One Day at a Time Page 0,109

picked her up at the airport in L.A., and drove her back to the house where Jane was waiting. It was the night before Thanksgiving, and the three of them were going to have a quiet dinner. Liz didn't ask her about Leslie, and Coco didn't mention him. Coco was wondering if he had made it to New York for Thanksgiving with Chloe and her mother. He hadn't called her, and she had no idea if he had left Venice. She thought it was best to just leave things the way they were, to drift away. The die had been cast on their last night in Venice, and her decision had been made. He knew it from her silence, and she knew from his that he understood. They still loved each other, but there was no doubt in her mind now. It could never be.

Jane was sprawled on the couch when she and Liz got back from the airport, and she waved when Coco walked in. She looked like a beach ball with arms and legs and a head, and Coco smiled as she walked over to give her a hug.

“Holy shit, you're huge!” Her belly looked as though it had doubled in size in three weeks.

“If that's a compliment, thank you.” Jane grinned at her. “If not, screw you. You should try wearing this.” Coco almost winced as she said it. She had put the idea of marriage and babies behind her, and hearing her say it made her think of Leslie instantly. “I don't even want to think about how big this kid is going to be in two months. It scares the shit out of me.”

They talked and laughed over dinner. Liz and Jane had finished their film, and were moving back to San Francisco for good the following week. They were halfway through dinner and a good bottle of wine when Jane suddenly turned to her and asked how Leslie was. She suddenly realized that Coco hadn't mentioned him all evening.

“Fine, I guess,” Coco said, trying to brace herself for what would come next. She gave a quick glance at Liz, who obviously hadn't said anything, and Coco was grateful for that. She had needed the last three weeks to compose herself before telling Jane.

“Is everything all right with you two?” Jane asked, frowning.

“Actually, no, it's not,” Coco said quietly. “It's over. You were right. We had a couple of minor brushes with the paparazzi, and on my last night in Venice, they ambushed us. And as you predicted,” she said stoically, “I folded like a house of cards. They scared the hell out of me. I wound up with seven stitches and a broken wrist, and I figured that was enough for me. I can't live like that. So here I am, alone again. Just me.” There was a long silence after she made her brief speech, and she was waiting for a barrage of “I told you so”s, and instead Jane leaned over and touched the cast on her wrist. By then, the stitches had been taken out, and the wound on her hand had healed. There was only a small scar to show for it, which was nothing compared to the condition of her heart. She felt as though it had been shattered.

“The paparazzi broke your wrist?” Jane said in disbelief. She looked both sympathetic and stunned.

“Not intentionally. I was getting out of a gondola at the dock at the Gritti, and one of them grabbed my ankle and tried to yank me back, so I fell back into the boat headfirst, and when I tried to break my fall, I cut my hand and broke my wrist. They ambushed us leaving a restaurant before that and smashed my back into a wall. We finally made it to the gondola, they jumped in with us, and nearly overturned the boat. There were about thirty of them and they followed us in three motoscafi, and then tried to keep us from getting out of the boat. It was pretty nasty.”

“Are you kidding?” Jane said in astonishment. “What I meant was that they would follow you around and invade your privacy, and you're such a private person, I knew you would hate that. I never meant that they were going to beat the crap out of you, smash you into walls, try to knock you out of boats, cut you up, and break bones. Where was Leslie in all that?” She wanted to know if