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looked in the racks, went upstairs to see the classical work, and then left for SoHo to meet his friends. He whispered to Sasha that he would see her at the apartment later, and she nodded.

Providentially, five minutes after he left, Tatianna walked in. She was on her way to pick up something from a photographer, and stopped in to see her mother. She looked happy and pretty as she always did and, as Sasha looked at her with new eyes now, extremely young. She was exactly the age of the women Liam always chatted with and admired. She had just turned twenty-four. Looking at her with a fresh perspective, Sasha felt ancient. She knew she was going to have to get over feeling that way if she and Liam were going to make it work. She had never thought about her age before, and now she was obsessed with it. Everyone else looked young to her. And she felt old.

“Hi, Mom. How long are you here for?” Tatianna asked as she grabbed a piece of chocolate from a dish and kissed her mother.

“A month, I think.” As always, Sasha was thrilled to see her daughter.

“That's a long time.” Tatianna was surprised to hear it. In recent months, her mother never stayed in New York long. The apartment she'd shared with Arthur depressed her, and she always said she felt his absence more acutely here.

“We're opening a show this month, I have to curate it, and I figured I'd stick around for a while. How's everything with you?”

“Great. I just got a raise, my editor hates me, and I want her job.” Tatianna was on top of the world. She smiled as she looked at her mother, happy to see her.

“That all sounds normal.” Her mother laughed.

“See you soon, I gotta go now. I'm late. I just wanted to say hi.” She had a cab waiting outside, and blew out as fast as she blew in, taking a handful of chocolates with her, in lieu of lunch. Sasha kissed her quickly, and she was gone.

Sasha had a busy day in the gallery, working on the new show. She curated their shows herself, and loved to do it. She had to tear herself away to meet Liam at the apartment at six o'clock. He was eating ice cream and pizza in the kitchen when she walked in, and kissed her on the mouth.

“Mmmmm… delicious. What is it? Rocky Road?”

“Fudge Brownie,” he corrected her. “I always forget how good the ice cream is in the States. In England, it tastes like shit.”

“It's worse in France.” She smiled at him. “Gelato is good …” She sat down at the kitchen table and looked at him, it was nice to see him there at the end of a long day. He seemed right at home.

“Gelato is for sissies,” he corrected. “This is the real thing. Have a piece of pizza, I'm taking you out.” She didn't want to tell him she was tired after a long day, and jet-lagged. He looked vibrant and full of life. He'd had a great day with his friends.

“Where are you taking me? Do I need to change?” All she wanted was to fall into a hot bath and relax before going to bed. She was exhausted after hauling paintings and curating all day.

“Yeah. Put on blue jeans,” he said, as he rinsed the bowl and put it in the dishwasher. He was good about those things when he was with her. His own place was a total mess. He'd been living in his studio since Beth and the children left, and camped out in a sleeping bag on a cot. This was grand luxury for him. “I got tickets to a Yankees game,” he said victoriously. “I bought them from a friend.” He glanced at his watch. “We have to leave in ten minutes. The game starts at seven-thirty, and there might be traffic.” He had lived in New York years before, for about a year, and always forgot how much he loved it till he came back again. He loved the electricity and excitement, and the Yankees best of all.

Sasha tried to look enthusiastic for his sake, and went to change. Once in a while, she wondered what she was doing with a man his age, who acted half his age. He needed someone like Tatianna, and instead he had wound up with her. She didn't bother with the pizza, but washed her face and combed her