"Are you sure you want to do this?" Heather pulled her hair across her shoulder and waited for Billy to fasten the clasp on the necklace. "I can think of about twenty different ways this can turn into a disaster."
Billy smiled. "I don't really have a choice. When I asked her about this guy, it didn't exactly go over well…" He stopped, his mind flashing back to the night a few weeks ago. He hadn't told Heather about that conversation, telling her instead that he'd caught Phyllis at the office the next day. That wasn't exactly a lie either. They had talked at the office the next day. A good night's sleep had done absolutely nothing to put Phyllis in a more forgiving mood though and, when she suggested they all go out to dinner together so 'everyone would be on the same page', he had no other choice.
"What about saying no—did you ever think about that?" She smiled up at him. "I'm not trying to be harsh, but I can't think of a worse way to spend an evening than sitting across from your ex-wife and her new boyfriend."
Boyfriend.
He was thankful he wasn't facing her when she said the word as he was certain his face betrayed him. Try as he might, he couldn't be okay with it. In his heart, Phyllis would always belong with him even if his head knew differently.
"Everything okay?" Phyllis looked over at Mark who had barely taken his eyes off the screen the entire ride over.
"Yeah, it's fine. I've just got to deal with all this."
"You have to deal with it all tonight?" She sighed as she looked out the window at the cars passing by. She wondered how many people sat happily in those cars. How many people were in them making memories, sharing conversations, and how many people were just like her—just going through the motions—just existing.
Billy pulled out the chair, waiting for Heather to sit down before gently pushing her towards the table. He took a seat next to her, taking a slow, steady breath in an attempt to calm his nerves.
"So, is there anything in particular I need to know before she gets here?" Heather leaned in closer to him with a slight smile on her face. "Any hot button issues to avoid? Is she gonna try to stab me with a fork or anything?"
"Phyllis isn't like that." The words left his lips in a sort of reminiscent blissfulness.
Her face grew serious—she hadn't missed his sudden change in tone and demeanor and he didn't miss her reaction. "I just mean..it's not like Phyllis is holding some kind of torch for me. We're here to meet the new guy in her life. That should make it pretty clear that she's not…"
The words faded as his eyes fell on her. She walked into the room, standing close—too close—beside him. His arm wrapped low around her waist, his hand pressed against the small of her back. She wore a black dress, one he hadn't seen before. It hugged her body in all the right places and she walked as if she knew it.
Billy remembered all too well what it was like to walk into a room beside her, to watch heads turn and mouths drop and to know that no matter what, she was coming home with you.
Except she wasn't. Not anymore.
It was this guy now and he couldn't even bother to hang up his phone to appreciate the moment.
His legs moved of their own volition. Going through the motions was nothing new for him. Heather stepped away from the table and out ahead of him, her perfected smile beaming.
"Hi," she said cheerfully, "It's so nice to finally get a chance to sit down with you and talk." She extended her hand and Billy watched nervously as Phyllis flashed a polite smile and shook her hand. He watched her eyes drift over to his for just a moment, a surge of heat rippling through him. She still got to him. She probably always would.
"Likewise," she whispered, walking over to their table as she glanced behind her over to the man who stood next to her. Billy watched in slight amusement as her eyes narrowed. He knew that look—the furrowed brow, the pursed lips, the tightened jaw—she was irritated, and for once, it wasn't with him.
Mark seemed to notice. "Just handle it alright? I'm gonna have to call you back." Mark huffed as he ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. He flashed an apologetic smile at Phyllis before stepping in front of her and sticking out his hand. "Mark McMillan."
He leaned forward, taking Heather's hand and pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. Turning his gaze towards Billy, he shook his hand and smiled. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Wish I could say the same," Billy said quietly, his polite tone just barely covering the snark in his remark.
"Billy-" Phyllis warned, stepping up beside mark, her eyes still glaring at him.
"No disrespect intended." Billy smiled, holding up his hands in surrender. "I only meant that I haven't heard much about Mr. McMillan here and I'm looking forward to getting to know him better. That's all."
Phyllis sighed. "Great." She glanced back at Mark, then over at Heather before stepping over to the table and pulling out her own chair. "Shall we?"
"Can't someone else take care of it?" Billy glanced back at the table from the small corridor where he and Heather stood. "This is really important and I'd appreciate it if you'd stay and help me out here."
"Billy, I wish I could, but I really have to go. If anyone else could handle it, I'd pass it off. I would, I swear, but I spent weeks setting up this shoot and Marah is a fantastic assistant. For her to call and say she needs me to come, it must be a serious disaster."
"You want to see a serious disaster, just stick around here for a few more minutes. I swear if he picks that phone up again, she's gonna shove it so far up his…"
As if on cue Heather's phone sounded again. She breathed, flashing sad eyes at him. "I'm really sorry, but I have to go." She stepped back over to the table where Phyllis looked up, happy to see them return.
"Everything alright?" Phyllis asked.
Billy looked over at Mark, who now had turned his body away from the conversation entirely as he spoke into his phone in hushed tones.
"Well," he muttered, "it looks like we've both chosen people with very demanding jobs."
Billy took a seat as Heather reached for her purse.
"I'm really sorry," she whispered as she leaned down and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. She looked over at Phyllis. "It's a work thing that I have to take care of. I hope we can do this another time."
Phyllis nodded as she watched her walk away. She looked across the table at Billy's face which told the whole story. "It's okay you know." She smiled awkwardly at him. "You don't have to stay. It's not like you're going to be missing out on some scintillating conversation."
His eyes softened. He could be selfish and, leave it to Phyllis, to call him out and make him feel bad and not the least bit defensive.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's not like your night is going that great either, huh?"
"It's not always like this. He's just got a lot going on right now. A lot of deals up in the air." She drew in a long breath. Every word she said was a much for her own comfort as it was to convince him.
"Right." He couldn't stop staring at her. It wasn't as if he expected tonight to be easy. He knew watching her with someone else would be hard, but if she'd seemed happy—truly happy—he thought he could be happy for her.
This was not happy. Sitting here, he watched her—watched her eyes mainly. It was a conscious effort on her part to avoid eye contact with him. Instead she seemed transfixed on the couples as they spun around the dance floor. She smiled slightly as pair after pair drifted past their table, the music floating through the room. Phyllis loved dancing and instead of holding her close to him and showing her off for all the world to see, this idiot was sitting there on his phone.
"Come on." He stood quickly, holding out his hand towards her. He had to take advantage of this brief moment of honest interaction. Giving himself time to think, to question his intentions would only further complicate matters.
"Billy." She looked over at Mark, how hadn't even looked up from his phone long enough to notice they were missing a dinner guest. Her head tilted towards him, her shoulders shrugging sadly, "I can't. I mean.."
"I'm sure he won't mind." He could see her hesitation, the look in her eyes that meant she was talking herself out of it.
"You don't mind, do you Mark? Mark?!" He repeated his name louder the second time.
"Excuse me a moment," Mark said into the phone, his tone terse. He smiled politely as he glanced up at Billy, "I'm sorry, what?"
"You don't mind if I borrow Phyllis for a dance, right?"
"No..No..of course not.." He turned back to the phone, not even looking back at her. "No, damn it. That wasn't the deal." He stood, holding the phone to his ear as he walked towards a more quiet area of the restaurant.
"See," Billy grinned. "He's fine with it."
Phyllis sighed, her resolve weakening as she watched him flash her a most disarming grin.
"You don't want to waste a dress like that just sitting at a table." His smile widened as he watched the corners of her lips twitch as her eyes sparkled up at him. She slowly stood, placing her small hand in his.
"I'm flattered you noticed," she whispered.
"You knew I'd notice." He moved with confidence, aptly finding the least populated corner of the dance floor. They were comfortable with each other—always had been. Even now, even when they were seemingly with other people, there was no problem falling back into the old pattern.
Her body fit perfectly against his, her head reaching his shoulder as if she'd been molded to fit perfectly in his arms. His hand found its spot on the small of her back, the warmth of his touch against her bare flesh sending a chill through her that made her tremble all over.
He felt her shake and he pulled her tighter against him, her warm, heavy breath tickling the sensitive skin behind his ear.
She drew in a breath, forcing herself to speak. "This is nice," she whispered, leaning back a bit to look into his eyes.
"Yeah it is." He watched as she smiled shyly at him, looking away when the eye contact became too much.
"What?" she asked as he laughed softly.
"Nothing," he smiled, "It's just..Aly..she does that same little smile—the one you just did. She does it all the time." He paused, his eyes staring into hers as his hand reached up to softly caress her face. "She reminds me so much of you."
"She's got your sense of humor," Phyllis replied, bringing her hand up to find his and slowly sliding it down to rest on her shoulder. She allowed her hand to rest there on top of his as she continued, "And your charm…and your eyes." Her voice trailed off.
"She's beautiful…just like her Mom." The words were whispered, breathy and, were it not for their close contact, she never would have been able to hear him.
Phyllis felt his breath against her cheek as she saw his lips coming closer to her. She felt her eyes closing—an almost involuntary response.
The change in music startled her and her eyes flew open as a sharp intake of breath flooded her body. "I can't. I can't do this." She stepped away, pressing her hands gently against his chest and putting space between them. She blinked hard, looking up at him and then away again. "I'm sorry. I just…I can't be here."
And with that, she was gone.
She walked into the living room, closing the door before allowing the tears to fall. She loved her daughter with all her heart, but she was grateful she was staying with a friend tonight. At four years old, Aly was incredibly insightful and she'd pick up on the fact that she was upset in seconds. Children shouldn't have to comfort their parents.
Phyllis walked slowly over to the couch. She'd done this before. She knew how this worked. Feelings didn't go away overnight and she never expected they would, but it was supposed to get easier—little by little—bit by bit…not harder. It shouldn't get harder to see him, to think about him, to be around him. Moments like tonight shouldn't keep happening over and over again. It made her question everything—how she felt, what she wanted, if she made a mistake.
Was it a mistake?
"Phyllis! Phyllis! Would you wait a minute? Please! Would you just listen to me?"
She turned to face him, her eyes wet with tears—tears of embarrassment, tears of pain, tears of anger. "Tell me that he was lying, Billy. Tell me that he's a drunk or that he's old and senile or that he's some sadistic old prick that's just trying to make trouble. Tell me that, Billy. Please tell me that!"
He closed his eyes. "Just let me explain."
Her hand clasped tight around her mouth, the wail almost primal as it echoed through the room. "How could you do it?"
"I did it for you."
She whirled around, sheer rage flashing in her eyes. "Don't you do that. Don't you try and blame this on me. I never asked you to do this. I would never ask you to do this. Why in God's name would you ever even think I would want to get a job this way?"
"It's not about that." He reached out to touch her, sighing as she jerked away. "Would you just sit down and let me talk to you. Just let me explain."
"Fine." She sat, staring at him, her face stern, her eyes still flashing in anger and pain. "Talk."
"You deserved that job. You know it and I know it, but it's a good old boys club….that's the way the company has always been and they were never gonna give the job to a woman…no matter how good you were, no matter how qualified you were." He shook his head as he watched her face. "When they first mentioned it, I thought it was a joke. I thought they were kidding and when I realized they weren't…when I realized they would really give you the job….I just…" He stopped, looking into her eyes.
"You deserved that job."
"Do you have any idea what it felt like to have that idiot announce to the entire team tonight that you won my position in a poker game, Billy? Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to find out that you are so pathetic that your husband has to gamble to get you a position in a company?"
"You're not pathetic, Phyllis. No one there thinks you're pathetic. You're turned that entire division around. Everyone there thinks so. Darren is an asshole. He was just doing what he always does."
"He was telling the truth which is more than I can say for you."
"Phyllis." He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what else to say. I just knew you deserved it."
"My God!" She screamed as she stood up and stared at him. "Do you honestly think that's what this is about? Do you think I'm this upset about a stupid job?" She sat back down, grabbing his hands in hers as she stared at him. "You made decisions about my life for me. You lied to me for over a year. You kept information from me. You gambled—even if it was just one game. We're supposed to be a team. We're supposed to tell each other the truth…all the time. No secrets. That was the deal, remember?"
"Of course I remember, but I knew this would hurt you and I didn't see the need to upset when.."
"I am so damn tired of people thinking they know what I need better than I do. You don't get to decide if I can handle information or not. You don't get to decide what version of the story I get. I get the truth, the whole truth—all the time. No exceptions. I don't want to be protected. I don't want a guard dog. I want a husband. I want a partner."
"Okay." He held her hands tight in his. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I won't even keep anything from you again. Total honesty. Cards all out on the table—from now on…no exceptions. Promise. Okay?" He watched as she stared at him, her face unchanged. "Phyllis? We are okay, right?"
She filled the glass with wine, leaning back against the couch as she took a long drink. She'd never really forgiven him for that. Every little thing circled back to the same argument until one day, she simply stopped trying. She resented his constant need to protect her—as if she wasn't capable of protecting herself. She didn't trust him. She didn't think she ever could again. And the more she pulled away, the tighter he held on. At the time, it made her crazy.
But tonight, as she danced in his arms, being held didn't feel so bad.