“What am I going to do about Tatianna?” Sasha asked her, looking serious again.

“Nothing. Just let her cool down. She obviously felt you betrayed her father. You know how crazy she was about him. She thought he walked on water. He was a wonderful man, but let's face it, Sasha, he's gone, sad as that is, and he isn't coming back. I have a feeling that he'd be relieved to know you're happy, if you are. He was one of the nicest men I've ever met. I don't think he'd want you to be alone. Tatianna just has to grow up, and get over it. Give her some space for a while, she will. She can't fight this battle forever.” Although Sasha knew she could be stubborn, and her loyalty to her father could be blind, fierce, and unlimited. It had been in her teens. And now that he was gone, she loved him even more. It was her way of holding on to him. But giving her space was not a bad idea.

“I've left her a million messages. She won't return or take my calls.”

“Then leave her alone. She may be embarrassed about what she said. She should be. How did Liam survive the ordeal?”

“Very graciously,” Sasha said. “He was very understanding about it. She called Xavier, and he called us on Sunday morning. He was incredibly sweet to both of us. He loves Liam, they're friends, which is how I met him in the first place. He's been trying to calm Tatianna down. Xavier, not Liam. Liam is scared to death of her now, which is going to complicate things even more. It must have been a hell of a shock to him.”

“Make nice on him, he'll be fine.” Half an hour later, after they'd finished talking, he walked into her office, and when Marcie saw him pass her desk, she looked up and smiled. She wanted him to at least feel welcome there. He'd had a tough weekend.

“Hi, Liam,” Marcie said with a friendly wave. He returned the smile, looking grateful.

“Hello, Marcie,” he said, as he walked into Sasha's office and closed the door, with a worried look. “How did it go today?” he asked as he kissed her.

“Fine.” She didn't tell him about her talk with Marcie. That was girl talk, but it had reassured her a great deal.

“Did you hear from Tatianna?” He had worried about it all day, while he hung out with friends in Tribeca.

“No. I think I'll just let her cool off for a while.”

“Good idea.” He was impressed by how sensible Sasha was being. She looked like she had calmed down a lot since that morning. “I got baseball tickets for tonight. How does that sound?” He wanted to make her feel better, it was all he could think of to distract her.

“Wonderful.” She looked up at him and smiled. She would rather have gone to a movie, or had a quiet dinner somewhere with him, or even a noisy one at La Goulue, but she knew how much baseball meant to him, and she was happy to do it for him. After talking to Marcie, she was more grateful than ever to be with him, and to have him in her life.

At forty-nine, she knew from other women that there just weren't a lot of men out there for her. The options Marcie had described, or the lack of them, sounded comical, but they were real. Liam was wonderful and the proverbial needle in the haystack, and she was going to hang on to him whether her daughter liked it or not.





Chapter 15




Liam and Sasha spent the Fourth of July weekend in Southampton. It was blazing hot and sunny every day. They cooked, went out to dinner, lay on the beach, swam, and on the Fourth they were invited to a big party that night. It was a barbecue given by people she knew, but not well, and they both agreed it sounded like fun. She had accepted, and at six o'clock that night they went, in jeans and T-shirts and sandals, just as the invitation said. She had bought them both red, white, and blue bandanas, and they tied them around their necks. He smiled when he looked at her as they went out. He said he was the happiest he'd ever been.

“Now we look like twins,” he commented, which was funny. He was as fair as she was dark, he was tall, she was tiny, and she was beginning to forget about their age. Marcie and Xavier had both helped a lot, giving her their approval and support. She hadn't heard from Tatianna since their horrifying encounter in Southampton the week before. Sasha was still letting her cool off.

There were two hundred people at the party, long tables of food, a giant barbecue, line dancers to entertain everyone, and a tent filled with carnival games. Everyone was having a ball, and so were they.

They were sitting next to each other on a log, eating hamburgers and hot dogs, when Sasha realized for the first time that Liam was slightly drunk. Not disgustingly so, but just enough to be slightly out of control. Halfway through dinner, he said he was hot, took off his shirt, and threw it in the fire, with a grin at Sasha. The uncontrollable boy in him began to emerge, and as the night wore on, it got worse. Much worse. She tried to get him to go home with her, but he insisted he was having fun and wanted to stay. By then he was too drunk to notice she wasn't enjoying herself at all. He had started out with rum punch, switched to beer, and then wine with dinner. Afterward someone suggested he try a mojito, and she was horrified to watch him down three of them, without pausing for breath. By then, he was truly smashed. Worse yet, she wasn't. She was cold stone sober, and getting more upset by the minute, which he didn't notice either. He was having too much fun.

The line dancers came back on then, he leaped up to the dance floor and grabbed one of them, the youngest and the prettiest of course, and proceeded to do a sexy dancing act on the dance floor, while the girl he was dancing with got into it and unzipped his jeans. They did nothing more exotic after that, but that was enough for Sasha. She could see the looks of amusement and disapproval all around her, and when he walked back to her afterward, he zipped up his jeans, kissed her hard on the mouth in front of everyone, and grabbed her bottom in both hands, which left nothing to anyone's imagination as to what their relationship was. She had introduced him prior to that as one of her artists visiting from London.

“What's the matter, baby?” he asked her, looking bleary and slurring his words. She was ready to kill him, and all she wanted to do was leave. It hadn't been lost on her that the girl he'd been dancing with looked like she was in her teens, and was probably no more than twenty, younger than her daughter.

“I want to go home, Liam,” she said quietly. She didn't want to lose her temper with him, but she didn't want to stay either. He was out of control, and getting worse by the minute. He ordered a screwdriver then, and she took it away from the waiter when it came.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, trying to grab for it. But sensing what was happening, the waiter just put it back on the tray and disappeared.

“You've had a lot to drink already. I think it's time to go home.”

“You can't tell me what to do,” he said, lurching as he stood before her. He nearly fell into her arms, and then tried to get amorous again. She gave him a quelling look, but there was obviously no getting him to leave. He was having a ball. “I'm not your child,” he said, as he put an arm around her shoulders.

“Then don't act like one,” she said in an undertone.

He was behaving like a juvenile delinquent, or at the very least, a drunk.

“You can't control me,” he repeated, and she nodded, as people continued to glance at them and then look away. She heard one man comment that Liam was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, while another laughed. She knew them both. They were friends of Arthur's, which didn't help.

“Liam, I'm tired, I want to go home,” she said, pleading with him.

“Then take a nap. You can wait in the car. I want to party. I'm having a hell of a good time.” He lurched forward again and, much to her horror, disappeared into the crowd. She found him again, sitting astride the horse they were using to pull the hayride. The horse was getting skittish, and the handler was asking him to get off, to no avail. He had completely stopped the ride, as people around them watched. It finally took three men from the catering staff and the host to get him off. He had been shouting “Yippee-kie-yay!!!” while kicking the horse. She wanted to kill him.

Their host helped her get him back to the car. He passed out in the front seat, and she drove him home. She couldn't wake him up when they got there, and she left him to sleep it off in her car. She felt him slip into bed with her at seven o'clock the next morning. When she got up at nine, he was dead to the world. He didn't come downstairs till noon, wearing dark glasses and complaining about how bright the sun was. She said nothing as she sat in the kitchen and read the paper, while he poured himself a much-needed cup of coffee. He came to sit down next to her a few minutes later, and she finally looked up and said good morning. Her tone was like ice.

“That was quite a party last night,” he said, trying to sound casual as she stared at him. “I guess I had a lot to drink, judging by the size of my hangover today.” He laughed. She didn't.

“Yes, you did” was all she said.

“How bad was it?” he asked cautiously. He didn't remember a great deal about the night before. She did.

“Very bad,” she answered, listing his exploits. Among them, she mentioned his grabbing her behind, which had blown their cover forever among her acquaintances and friends. “My favorite, of course, was the incident with the horse. You looked absolutely charming, scaring the horse and the children, playing cowboy and shouting 'Yippee-kie-yay.' I think everyone from here to Chicago heard you.” She was not amused, nor was he. He didn't want to be treated like a child, or scolded by her. He was an adult, and could behave any way he wanted, or so he said. He told Sasha he'd been behaving sensibly for a long time. He needed to let some steam off.