Matthew was there, asleep in his room with his nanny.
“Tfou ought to take a holiday somewhere sometime, Paul. Go to California and see your children by yourself. Why should your life be crippled by what your wife does?”
“You're right, but it's not much fun alone.” He was always comfortable and honest with her, as he was now as he sipped his drink, and watched Zoya where she sat. She was wearing a white dress and her hair was pulled back like a girl's.
“No, it's not much fun to do things alone.” She smiled. “But I'm getting used to it.” It had been brutal getting used to a life without Simon.
“Don't get used to it, Zoya. It's lousy.” He said it with such vehemence, Zoya looked startled. “You deserve more than that.” He had spent his life alone and he didn't want to see it happen to her. She was vibrant and beautiful and alive and she deserved more than the loneliness he knew too well.
But she only laughed and shook her head. “I'm forty-four years old, I'm too old to start again.” And she knew that no one would ever measure up to Simon.
“Bullshit, I'm almost fifty-five, and if I had the chance to start again, I'd leap at it.” It was the first time he had said that to her, as he stretched his long legs out before him, his shock of white hair smoothly combed, his eyes alive as he looked at her. He always loved being with her. He looked forward to their hardworking Mondays all week. They were what kept him going.
I'm happy like this.” She was lying to herself more than to him. She wasn't happy, but it was all she had now.
“No, you're not. Why should you be?”
“Because it's all I have,” she spoke quietly, wise enough to accept her life as it was, rather than longing for a past that was gone forever. She had done that before, and she wouldn't do it again. She had to be content with what she had, her children and her work, and once a week her talks with Paul Kelly.
He was looking hard at her then, and without saying a word he set his glass down, and went to sit next to her, staring at her intently with the blue eyes that bored into her. “I just want you to know something. I can't do a damn thing about it, and I can't offer you anything right now, but Zoya … I love you. I have since the day we met. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” She looked stunned as he looked at her, and then without saying another word he took her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth, feeling his heart soar and his whole body ache for her, “You are so beautiful … and so strong …”
“Don't say that, Paul … don't …” She wanted to push him away, but she couldn't bring herself to. She felt so guilty for wanting him, it seemed to deny Simon's very memory, and yet she couldn't stop herself as she kissed him again, and clung to him as though she were drowning.
“I love you so much,” he whispered, kissing her again, his powerful arms holding her close, feeling her heart beat against his chest, and then he looked at her and smiled. “Let's go somewhere … away … anywhere … it would do us both good”
“I can't”
“Yes, you can … we can.” He held tightly to her hand and felt himself come alive again. The years seemed to fall away from him as he looked at her. He was young again and he wasn't going to let her get away from him. If he had to live with Allison for the rest of his life, then maybe at least, for one shining moment, he could have Zoya.
“Paul, this is crazy,” she pulled away from him, and walked around the room, seeing Simon's face in their photographs, glancing at his trophies, his treasures, his art books. “We don't have a right to this.”
But he wasn't going to let her go now. If she had slapped his face, he would have apologized and left, but he could see now that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. “Why not? Who makes those rules? You're not married. I am, but not in any way that means anything to anyone. I haven't been in years. I'm trapped in a marriage of