"You're still here?" Lauren poked her head into Phyllis' office. "I thought you'd have headed out by now. What are you working on? Is there a problem with the app?"
Phyllis sighed. "No. It's nothing like that. I've just not had the most productive day, that's all."
Lauren tilted to the side a bit, hesitating, waiting for her friend to continue. "Anything you need to talk about?" she prodded.
She lifted her head. Lauren already had her coat on, her briefcase tucked snug under her arm. She didn't need to hear her problems. "No," she sighed. "I'm fine. You go. I won't be long."
"Only if you promise you're not going to be here burning the midnight oil."
Phyllis nodded. "Promise." She kept the smile plastered on her face until Lauren disappeared from her view.
The last thing she wanted to do was spend her night at the office. It was hard enough to keep the thoughts of him out of her mind. She replayed the moment over and over again. She could see him standing by the desk, she could hear his deep, warm voice as she walked down the hall, and she didn't even go into the lounge anymore. She couldn't.
He had moved on, regardless of how it had turned out. He had made that choice. He had found someone else. She had to do the same. She had to try. Mark was good for her. He was different and that was precisely what she needed—something new, something different, something completely unlike anything she'd ever had before.
Phyllis closed her laptop, drawing in a deep breath as she placed her hands flat on the desk in front of her. Yes, she thought to herself, she would commit to this relationship, to giving it an honest try—and that all started with tonight.
Phyllis paced around the room nervously, holding the phone to her ear. "And you're sure everything's okay?" She smiled as she listened to the voice on the other line. In the background she could hear Aly's musical laughter. "Well- It certainly sounds like she's having a great time. Alright then—Of course. I'll give you a call tomorrow afternoon to see when I should pick her up. Give me a call if anything comes up." She placed the phone on the dresser and turned around, making a few final touches to the spread across the table.
She'd gone by two different gourmet shops and three different bakeries to get all of Mark's favorites. Tonight needed to be special. She'd even managed to find a bottle of his favorite wine. After talking to his secretary, and learning he didn't have any late meetings tonight, she knew it almost had to be a sign and she'd thrown her into the elaborate preparations. All that was left to do now was wait on him to arrive.
He never liked fighting with her, no matter what it was about. It didn't matter if he was in the right or not, seeing her upset was never something that seemed worth it. Sometimes he wondered if he should have fought her more when it came to the divorce—if the fact that he gave in too easily made her think he didn't care. He supposed it didn't matter much now.
Their divorce had been an amicable one, with him going along with anything and everything she wanted—except for one thing.
Billy sat down on the couch as he looked around the empty living room. Somehow it seemed even bigger now and far, far more quiet. Too quiet. He never wanted this house.
He stared at her across the mahogany table.
"Maybe we should get lawyers, Billy. We can do that if it will make things easier." Phyllis looked at him for a moment, her eyes more sad than angry.
"Is that what you want?" He wanted to hear her say no—to say that none of this was what she wanted. He prayed that she'd come to her senses and realize that all of this was just a rash reaction to his stupid decision.
"Billy," she breathed. "You know I don't want to bring lawyers into this, and I didn't think we needed to. I mean we can agree on Aly. She's the most important thing. The house shouldn't be a big deal."
"It's our house, Phyllis. It'll always be our house."
"No, it won't." He could see the tears in her eyes. His hand twitched, almost involuntarily reaching out to touch hers, but that wasn't his place anymore. "It's not ours anymore. The only thing that's ours is our daughter."
"Then live there with her—let it be her house."
"I can't, Billy. I can't be in that house day in and day out. I can't live with those memories every single day. Don't you get that? We can sell it. If you want, we can put the money in a trust for Aly, or we can split the money and both use it for our separate expenses….whatever you want."
He felt a lump rise in his throat and he swallowed hard in an attempt to be able to speak. "You want to sell it?"
"It's the only thing the makes sense."
"You want other people to live in the house we built for us? For our family?" He shook his head, unwilling to even consider it. "What if I live there? What if I live in the house?"
Billy stood up, walking over the mantle, his eyes staring that the abstract piece of art that now hung over the fireplace. It was something Heather had chosen—one of the first things they'd changed when she'd moved in.
It replaced the family photo, the one they'd had taken when Aly had just turned 2. He could still see it in his mind, just as vivid as it would be if it still hung there today. Billy took a deep breath, turning and grabbing his coat. Tonight, forgetting was proving to be a stubborn problem.
"I'm really sorry you went through all this trouble, sweetie."
"Mark, I called your office. Your secretary said you didn't have any meetings tonight." Phyllis followed him out of the room as he walked over to the coat closet to choose a different jacket.
Mark sighed. "I know—She can't keep anything straight. I'm going to have to replace her." He shook his head.
"Can't you just put it off—just for one night? I've got all this food here? I got all your favorites?" She reached out to touch him, turning him to face her. "Please, Mark. I don't ask for much."
He saw the look in her eyes and for a moment, he felt a twinge of guilt. "Tell you what," he said, softening his voice a bit, "I'll call and see if I can make the meeting a little later, okay?" He flashed a smile at her, stepping out the room quickly.
Phyllis stood, waiting, hearing his hushed voice as he made the call. Her eyebrows raised as he entered. "Well?"
"I've got thirty minutes," he said smiling.
"Thirty minutes?" Her face fell as she looked at him, stunned he thought this would pacify her. "That's what I get? Thirty minutes?"
"Sweetie…this is a really important meeting. Thirty minutes is the best I can do tonight."
"Okay," she relented. "I just…I was hoping to talk to you..it's important."
Mark sat down, quickly opening the wine and pouring two glasses. He reached out for some food before sitting down and placing a glass in front of her plate. "So sit down," he smiled, gesturing to the empty chair, "and talk."
"I was just thinking about us and about our relationship."
"That sound ominous," he grinned, "I'm not getting the brush off here, am I?"
"No. Nothing like that—actually the opposite of that. I was wondering what you were thinking about future plans…you know if you ever thought about us maybe…getting married?"
The breath left his lips in a quick spurt. "Married?" he laughed. "Sure it's something I think about and yes I'd love to do that, but it's not the right time of course…?"
"Not the right time?" She paused a minute, looking at him with confused eyes. "Why isn't it the right time? I mean if we want to having a life together and maybe have a family…"
"A family?" Mark's eyebrows raised sharply. "You want a family now, too? You already have a kid. Why do need another?"
"Uh..I thought we could have a child together…" She leaned back in her chair, trying not to be hurt by his tone. "You don't want to have children?"
"I'm not saying never, but I certainly don't have time for that right now. I don't have time for anything right now. With business the way it is, I can't even think about a wedding, much less kids." Mark shrugged, not quite sure how these wouldn't be obvious concepts.
"So you're saying you wouldn't even consider putting your career on the backburner for us..for a family?" Her eyes welled up with tears. His words were hurtful, but in truth, not necessarily surprising. She'd known this for a while now, but somehow she'd been able to deny the truth. She'd been denying the truth about a lot of things.
He reached out, grabbing a few crackers in his hand before standing up and walking over to her. "Look," he said, touching her face gently, "I'm not trying to hurt you, but I've built my business from the ground up and it's important to me. You know about that. I know how important your work is to you."
"It's not as important as my family," she managed, the tears now escaping and making their way down her cheeks.
Mark sighed, glancing down at his watch.
"Did you just check your watch?!" She stood up, furious, pacing across the room. "You really don't give a damn how I feel, do you?"
"Don't say it like that! You know I have a meeting…I told you that! I can't be standing here wasting time trying to soothe your hurt feelings. I don't have time for that."
Phyllis stood still for a moment, forcing her heartbeat to slow, calming her breathing. "You know what—you're right. You don't have time for me. You never have." She pushed past him, grabbing her coat off the back of the chair and storming out the door.
The smoke was thick as she entered the room. This was no Athletic Club. She'd thought about going to the Underground, but she didn't want to take the chance of running into Nick. Well meaning though he may be, she wasn't interested in advice from her ex tonight. Tonight she needed to just forget about everyone and everything for a little while.
Her eyes fell on the empty bar stood and she took a seat, feeling oddly comfortable among the sea of chaos and desperation that sat along side her.
"What'll it be?" the bartender asked, eyeing her incredulously.
"Scotch," she said, without any thought. She rolled he eyes as soon as the word fell from her lips. She couldn't even get drunk without thinking of him.
"Let me get that for you," the clearly inebriated man behind her said. He looked up at the bartender. "Put that on my tab."
"I can pay for my own drinks," Phyllis said quietly, glancing over at him. "But thank you."
He held up his hands. "No offense," he said with a smile. "Is this seat taken?"
"No," she said with a sigh. "It's all yours if you want it."
The man climbed up on the stool, looking at her for a long moment before choosing his words again. "Don't take this the wrong way," he began, "But you don't really look like the type that normally comes in here."
Phyllis smiled slightly as she took a drink from her glass. "Yeah, you're right. I'm not really one of your regulars. Tonight was a special occasion."
He raised his eyebrows, now quite curious. "Really? What've you got going on? We get a lot of anniversaries, lot of divorces…what's your story?"
"None of the above," she sighed. "More of a culmination of epic fails."
"Oh come on…It can't be that bad. Anyone that looks like you can't be having problems of the heart."
She laughed, taking another drink and emptying the glass. "I'm gonna need another," she said, watching as the bartender filled the glass. "You'd be surprised," she sighed.
"Tell me about it."
She shook her head. "No point in depressing you too."
"Ah, come on. You don't know me and I don't know you. You might as well talk to somebody. Who knows, it might actually help."
Phyllis sighed. It couldn't hurt. "Well, tonight I realized that I'm in a relationship that's going absolutely nowhere."
He nodded in sympathy. "Yeah, that sucks. I've been there a few times myself."
She leaned a little closer, beginning to feel the effects of the scotch. "But you know what the crazy thing is?" She waited for him to shake his head. "I never thought it was going anywhere," she whispered. "I know it was completely dead end…and that's the way I wanted it. I needed it to be nothing because I couldn't feel anything."
"Wait a minute? So why are you upset if you knew?"
She laughed, leaning back and almost losing her balance. She felt his hand on her back and whispered a thank you. "It's just like that," she said, looking at him, her eyes suddenly sad. "It's the little stuff like that—I can't forget it. He touches me and I can't forget it. He looks at me and I can't forget. I try to move on and I can't. I tell myself that I have to let it go but I can't."
"You talking about this guy you just broke up with?"
"Noooo…it's not about him. It never was—that's the problem. It was never about him. He was just a distraction."
"So, who exactly are you talking about?" The man studied her face as the bartender refilled her drink.
Phyllis gulped the contents in one quick drink, turning to look at him before she answered.
"I think I'd like to hear that answer myself."
Phyllis stilled, slowly lowering the empty glass to the bar. She turned, knowing without even looking the identity of the man behind her. She'd know his voice anywhere. "Billy," she breathed, "What are you doing here?"