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luck that he died.”
“It sounds like it. But he died, Sasha. You didn't. If you had died, and he didn't, he probably would have found someone else too. We all need someone to love. Life's just too damn hard to be alone.” The last six months without Beth and the kids had been hell for him.
“I'm not so sure it's much easier if you wind up with the wrong person. Like Becky. I got it right the first time. I don't think I could ever be that lucky again. Why take the chance?” she said wistfully.
“Because you might get lucky again. You're a good person. You deserve it. It wouldn't be the same. It would be different. But different isn't always such a bad thing.”
“I can't imagine myself dating,” she said honestly, as the waitress set three small bowls of candy down in front of them, and a plate of cookies. “Just the little I've seen of it looks terrifying to me.”
“Yeah, it does to me too.” He laughed then, at the absurdity of their situation. “I do the same thing you do. I get lost in my work. I haven't stopped painting since she left.”
“It works for me.” Sasha smiled, and as long as there were talented artists like Liam, what she did would keep working. “It's hard now that the kids are gone. At least in Paris, I'm close to Xavier, and I go to New York a lot. But it gets to me at night,” she confessed, and he nodded.
“It gets to me then too. And I miss the kids like crazy. I figure they're better off without me right now, and they have Beth's future husband. She says he's a great guy, and a good father. Probably better than I am. They're a lot better off with Beth than with me. He's more respectable than I am, and more traditional. Beth says that's good for them. There's nothing wacky about him.” He sounded humble and defeated as he said it. He had lost not only his wife, but his kids.
“You're their father, Liam. You can't abandon them. You should go to see them soon.”
“Yeah,” he said vaguely, “I will.” But he didn't sound convinced, which disturbed her.
She had called the restaurant earlier and asked them not to present a bill. She didn't want to embarrass Liam. And after they ate the candy and had coffee, they walked outside and got back in her car. She told the driver to take her back to the hotel, and then drop Liam off at his place. But once they got back to the hotel, he told her he could take a cab from there. He asked her if she wanted to have a drink, and she really didn't. They had had enough champagne and wine. She rarely drank.
“I'll walk you to your room, and then I'll leave,” he said reassuringly. She had enjoyed his company all evening, and it was nice having someone take her home. She could feel the familiar loneliness creeping up on her, and he could feel it too. Nights were agony for lonely people, which they both were. And then she smiled as she looked down at his shoes as they walked up the stairs, and she noticed the absence of socks again. She couldn't resist teasing him about it, now that she knew him a little better. “I couldn't find any,” he said, looking unembarrassed. “Besides, I'm an artist. I don't have to wear socks.” He said it with a defiant look and she laughed.
“Who made that rule?” she asked him.
“I did,” he said proudly. “I'm a wacky artist. I can do anything I want.” When he said it, he looked about five years old, and she could see a lifetime of mischief in his eyes. He was severely allergic to all forms of authority and control, as he perceived it.
“No, you can't do whatever you want. We all have to follow rules.” She felt like a schoolteacher as she said it, and he laughed at her.
“Is there a rule about socks?”
“Absolutely.” As she said it, she was thinking about sending him a box of socks and shirts. He obviously needed them, and maybe shoelaces too. She wondered if he'd wear them. Probably not. He obviously loved being unconventional and making his own rules. And then she wondered if he didn't wear underwear either, and blushed at the thought.
“What were you thinking?” He had seen the look on her face.
“Nothing.” She looked embarrassed.
“Yes, you