Danielle Steel - Rogue

“How was Thanksgiving with your parents?” He used to feel stifled at those Thanksgivings, and yet in a funny way he loved them too. They were what every family should be, and so few were. He hadn't had a holiday like that in five years.

“It was nice. They love the kids, and they're so sweet. They're both in remarkably good shape for their age. My father is still operating, though not as much, and teaching and practicing full time, at seventy-nine.”

“You will be too,” Blake said, as he poured champagne into two glasses and handed her one. He always drank Cristal. She took it and sipped it, admiring the view from his apartment. It was like flying over the city. Everything he owned or touched had that magical quality to it. He was what people dreamed of being if they hit it big, but very few people had Blake's style and ability to pull it off.

She was surprised he didn't have a woman with him this time, and a few minutes later, he explained it with a rueful smile. “I just got dumped,” he said, by a twenty-four-year-old supermodel, who had run off with a major rock star, who Blake said had a bigger plane. Maxine couldn't help laughing at the way he said it. He didn't seem upset, and she knew he wasn't. The girls he went out with were just playmates for him. He had no desire whatsoever to settle down, and didn't want more kids, so eventually the young women he went out with had to marry someone else. Marriage with him was never an option, and the farthest thing from his mind. As they sat in his living room and chatted, Sam wandered in, and hopped up on his mother's lap. He sat watching Blake with interest, as though he were a family friend and not his father, and then inquired about the girlfriend he'd had with him the previous summer. Blake looked at him and laughed.

“You've missed two since then, champ. I was just telling your mom. I got dumped last week. So it's just me this time.” Sam nodded at the explanation, and glanced at his mother.

“Mom doesn't have a boyfriend either. She never goes out. She has us.”

“She should go out,” Blake said, smiling at both of them. “She's a very beautiful woman, and one of these days you guys are going to grow up.” It was exactly what Maxine's father had said that day after lunch. She had another twelve years until Sam left for college. She was in no hurry, despite everyone else's concerns. He asked Sam about school then, not knowing what else to say, and Sam told his father he had been the turkey in the school play. Maxine had emailed Blake the pictures of it, as she always did of important events. She had sent a slew of them to him of Jack at his soccer games.

The children wandered in and out, chatting easily with their parents, and getting used to Blake again. Daphne looked at him with open adoration, and when she left the room, Maxine told him about the incident with the beer, just so he was aware of it, and didn't let it happen when Daphne was with him.

“Come on, Max,” he chided her gently, “don't be so uptight. She's just a kid. Don't you think restriction for a month is a little over the top? She's not going to turn into an alcoholic from two beers.” It was the kind of reaction she expected from him, and not one she liked. But she wasn't surprised. It was one of the many differences between them. Blake didn't believe in rules, for anyone, and least of all himself.

“No, she isn't,” Maxine said quietly. “But if I let them have beer parties now, at thirteen, where are we going to be at sixteen or seventeen? Crack parties when I'm out seeing patients, or heroin? She's got to have limits, and respect for boundaries, or we're going to be in deep shit in a few years. I'd rather put the brakes on now.”

“I know,” he sighed, the blue eyes looking brighter than ever as he glanced at her sheepishly. He looked like a boy who had just been scolded by his mother or teacher. It was a role Maxine didn't like, but had had with him for years. She was used to it by now. “You're probably right. It just doesn't seem like such a big deal to me. I did a lot worse at her age. I was stealing scotch out of my father's bar at twelve, and selling it in school for a hell of a profit.” He laughed and so did Max.

“That's different. That's business. You were an entrepreneur at that age, not a drunk. I'll bet you weren't drinking it.” He was not an excessive drinker as a rule, and had never done drugs. He was just wild in every other way. Blake was allergic to boundaries of any kind.

“You're right.” Blake laughed harder at the memory. “I didn't do that till I was fourteen. I was more interested in staying sober and getting the girls drunk that I went out with. That seemed like a much better plan to me.”

Max shook her head, laughing at him. “Why is it I think that hasn't changed?”

“I don't need to get them drunk anymore,” he confessed with a shameless grin. They had the strangest relationship, like great friends, more than people who had been married for ten years and had three children. He was like the crazy pal she saw two or three times a year, while she was the responsible one, bringing up children and going to work every day. They were night and day.

Dinner arrived promptly at nine o'clock, and everyone was hungry by then. He had ordered it from the best Japanese restaurant in the city, and it was prepared in front of them, with all kinds of flourishes and exotic touches, and a chef who flamed everything, chopped up the shrimp and flipped it in the air and caught it in his pocket. The kids loved it. Everything Blake did or organized was spectacular and different. Even Sam was looking relaxed and happy by the time she left. It was nearly midnight by then, and the kids were watching a movie in the projection room. She knew they'd be up till two or three A.M. It wouldn't do them any harm, she didn't begrudge them a minute of their time with him. They could sleep when they came home to her.

“When are you leaving?” she asked him as she put her coat on, afraid that he would say “tomorrow,” which she knew would upset the kids. They wanted at least a few days with him, particularly not knowing when they would see him again, although Christmas was coming, and he usually managed to spend some time with them during the holidays.

“Not till Sunday,” he said, and noticed the look of relief on her face.

“That's good,” she said softly. “They hate it when you leave.”

“Me too,” he said almost sadly. “If it's okay with you, I want to take them to Aspen after Christmas. I don't have any firm plans yet, but it's a nice time to be there, over New Year's.”

“They'll love it.” She smiled at him. She always missed them when they went away with him, but she wanted them to have a father, and it wasn't easy to manage with him. You had to catch him when he was willing, and able to make plans with them.

“Do you want to have dinner with us tomorrow night?” he offered, as he walked her to the elevator. He still enjoyed spending time with her, he always had. He would have stayed married to her forever. It was Maxine who had wanted out, and he didn't blame her. And he'd had a good time since then. But he loved still having her in his life, and was glad she had never shut him out. He wondered if that would change when she found a serious man, and he never doubted that she would one day. He was surprised it had taken this long.

“I might,” she said, looking relaxed. “See how it goes with the kids. I don't want to intrude.” They needed time alone with their father, and she didn't want to interfere with them.

“We love having you along,” he assured her, and then hugged her goodbye.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as she got on the elevator, and waved at him as the doors closed. The elevator shot down fifty floors, and her ears popped as she stood there thinking about him. It was strange. Nothing had changed. She still loved him. She always had. She had never stopped loving him. She just didn't want to be with him anymore. It didn't even bother her that he went out with girls in their twenties. It was hard to define their relationship. But whatever it was, and however strange, it worked for both of them.

The doorman hailed her a cab as she came out of the building. As she rode uptown to her own apartment, she thought about what a nice day it had been. It was strange to find it silent and dark when she walked in. She turned on the lights, walked into her bedroom, and thought of Blake and her children in his insanely luxurious apartment. The one she lived in looked better to her than ever. There was no part of his life that she still wanted. She had no need for that kind of excess and self-indulgence. She was happy for him, but what she had was all she wanted.

For the thousandth time since she left him, she knew she had made the right decision. Blake Williams was every woman's dream, but no longer hers.

Maxine was sound asleep at four A.M. when the phone rang at her bedside. It took longer than usual to wake her up, as she had been sleeping deeply. She often fell into a deeper sleep when her children weren't around. As she glanced at the clock, she hoped that nothing had gone wrong at Blake's apartment. She wondered if Sam had had a nightmare and wanted to come home. She answered the phone automatically, before fully waking up and without thinking.

“Dr. Williams,” she said briskly, to mask the fact that she'd been sound asleep, although who would have expected her to be otherwise at four A.M.?

“Maxine, I'm sorry to call you at this hour.” It was Thelma Washington, the doctor on call for her over the Thanksgiving holiday and weekend. “I'm at New York Hospital with the Andersons. I thought you'd want me to call. Hilary overdosed last night. They found her at two A.M.” She was a bipolar fifteen-year-old with a heroin problem, who had attempted suicide four times in the past two years. Maxine was instantly awake. “We got her in as fast as we could. The paramedics administered naloxone, but it's not looking good.”