as Leo and Wendy sit down at the table to have dinner with their old friend and his new squeeze, shaking hands with Jordana and saying how nice it is to meet her, they exchange a furtive look of quiet alarm.
Carrie had thought that winning Jess over would be easy, but what she is beginning to understand is that you don’t win your stepchildren, or your pseudo-stepchildren, or your boyfriend’s children, over once. You win them over every day. Sometimes every hour. And sometimes every minute.
There is a part of her that understands Jess. She may not have been the product of a divorce, but she had been an unhappy child, had gone through the pre-pubescent awkwardness, had longed to be thin and pretty when all around her were discovering boys and she was always left at home.
But she finds Jess’ s tantrums so jarring. Her parents were not confrontational—unhappiness was expressed through silence, moods, depression, not through shouting and crying—and Carrie is helpless in the face of Jess weeping and wailing, shrieking, as she does, that Carrie has ruined her life, that she hates her.
Carrie tries to ignore it, and there are times, particularly when Richard isn’t around and it is just her and Jess, when Jess is gorgeous—sweet and chatty and clever—and Carrie relaxes, lets down her guard, thinks that they are finally friends, that it will all be fine.
Until Richard reappears and Jess shoves Carrie out of the way, climbs onto her father’s lap, throws a tantrum to get his attention, and Carrie feels, once again, superfluous.
“So what do you think?” Michael and Leo are walking behind the two girls, who are attempting to bond, post-dinner, over window-shopping down Madison Avenue, even though Wendy, a yoga instructor and doula, couldn’t be less interested in looking at designer shoes for several hundred dollars.
Leo sighs, then stops and looks at Michael. “Do you want me to be honest with you?”
Michael’s heart plummets. Whatever it is Leo’s going to say, it’s not going to be what he wants to hear, but he isn’t surprised. “Of course. You always are.”
“I think you’re playing with fire. Not only because she’s your boss, and she’s married, which, as far as I’m concerned, is nothing short of sheer insanity, but because she’s not for you.”
“You barely know her,” Michael says miserably. “I get what you’re saying about her being married and the work and stuff, those are all the issues I’m struggling with myself, but she’s not who you think.”
“Look, she’s great. I’m sure she’s a great girl, and for someone else she’s perfect. But not you,” Leo says. “I believe that she believes it when she says she doesn’t want the lifestyle anymore, she doesn’t want the jewelry and the designer clothes. I believe she believes it when she says she would be happy living in a farm in the country with you. But I don’t believe that’s true. I believe you’re both having an extraordinary relationship that is incredibly intense and electric, and unsustainable. One or the other of you is going to wake up very soon and realize this is not real.”
“What if we don’t?”
“I don’t know.” Leo shakes his head. “But, Michael, look at her.” They watch Jordana pointing out a floor-length leather coat, trimmed with mink.
“I love that one,” they hear her say. “I’ll have to come in tomorrow.”
Leo turns to Michael and raises an eyebrow. “You really think a girl like that is right for a guy like you?”
“I don’t know,” Michael says. “I still think she’s not what she appears. There’s more to her than meets the eye.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second,” Leo says. “But you asked me to be honest, and I have been. I just hope that neither of you gets hurt, that’s all. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. Just be careful.”
“I will,” Michael says, and when they reach the corner, all four say their good-byes, and Michael and Jordana jump into the first yellow cab they see.
“They hate me,” Jordana says, as she settles into the backseat of the cab, on their way back to her apartment.
“They don’t hate you,” Michael says, wondering how honest he should be.
“So what did Leo say?” She wants his friends’ approval so badly, but she knows she didn’t get it. How could she have gotten their approval when she had nothing in common with them, nothing to talk about, little to contribute when the conversation moved to politics and Buddhism.