“The other one, too,” I said, flipping my other wrist to show her the cross that adorned the other wrist.
She laughed even as she reached over to touch it with her other hand. Her left hand. That’s when I saw her wedding ring and the impressive diamond engagement ring that went with it. I lifted her hand, my thumb rubbing against the jewel.
“You got married.”
“Yes. Ten years ago.”
“Is he good to you?”
She nodded. “He works on Wall Street. We live pretty well.”
“Good. You deserve the best.”
“What about you? Did you ever get married?”
I shook my head even as I continued to stare at her ring. Why did it bother me so much that a girl I hung around with sixteen years ago was married? But, somehow, it did.
“Did you become a teacher?”
I looked up, a little ache awakening in my chest. “No.”
“Why not?”
I let go of her hand and picked up my wine glass, taking a long swig as I formulated my answer. “I was close. I was just a few months short of earning my master’s degree. But then my father got sick and things just fell apart in a matter of weeks.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrugged, pretending that it no longer mattered. But it did. There was still that little bit of resentment that hung on all these years, hating my father, my brother, my sense of responsibility, and the circumstances that took my dreams from me. As much as I wanted to get past it, it still lingered just like the memories of the summer I spent with Julia lingered.
“It was cancer. He died less than four months after they found it. And my brother…he was not prepared to take control of the business. But someone had to. My mom and sister needed someone to take care of them.”
“So, you stepped up.”
There was admiration in her tone. I looked at her, the desire to kiss her almost overwhelming. I took another long swallow of wine, feeling the heat of the alcohol finally having an effect.
The waiter arrived with Julia’s salad, promising our entrees would be out in a few minutes. I watched her eat for a minute, remembering how we met. My friends and I had only been in town for a few days when we wandered into this late night deli. We were drunk and acting a little more obnoxious than necessary. And she was the put-upon waitress who had to deal with us. She ended up joining us, sitting on my lap while I fed her little pieces of my bagel. The taste of cream cheese still makes me think of the taste of her kiss.
“Are you happy?” she suddenly asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve taken my father’s little furniture business and built it into a pretty impressive corporation that sells everything from end tables to furniture polish to woodworking tools.”
“Really?”
“Ashland-Philips Corp.? I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s you? My husband was just talking about that company the other day. That’s you?”
“That’s me. And my sister. She helps run it these days.”
“Cool that you get to work with family.”
I nodded. It was the only bright spot about it.
Silence fell between us as we once again began to study each other. I could see the fine wrinkles at the corner of her eyes now, the slight sag to the skin under her chin. But I would forever remember her as that beautiful girl with the tight, sexy skin I caressed and admired day in and day out over that all too short summer.
“Do you have kids?” I asked to distract myself from my thoughts.
“Two with my husband.”
“Two? Boys or girls?”
“Two girls. The other was a boy, by the way. I wasn’t sure you would want to know, after what the lawyer said, but he was a beautiful little boy.”
There was a sadness in her eyes as she spoke. I had no idea what she was talking about, but the way she said it made a chill run down my spine.
“Who was a boy?”
“The baby,” she said, looking up at me with tears in those perfect blue eyes. She kind of laughed as she reached up and brushed a tear away. “Sorry. Every time I think I’m over it…I think it’s just seeing you again.”
I shook my head even as another chill joined the first and settled in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I said slowly, “but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A twist of confusion filled her expression. She opened her mouth to speak, but the waiter chose that moment to arrive with our entrees—shrimp scampi for me and chicken parmesan for her. It smelled amazing, but my stomach was suddenly so twisted into knots that I wasn’t sure I could take a single bite.
“I tried calling you. Over and over, I called. But they always said you weren’t available.”
“Who said?”
Julia frowned as she stared down at her plate, her fork tearing at the breading on her chicken. “I don’t know. Whoever answered the phone at the number you gave me.”
I tried to remember what number I gave her. The one at the dorms, probably. Or the house? I couldn’t quite remember.
“Why would someone say that?”