're the one who's making it impossible. It's only impossible if you want it to be.” He sounded frustrated beyond words.

“Then let's just say I do.”

“This is the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

“Doing the right thing feels that way sometimes. But in this case, that's what we're going to do.” She didn't say that if he had done the right thing with Becky, he would still have his wife and kids with him. Instead, he had indulged himself. And he was trying to do that again, with her.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” he said, sounding depressed. If anything, she had gotten firmer in her resolve not to get involved with him, despite the dog, which was a lovely gift, but still didn't convince her that he was the man for her.

“Don't call me, unless it's about gallery business. I don't want to discuss this with you again. We just go around and around, and drive each other crazy.” But he drove her even more so when she was near him. She had never been as physically attracted to any man in her life. It was hard for her to understand and even harder still to resist.

“I'll call you this week,” he said, but didn't, which Sasha felt was a relief. It pained her to do it, but she believed she had finally persuaded him to let it go. No matter how much she wanted to be with him again, she knew she couldn't.

The one consolation in her life that week was the joy of the puppy Liam had sent her. Socks was adorable, and despite frequent accidents on her carpets, Sasha was enchanted with her. It had been the best gift he could give her. The next best gift was leaving her alone, which he did.

The weather was awful in Paris again that weekend, gray wintry days that seemed relentless. Foggy mornings, rainy nights, and depressing afternoons with bitter winds that chilled you to the bone. She worked late on Friday, went to bed early, and was at her desk at the gallery by nine the next morning, with the dog. Everyone was in love with Socks, even Bernard.

Sasha worked in the gallery all day Saturday, and she was sitting alone in her house with the puppy on Saturday night. Liam hadn't called her since Monday, and in some ways, she was relieved. In others, she was sad. She was crazy about him, but in every way that mattered, he was forbidden fruit. A fruit she was determined not to touch or eat, whatever it cost her. He was a sacrifice she had to make.