“I mean, could it be important? He doesn’t usually call, does he?”
I turn back to Leo, and the phone has mercifully stopped ringing. “He calls every few months. He says he wants to see the kids. I say ‘great!’ Then he says he’ll call back later in the week when he’s ‘nailed down a few deets.’ And then he never calls.”
“Never?”
“Never. The first time, I told the kids that he was coming, and they were all excited. But of course he didn’t come, so now I don’t tell them. On the off chance he ever knocks on the door, it’ll just be a surprise.”
The phone’s ringing again. Leo says, “He’s calling back? Seriously, you should pick up.”
“He just doesn’t like being ignored,” I say, and I answer the call on speakerphone.
“Hi, Ben.”
“Hey there. How’s it going?”
“Great.” I smile at Leo, because it is going great, so great, beyond great in my wildest fantasies, if I’d ever taken the time to have any.
“Great. And how are the kids?”
“They’re good. I mean, their dad left and he never sees them. But otherwise they’re good.”
“Do you realize you say that every single time we talk?”
“I do.”
He lets out an exasperated breath. “So, I was thinking I’d come in two weeks. I just have to nail down a few deets, but is it okay if I come and take them for a weekend?”
“Sure.” Leo rolls his eyes, and I nod.
“Okay, thanks. So you’re good? You sound a little distracted. Working on another one of your corny romances?”
I smile at Leo. “I am. And this is the best, corniest one yet.”
“Ha. Ever finish the one you were writing about me?”
“I did.” Leo’s making big eyes at me.
“Hilarious,” Ben says, because he really has no idea what a jerk he is.
When I hang up, Leo pulls me in tight. “So there’s no chance he’s going to follow through and show up?”
“I would drop dead of shock if he knocked on the door. Let me put it this way: Ben always does what he wants to do. If he wants something, he buys it. If he wants to leave, he goes. If he wanted to see the kids, he would have been here months ago.”
“Just do me a favor. Let me answer the door if he ever knocks,” Leo says.
* * *
? ? ?
The week rolls by in a familiar rhythm. Wake, sunrise, kids, run, tea house, play rehearsal, dinner. Some days we act like a normal couple. We go to the supermarket and the little grocery in town. He wants to go to Costco, but I tell him he can’t handle it. We go to lunch at the bistro and sit at the same table as our first date. I am so comfortable with Leo that I sometimes think I’ve lost the ability to pause between thinking something and saying something.
The waiter brings my bouillabaisse, and I say, “Are you really going to leave after opening night?” I can’t believe I’ve said it once it’s out. I look at my clams and try to regain my cool. “I mean, I know that’s the plan, but is it still the plan?”
Leo says, “I don’t have any place I need to be.”
Relief. “Okay. Well, good. I mean I didn’t know if I should be counting down or . . . oh, for chrissake.” Vicky freakin’ Miller walks into the restaurant.
“What?”
“It’s Vicky Miller. She had an affair with Ben and thinks I don’t know. Which is ridiculous because everyone in town knows.”
“That bastard,” he says. “What the hell.”
“Deep down, Ben felt really, really bad about himself.”
“You’re still covering for him.”
And in an instant, there’s Vicky standing at the side of our table, big smile. “Nora! I can’t believe it. I never see you out!” Nice.
“It must be Groundhog Day,” I say, making like I’m peering out of my hole.
“I’m Leo,” says Leo, with more reserve than I’m used to.
“Yes. I’m Vicky,” she says, like that’s exciting news. “I heard you were making a movie in town.”
“I was. But now I’m just staying with Nora.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, waiting for her to speak.
“Well, that’s nice,” says Vicky, who left her underwear in my husband’s Audi.
When we’ve left the restaurant, Leo has a thousand questions. “So you never confronted him about it? You never confronted her?”