If I Were Your Woman (15 page)

B
arbara had been watching the clock all morning in between tending her heavy caseload of rehab patients. She'd slept in fits and starts during the night, debating the veracity of what she'd planned to do. More times than she could count she'd internally voted against going to the Plaza, but the practical side of her understood that going to see Michael was no longer an option but a necessity.

She'd arranged her therapy schedule to allow her an extra half hour for lunch and hoped that would give her the time she needed. She finished up with her last patient for the morning.

“I have a few errands to run on my lunch break,” she said to her assistant. “So I'm going to be taking a little extra time. But I don't have another patient until three.”

“No problem. I brought my lunch with me so I'll hold down the office in case anything comes up.”

“Thanks. See you in a few.”

Barbara hurried out to the parking lot and located her car. While she waited for it to warm up she went over what she planned to say and all the possible scenarios that could arise.

She drew in a breath of resolve, put the car in gear, and slowly pulled out. Getting from the East Side of Manhattan to the West Side was nerve-racking at best. Although the snow had begun to melt, the roads were still a challenge and the traffic was slow. What would have been a twenty-minute ride turned into forty. And Barbara's nerves were frazzled.

Finally she spotted the grand hotel up ahead and had to traverse the circular approach to the Plaza. She pulled up in front and was truly appreciative of the luxuries of the wealthy. A valet came up to her car, took her keys, and promised to take good care of her vehicle.

Barbara walked into the massive lobby of the Plaza that had been the backdrop for many movies with its ornate decoration and almost regal staff.

She tried to look inconspicuous as she searched for the bank of elevators. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to know that she was going up to see Michael or ask to help her in some way. She found the right set of elevators and stepped on, keeping her eyes on the floor when other hotel guests stepped on.

Finally the elevator arrived on the sixteenth floor. She checked the directional signs on the wall and turned left down the hushed corridor.

There, 1608. She stood in front of the door. She looked left, then right, inhaled deeply, then knocked on the door. The door was opened almost immediately.

Michael took up the doorway. When she saw the light sparking in his eyes and the welcoming smile widening the mouth that she knew so well, she knew in an instant that coming here was the right thing to do.

“Come in. You look beautiful as always.”

Her cheeks heated. She walked past him and into his suite.

The suite was something right off a late-night soap. White was the centerpiece color from the thick wool carpet to the silk drapes that adorned floor-to-ceiling windows to the sectional couch that could easily seat ten with room to spare. A white-lacquered bar took up one side of the room, but it was the black marble fireplace set against the winter white walls that was the focal point. A roaring fire blazed behind the grate.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water would be fine,” she said, her throat suddenly dry. She walked over to the couch and sat down stiffly on its edge, holding her purse in a death grip in her lap as if she expected it to be ripped from her hands. She looked around knowing. This was how he lived every day. Expensive hotels, all his needs met, travel, money, a home in Miami, and one he was having built on the island of Antigua. She could have it all, too. Any worries that she might have had about her financial future in her later years would be nonexistent.

Michael strolled over to her and extended the crystal glass. “I won't bite. You can relax.”

She glanced up and forced a smile. She took the glass. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Michael started to sit next to her but changed his mind and moved farther away. He didn't want to crowd her and he wanted to be able to look into her eyes while they talked.

“How long can you stay?” he began.

She cleared her throat. “Not long. I have to get back to work.”

“Oh.” His tone reflected his disappointment. “I was hoping that we could spend the afternoon together. But I'm just happy you're here.” He clasped his large hands together and leaned forward slightly. “These months that we've been apart have been harder on me than I imagined.” He chuckled lightly. “Contrary to popular opinion, us jocks have feelings too.” He stole a glance at her. “But the time apart also gave me time to think, think about why it didn't work—for you.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “I realize now that I was on a full-court press from the beginning. You were the winning basket and I was going to make it no matter what. And I was going to get past all your best defenses. I don't think I ever gave you a chance to show me your skills on the court.” He ducked his head for a moment. “Sorry for all the NBA lingo, but I hope you understand what I'm trying to tell you.

“I'm willing to back up, give you some space so that you can be you. If you want to work, work. If you don't want to move from New York?” He shrugged. “No problem. What I'm saying is I'm willing to compromise. I'm willing to listen to the coach.” He ran his tongue across his lips.

If only they would have had this conversation months ago, if only…“Mike…I can't begin to tell you how much you have meant and mean to me. You changed my life in so many ways. I'd been sleepwalking for years content to be alone except for my friends, and then you burst into my life and I came face-to-face with the sun.” She studied her clenched hands. “I love you and so many things about you. I've been in lust with you.” She smiled shyly, then looked directly at him. “But I'm not
in
love with you.” She watched his hopeful expression fall and felt her heart breaking. If she never knew before the depths of his feelings for her she understood them now. “I never was. I was captivated, mesmerized, swept away by the very notion of you and you wanting me. But that's not enough to build a relationship on.” She swallowed over the knot building in her throat. She opened her purse and took out the velvet box. She set it down on the table. “I should have given this back to you a long time ago. It's a beautiful token of who we
were
to each other. But we both have to move on, and holding on to tokens of the past won't let us do that.”

He smile was sad. “That's why I'll always love you and you'll always have a place in my heart because you never held back. You've been trying to tell me this for a long time. I wasn't listening.” He stood. “But I am now.” He reached out his hand.

Barbara stood up and took his hand. He gently pulled her toward him and held her tenderly against his chest. “He's a lucky man. And I'm man enough to step aside for good. All I want is for you to be happy.”

She glanced up at him. “I am.”

He nodded and kissed her forehead, then let her go. “Can I call you a car service?”

“No, I drove.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You drove?”

“Yeah, I'm working on confronting the things that challenge me.”

He walked her to the door. “Listen, I'm a man of my word. I'll make sure that Chauncey gets season tickets to the Garden.” He held up his hand when it looked as though she was going to object. I'll mail them.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

He opened the door. “Maybe you'll even come one of these days. It would be great to look out and see you in the stands.”

She pressed her finger to his chest. “I just might.” She drew in a breath. “Goodbye, Michael.”

“Goodbye.”

She turned and slowly walked down the hallway, then picked up her pace. With each step her spirit grew lighter, her heart and conscience clearer. She pressed the bell for the elevator. She and Michael had done the goodbyes before they'd said all the words. But because she had not been totally clear in her heart and mind, she'd inadvertently left the door ajar. The elevator bell tinged. She stepped on. The door closed—finally.

 

Elizabeth sat behind the check-in desk going over the supply list. But her mind wasn't on what she was doing.

She and Ron had talked long into the night. He told her all about Ali and his connection to Stephanie. Ron told her that he was at a crossroads as to what to do. Ali had asked him not to say anything. He didn't feel it was right to keep something that important away from Stephanie, but didn't know the best way to approach her.

“I know I broke a promise,” he'd said as they lay in bed together. “But there's no one else I would entrust this to. I value your judgment.”

Elizabeth thought about that now. He and Matt were like night and day. She couldn't remember a time in their twenty-plus-year marriage that Matt had ever “valued her judgment” about anything more serious than the grocery list. She smiled to herself. So this is what it really felt like to be loved and valued.

She checked the time on the computer. Stephanie had called earlier and said that she would come in at three and take over the front. It was almost that now.

Elizabeth busied herself with filing and counting the minutes. A little after three, Stephanie breezed in looking absolutely fabulous. She was always stylish in her appearance, but today without a doubt she looked like she was ready for a photo shoot.

Her champagne-colored hair was feathered around her face with the top in that spiked look but classy. Her honey-toned skin was flawlessly made up. She wore thigh-high black leather boots over black leggings. And from beneath her waist-length fox jacket bloomed a winter white chenille sweater with a collar that rose almost up to her cheeks. Every male she passed turned his head in her direction.

“Well, where are you going or coming from?” Elizabeth asked, looking her over in admiration.

She dramatically swept off her dark glasses, then cracked up laughing. “Like that move, huh? I've always wanted to do that.”

“You're in a good mood. Something happen?”

“Yes, I'm in love! Can you believe it? Me, Stephanie Moore, party girl, can't-tie-me-down extraordinaire.”

“Whoa, and when did you get this revelation?”

“Last night. Maybe even before then but I just wasn't willing to admit it, not even to myself.”

“Anyone I know?” Elizabeth teased.

Stephanie leaned on the counter. “As a matter of fact, he's good-looking, built, talented, fun, sexy—”

“Hey, watch it. That sounds like my man,” she said with an exaggerated roll and pop of her neck.

Stephanie high-fived her. “I hear that.”

“For real, though, girl, I'm happy for you. You deserve it. You've been through it, and Tony is a damned good guy. At least from where I'm standing.”

“Yes, he is. So…everything cool around here? You ready to go on your break? I can actually stay the rest of the evening if you have things to do.”

Stephanie was in such a good mood. Elizabeth didn't want to be the one to break her bubble, but she honestly believed that holding on to what she knew only delayed the inevitable. And she also knew how much Stephanie needed answers.

“Actually, I was going to let one of the part-timers cover the front. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh.” Her exuberant expression dwindled by degrees. “Is something wrong? Your whole aura changed.”

“No, nothing like that but I have some news that I want to share with you. Let's go downstairs.”

When they got to the office, Elizabeth closed the door. Stephanie spun around to face her. “What the hell is it? You're scaring me.”

“Just sit down for a minute, okay?”

Reluctantly, Stephanie sat down. “Well?”

“We all know how you feel about growing up without your father and not knowing why he left….”

Stephanie's eyes widened.

“Ron's friend Ali…knows all about it. He doesn't know how to tell you. But I think you need to talk to him.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying Ali has the answers you've been looking for.”

Ali, the man who'd rescued her, the one she'd met at the restaurant, the one who seemed so oddly familiar? She didn't know what to think. What could he know?

Stephanie finally focused on Elizabeth. “Um, Ron didn't tell you anything else?”

“No.” She knew she was lying to her friend. Ron told her everything. But she wanted Stephanie to hear it all firsthand from Ali.

“I don't even know how to get in touch with him. I—” Her mind was so jumbled that she'd almost forgotten that she had his number. “I'm going to call him,” she said, her voice suddenly paper thin. She kept nodding to herself as she fumbled around in her bag for her Axim as if to reconfirm what she was doing and if it was the right thing.

After several false starts she located it, turned it on, and scrolled for his number. She glanced up at Elizabeth who gave her a smile of encouragement and eased out the door.