“Yeah, but their parents were there. I was basically in charge of food! I wasn’t in charge of kissing boo-boos or shutting down tantrums or delivering bedtime stories. What if he has a rough time being away? What if he gets cut or burnt on set or gets sick—kids get sick! What if he throws up? I can’t handle the throwing up, Shawn, you know that . . .”
“Breathe, sweet girl, breathe. Look, you are strong and smart and kind and that kid loves you and trusts you. He will feel safe and you will be a rock star. And if something goes wrong, your natural instincts will kick in. What is the absolute worst thing that can happen? He’ll throw up, and you’ll sympathetically throw up, and the two of you will have a little vomit party, and then it will be one of those epic hilarious stories that the family will tell for years to come. It’s New York. You aren’t going to a third-world country. If something serious happens, one of his parents will jump on a plane and be there in a matter of hours.”
“Vomit party?”
He smiles at me.
“You don’t have to be a mother to be maternal. You just have to love him. Everything else will work itself out.”
“I guess.”
“I know. You are a natural nurturer, Eloise. You take care of people. You’d be a great mom, even a temporary surrogate one.”
“You think?”
“I know.” Then he grins wickedly at me. “After all, Lawrence is counting on our café au lait babies for him to give terrible names!” Lawrence does continue to tease with both of us on the child front, and Shawn and I have embraced it as one of our inside jokes.
I can’t help but laugh. “Oh, really? How many of these babies are we talking about?”
“Five!” He pauses. “Or maybe even just one?”
I look into his face, and see that while we are joking, a part of him isn’t really joking.
“Maybe one. To start,” I say, not even believing the words coming out of my mouth.
“Maybe one, then. To start.” He leans forward and kisses me deeply.
“I suppose then I should say yes and practice a little on Ian, huh?”
“Better to screw up with someone else’s kid, is what I’m thinking.”
I swat his arm. “You’d really want to take care of Simca?”
“I love that pup. If it will get you to do something that is good for you, I will happily take care of Simca, I will go over and make Lawrence’s lunches, I’ll fight off advances from your horny aunt, and I’ll come visit you every weekend so that you remember who loves you and you don’t fall prey to some famous celebrity chef’s evil seduction.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He reaches for me. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you how much.”
“Not going to argue with that.”
He takes my hand and we head up the stairs. Based on the efforts of the next few hours, he loves me very much indeed. I’m feeling so much better about everything, but then, just before I drift into sleep, one tiny little thing crosses my mind.
What do I do about him being at the birthday party?
Twenty
I’m just finishing up loading Lawrence’s fridge when he breezes in with the boys. Luckily the new batch of peanut butter dog biscuits are cooled enough to treat them.
“Hello, Philippe! Hello, Liagre! Did you have a good walk?” I say, handing each of them a biscuit. They are both so different about treats. Philippe is a lot like Simca, takes it daintily out of your hand and goes somewhere quiet to eat it. Liagre, on the other hand, is like a whirling dervish. He snatches it up, devours it on the spot, and then spins and jumps and begs for more.
“Liagre! Stop the begging, it is unseemly,” Lawrence says, kissing my cheek.
“How was the meeting yesterday?” I ask. Lawrence was meeting with a client who fired him midjob a couple of years ago and hasn’t spoken to him since.
“Fine. Somewhat confusing, to be honest.”
“In what way?”
“Well, you know, after the unpleasantness, we haven’t spoken. So I thought perhaps she wanted to talk it through, maybe give me her perspective. But she sort of acted like nothing had really gone on, and just wanted to catch up.”
“So, you are just supposed to, what? Forgive and forget? Pretend it didn’t happen?”
“I guess.”
“Would you even want that?”
“Not under this set of circumstances. If she had apologized, explained, even told me what she perceived that I had done to her to make her turn on me, and given me a chance to address it, then of course, it is always possible to move forward. But she didn’t and I’m too old to play make-believe. So I wished her well, but won’t be reconnecting with her again.”
“How do you feel?”
“More relieved than I would like to admit.”
“Why?”
“Honestly? Because as much as I was so sure that this meeting was about her apologizing to me, I was afraid it was going to be her telling me all the things I did or said that validated the way she treated me, and frankly, I’m judgmental enough about myself, I wasn’t really up for hearing someone else tell me my flaws, because I might have agreed with them.”
“Lawrence, you are one of the sweetest, kindest, most generous, most lovely people I have ever known.”
“Thank you, my dear. I’m also catty, snarky, a bit superior at times, occasionally intolerant of other people’s opinions if they don’t jibe with mine. Yes, I’m charming company at dinner, and Lord knows I’ll make your home gorgeous. But that doesn’t mean I’m always a choirboy. No one wants to believe that someone else might see the parts of themselves they hate the most. The parts they’re ashamed of. No one wants to listen to someone else lay out the litany of their faults, because then the blame lands squarely on your own shoulders and what does one do with that?”
I reach over and squeeze his hand. “One just remembers that the people who know him best and longest know that every human has flaws, but that his are far and away small and unimportant and that his amazing wonderful qualities outweigh them ten times over.”
He squeezes back. “Thank you, darling girl.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“And what do you have on your agenda the rest of the day?”
“I’m meeting Lynne for a puppy playdate, and then going to Teresa’s to help her make a French dinner for her family.”
“No Shawn tonight?”
“He’s having boys’ night out. One of his former teammates is in town, so there are a bunch of guys doing the chest-thumping, steak-dinner thing. If it doesn’t go too late, he’s coming over after.”
“I love the way you glow when you talk about him.”
“Me too. I don’t know that either of us will ever be able to thank you enough.”
“Well, all I did was put you in a room together, you did the rest. But I will take credit for the impulse.”
“Good. After all, it makes up for all your other nasty traits.”
“Evil Amazon. Get out of here and have your day.”