If You Only Knew(114)

“Yes.” I take a sip of my mocha-whatever.

“I’m wondering if you’re interested in him. Romantically. I always thought you’d make a lovely couple.”

I choke. She hands me a napkin. “Excuse me?” I manage.

“You and Jared. You obviously have feelings for him.”

“I— What?”

“Women and men don’t stay friends because they like each other, dear. You and Jared. It would be a vast improvement over that white trash he’s smitten with.”

“His fiancée, you mean? Your future daughter-in-law?”

“Yes.”

I open my mouth, close it, then open it again. “Mrs. Brewster, first of all, Jared and I are only friends. Second, his wedding is in ten days! He loves Kimber. And third, I’m married!”

“I’ve heard things are not quite...happy...for you, Rachel.”

Heat flares like sunspots on my chest and cheeks. “Did you. How nice of you to call and see how I was doing, in that case.”

“I would never pry.”

“But you’re...what? Pimping me your son? Or are you telling me to make a pass at him? I’m unclear.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “I’m saying that I think he’s making a terrible mistake, and if he were aware that you had romantic feelings for him—”

“Which I don’t.”

“—then he might be open to calling off the wedding to that ridiculous Kimber person.” She pauses. “We’re quite well off, you know.”

“Oh. Okay. So if I do this, will you pay me? A lot? A million dollars?”

Her eyes harden. “Fine. Make light of the problem.”

I put the lid on my coffee. “You’re the only problem here, Eleanor. Have some faith in your son, for heaven’s sake.” With that, I stand up to leave. “I won’t tell Jared about this little meeting—for now—but if I hear you bad-mouthing Kimber again, I will in a New York minute. I can only imagine how disappointed he’d be in you.” I pick up my bag and my coffee and stride out of there.

My first thought in the car is to call Gus. To say, “So guess what? Someone just offered to pay me to seduce her son,” and hear his wry answer, something like, “Welcome to my world.”

But I don’t. I like Gus, and it wouldn’t be fair to lead him on in any way, not with Adam and me back together. So I call my mom instead. “Oh, good for you, Rachel!” she says when I’m done. “I always thought she was a condescending pain in the ass. Who’d have thought you had it in you?”

This New Rachel brings something to the party, after all.

And even though I didn’t call him, the thought of Gus and his smiley eyes keeps me company for the rest of the day.

Jenny

I finally meet Owen for brunch.

I had suggested dinner up near me, but Owen, like so many New Yorkers, hemmed and hawed at the thought of driving “all the way” to Cambry-on-Hudson. He and Ana-Sofia have only come out the one time, for the opening of Bliss. So I caved. Later today is Evander’s audition, and since I had to be in the city for that anyway, here I am.

We meet at a place we used to go to with friends in our old life. I haven’t seen Owen in weeks and weeks now, and for a flash of a second, my eyes pass right over him as I scan the restaurant—woman in yellow Stella McCartney, check; Asian man with baby in stroller, check; hipster with wool hat on, check, it’s July, buddy, isn’t the hat a little ridiculous?—hang on, back to man with baby...

It’s Owen. I smile and make my way to the table.

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, taking both my hands in his and kissing me on the cheek. “You look wonderful!”

“Thanks. You, too. Hi, Natalia! I didn’t know you were coming today, pumpkin!”

She smiles up at me. She really is a beautiful baby.

“Ana-Sofia was supposed to have her today. I’m sorry.”

“Are you kidding? Natalia’s my favorite of all three of you. Aren’t you, sweetie?”

“Would you like to hold her?”

“Yes, please. I even brought my own hand sanitizer.” I slather up, then reach out for the baby.

Her head has that hypnotically wonderful baby smell, and her hair is silky. As she did when she was first born, she reminds me of a seal with her huge dark eyes and shock of black hair.

“Can I get you a drink?” the waitress asks. “Oh, your baby is so cute. She looks just like you.”

She’s talking to me.

“Oh, she’s not mine. But she is cute,” I say.

Owen is looking at me with a smile.

Kind of a dopey smile.

“I’ll have a mimosa,” I say.

“Same for me,” my ex echoes.

“Coming up!” The waitress bustles away.

“So. How are you?” Owen asks.

“Good. Fine. I’m looking for a house,” I say, kissing the baby’s head. Really, I kind of wish Owen would go away and leave me to inhale his daughter’s good smells.

“Excellent! A house! How wonderful!” he says, his abundant enthusiasm immediately irritating me.

“How’s Ana-Sofia?” I ask.

“Oh, she’s fine. The usual.”