49

Chapter 49

“Sure you are. I had a great time, but don’t invite me to anything else unless I have someone to talk to.”

“She’ll invite our mother next time.” Jason slid in and shut the door.

“Please don’t.” Hayley snarled. “I want to enjoy dinner.”

Jason kissed my cheek and pulled me into his lap. “I think she really is crazy...She made need some one-on-one professional help. I’ve been seeing a different side of her in our latest therapy sessions. It’s like something’s really bothering her.”

If only you knew...

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Four weeks ago

I looked over Denise’s latest email and rolled my eyes.

She’d created another fake account to send me news articles about cougars. This most recent article was about a Hollywood couple who was going through a tumultuous divorce: The actress was fifty and the actor was thirty five. All the critics were saying “Of course it wouldn’t last,” “It was destined to fail,” and “That’s what she gets for trying to land a younger man.”

In the subject line, she’d typed, “If she was famous, rich, and beautiful and couldn’t make it work, what makes you think it’ll work for you?”

“Rita, could you please have IT block another email address for me?” I buzzed her. “I’m forwarding it to you now.”

“Yes ma’am. Oh, and there was another delivery for you today. Would you like me to bring it in now?”

“Is it a box?”

“No, it’s wine and two more vases of flowers from your over the top secret admirer.” She laughed. “Do you know if he has any friends?”

“I’ll ask him. You can bring it in.”

As soon as I hung up the phone, she walked in with a large bottle of wine and two beautiful vases of pink flowers. The wine was one of my favorite reds—a vintage merlot that was over thirty years old. And like always, my name was etched onto the flowers’ crystal container with the words “Someone very special to me” right underneath.

I pulled the small white envelope from the stems and opened it:

Olivia,

I’m looking forward to spending time with you, Caroline, and Ashley this afternoon. Make sure you tell them that there’s a pool onboard.

Jason

PS—Come to my office after your next meeting.

PSS—Leave your panties.

I laughed and opened the other envelope that was attached to the wine bottle:

Olivia,

Wine is one of few things in life that age well over time. Some would even argue that the longer they age, the better they taste. Some of the best wines can last for decades if they’re stored properly and kept in a chill, dark place. However, even the best aged wines don’t last longer than a day once they’re uncorked and exposed to the air. It’s their Kryptonite; it’s what makes them realize how old they really are.

This Merlot was bottled in your birth year—forty years ago.

I uncorked it for you yesterday, so it doesn’t have much time left.

Enjoy!

Of course she didn’t sign it...

I ripped the notecard into pieces and tossed them into the trash. I completely regretted encouraging Jason to give her a second chance now; she was clearly replacing her normal “relapse drug time” with ways to hurt me. And to be honest, with each passing day it was working more and more.

No matter how many times Jason told me I was beautiful, no matter how many times he made love to me and told me I was perfect, one mean text, nasty voicemail, or email from Denise made me succumb to my stubborn insecurities.

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Two weeks ago

The waves of the ocean slapped up against the windows of his bedroom, and the yacht slowly rocked back and forth.

He’d just made love to me for the second time that morning, and I was trying to pull myself back down to reality, trying to put the images of our amazing sex in the back of my mind and tell him about his mother; her antics were getting out of hand.

“What are you thinking about now?” He pulled me into his arms so we were face to face.

“Nothing...”

He traced my lips with his fingertips and smiled. “Your eyes give you away all the time. That’s how I know when you’re lying to me.”

“I can talk to you about anything, right?”

“Of course you can.” He kissed me. “I don’t want any boundaries between us.”

How do I say, “Your mother is a bitch and I want you to keep her the hell away from me?” Do I say it outright? Is there a lead in sentence—What can I—

“That wasn’t a question that led into another question?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Not really...I just wanted to know.” I closed the small gap between us and ran my fingers through his thick hair, smiling at him as he smiled back at me.

From the look in his eyes I could tell that he wasn’t buying my “I just wanted to know” excuse; he knew something was off.

I sighed. It’s now or never, Olivia. Just tell him...One...Two...Thr—

“Would you mind going to dinner with me and my mom next weekend?” he asked.

WHAT! “You two are on good terms now?” I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.

“I don’t know...I walked out on our last therapy session, so I wouldn’t necessarily say good terms...”

“You don’t think you can have dinner without arguing with her?” Please don’t ask me do this...

“I would just feel more comfortable if you came with me.” He gazed into my eyes, giving me a look that screamed “Please say yes” and kissed me again. “That’s all.”

“Okay. I’ll come.”

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Last Friday

I scrolled through another one of Denise’s four page text-rants and vowed to have my number changed. She’d been texting me nonsense all day: old pictures of Jason with his ex-supermodel girlfriends, photo-shopped pictures of me with gray hair—sitting in a wheelchair as he pushed me, and links to articles about “How Not to Deal with a Mid-Life Crisis.”

The last thing I wanted to do tonight was sit at a table with her, putting on a show like she and I hadn’t been speaking over the past few weeks. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t going to be fake at all; I was going to let Jason to see her for exactly who she was.

I shut down my computer and started putting my things away, wishing that I could fast forward to two weeks from now. I’d been debating whether Jason and I should take a break, whether we should end our affair now before the cold reality set in months later.

“Miss Donovan?” Rita called me over the intercom. “Your four o’ clock appointment is here. I’m letting her in now. Mr. Barnes wants me to help him with the intern meeting upstairs.”

I don’t have a four o’ clock... “I told you I was going home early today. Remember? I don’t have a—”

Denise walked into my office and shut the door. She sat down in front of my desk and smiled, sliding a bright yellow box towards me.

I didn’t say anything. I kept putting my things away. I figured I’d let her sit there all day if she wanted to. I even considered running out of my office and locking her inside for the night.

“Are you going to address me?” she asked. “Hello?”

Beta team’s files in the red folder...The notes for Mr. Barnes in the yellow folder...I need to re-organize last Thursday’s markups for the art department...Where are my—

“Olivia?” She cleared her throat. “I want you to know that none of what I’ve said to you over the past few weeks is personal. It’s simply me trying to be the best mother I can be.”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think? He needed you when he was nine—not twenty nine.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not the monster he makes me out to be. And you don’t know a damn thing about what was happening when he was nine—except the fact that you were twenty years old back then so—”

“Get the fuck out of my office or I’ll call security.”

“Touchy today, are we?”

I picked up my phone and hit seven.

She stood up and stepped back towards the door. “I was just coming by to drop off that gift. You can think of it as an early dinner present. I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight... This should be fun.” She gave me an evil smile and it took everything I had not to jump over my desk and beat her into the ground.

The door slammed shut and I sank down in my chair. I didn’t even bother opening the box. I tossed it into the trash and hit nine to cancel the security call.

I couldn’t believe I’d actually talked Jason out of canceling dinner tonight. I’d told him that he and his mom needed to keep trying to work things out, that I would be there for him the entire time.

What the hell was I thinking?

“Olivia?” Jason burst into my office with two security guards. “What’s the problem?”

“Huh?”

“You called security...”

“Oh, right...” I watched as his guards walked around my office, opening and closing the connecting doors and closets. “It was a mistake...I’m sorry. I hit nine to cancel.”

“Thank you very much, gentlemen. False alarm.” He waited for them to leave the room. “You look pale. You sure you’re alright?”

No...“I’m fine. Are you tracking my phone calls?”

“I get notifications about all emergency calls—text messages for regular employees, a phone call if it’s coming from you.”

“Oh...” I leaned back. “Are any of my coworkers out there? Did they see you come up?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes and walked over to me. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“What are you talking about?”

He cupped my face in his hands. “You’ve been on edge lately...”

Your mother’s been harassing me. Say it. Say it! “I’m just overwhelmed with a lot of assignments. That’s all.”

“Hmmm. I’m sure I can fix that for you. Do you want to cancel dinner tonight? We don’t have to go.”

“But your therapist said that—”

“My mom is still acting like she doesn’t remember any of the things she did when I was younger...She was just here for a session and I walked out. I don’t think our relationship is reparable.”

I sighed. I thought about saying, “It’s not. And you know what? I hate her too. Let’s cancel dinner and I’ll tell you all about it,” but my motherly instincts won out. The two of them could fix this, they needed to fix this.

“It just takes time. Don’t cancel...She may have a strange way of showing it, but I think she’s willing to do whatever it takes to be a mainstay in your life now.”

“Based on what I just told you?”

Based on what she’s been doing...“Just trust me. Keep the dinner reservation... I’ll be there.”

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Last Friday night

I stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows of the ocean view restaurant and watched the waves hit the bay rocks over and over. I was dreading this dinner so much that I was tempted to run out on the patio and dive into the sea.

When Jason dropped me off at home hours ago, I’d found another “gift” from Denise. I tossed it towards the trashcan, but it fell short a few feet and the contents of the box tumbled out onto the floor: They were pictures, and not just any pictures. Recent pictures of Ryan and Amanda enjoying their amazing life together—walking along the river with their two young children, kissing one another as they strolled through the park hand in hand, laughing at nothing at all. They were sitting on a rock at me and Ryan’s old spot—our favorite downtown park. They were running down a cobblestoned street at Disneyworld, with Ashley and Caroline not too far behind them.

How did she get these?

I stopped looking through the pictures and felt myself shaking, feeling angry and hurt all over again. I told myself that I wasn’t going to cry, that I wasn’t going to read the little notes she’d written on the back of every picture, but I slumped down to the floor and read them all.

I read every single word as tears fell down my face: “Fourteen years down the drain...” “You think Ashley and Caroline will actually respect a stepfather that’s only thirteen years older than them?” “You don’t think he’ll ever want kids of his own? Really? Ryan clearly did, and Jason will too...Maybe not until he’s in his thirties, but he will. You know that.” “Look at how Amanda and Ryan are aging together. She has a streak of gray and so does he...Are you going to be able to dye your hair every week? Isn’t the Age-Away regimen time consuming enough?” “I’m only trying to help you...I can help you find someone more suitable in no time...”

My phone started vibrating and I snapped out of my memory. It was a text from Jason: “On my way. Can’t wait until dinner’s over :-).”

I smiled and noticed another text. From Denise: “I know you have no reason to believe me right now, but I am so very sorry about the way I’ve treated you over the past few weeks...Jason and I are on our way to the restaurant now and I...I didn’t realize how much you meant to him. I thought you were a cougar that was after his money—I’m sorry for ever thinking that and calling you out of your name. Can we please be civil with one another at dinner tonight? I really am sorry.”

I didn’t respond. It was too late for an apology—much too late.

My phone vibrated again, and I saw another text from her. “I know you don’t owe me anything and you have every right to be angry with me, but can we PLEASE get through this dinner without incident? He won’t talk to me anymore if you tell him what’s been going on or make a scene...I’ll do whatever it takes to repair what I’ve messed up. I take everything I said back...Can we please start over? I think we could be good friends if we tried.”

No response.

I kept watching the waves roll over one another, trying to prepare myself for this terrible dinner.

By the time Jason and his mother finally arrived, I’d had enough time to think things through, to make up my mind about this impossible relationship: I decided that I would get through dinner without incident. I would be polite to Denise and make sure that Jason never left my side, but after tonight, he and I would be over.