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Smiling, she replies, “If you insist. How was your trip by the way? Did you and Steven enjoy the resort? It looked so romantic!”
“Steven actually couldn’t come. But it was very relaxing. Just what I needed. Thanks for asking.”
She nods and leaves me to my lies. I don’t feel good about anything I’m doing lately. Ever since I found out about Steven’s affair I’ve turned into someone I don’t recognize. It makes me sick, and I have to figure out a way to change it. I just don’t know how.
Moments later, as I am reading through the research Rachel put together on Cash, Marion walks in wearing a red cashmere dress which stands out brightly against her white hair. She has the type of beauty where even as she ages with dignity one would question her age. Her skin is smooth, likely a result of copious amounts of sunscreen whether she’s on vacation or walking through the city. Her hair is cut in a stylish bob, but it is all a silverish white. The hair hanging over her face is slightly longer than the back.
Her light-blue eyes study my office, as if she’s taking stock of every inch. Is it tidy enough? Unlike Marion, I am not impeccably perfect, in looks or in life. I’ve only ever had one picture of Steven in the office, and it pains me to see her staring at it.
Our wedding photo.
What a fool I’d been, believing we had the kind of magic that Marion came to expect from her love connections.
“How is everything in the apartment?” she asks, as she moves her eyes from my wedding picture to me. I watch as she studies my face and wonder if she can see my nervousness, my sorrow, and my pain at a failed marriage at the ripe age of thirty-six.
“It’s wonderful. Thank you so much. I’ll start looking for places of my own this week.” The words leave my mouth before I can think about how they sound. Why would I be looking for a place long-term after I just spent a fortune to remodel my dream home in the suburbs? “I mean…” I falter for an explanation.
Marion levels me with a stare. “Stay at the apartment as long as you need. Have I ever told you why I bought that apartment?”
Marion sits in one of the purple velvet seats across from my desk. They were a gift from her after my first year working here. She took me to a boutique shop and told me to pick out new furniture for my office.
“A professional woman needs a professional office, and you, Sweets, have what it takes to go far in my business.”
I’d been blown away at the time. The furniture was more than my monthly salary, and I’d never imagined that I’d become a professional matchmaker. But Marion always believed in me.
“No, I just assumed it was because of your late nights with clients.”
Marion crosses her legs, and the sweater dress hikes up over her knee, revealing toned legs. Even at sixty-five, Marion could turn heads. She probably still worked out daily. I should use the gym in her apartment now that I have to go back out into the dating scene.
Men in their thirties expect a certain look. Oh God, what if I have to date men in their forties instead? I mean men in their thirties want twenty-somethings. Just the thought of dating turns my stomach. And then my mind turns to Cash. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the few extra pounds I have. There had been plenty of twenty-year-old women walking around the resort in tiny bikinis, and Cash never batted an eye in their direction. He’d been completely transfixed with me. To a point that made my insides squeeze tight.
“Asher and I separated.”
I can’t contain my gasp. “What? When?”
Marion shakes her head. “No, Sweets, not now. When we were younger. He wanted a certain kind of wife—or so he thought—and I wasn’t going to change for anyone. I told him to take time to figure out what he wanted. But while he was doing that I wasn’t going to sit around in our house and twiddle my thumbs. I bought myself an apartment, moved to the city full-time, and lived my life as I wanted.”
“Marion, I…I had no idea. Asher’s crazy about you. What happened?”
Marion laughs. “He followed me to the city and told me he’d made a mistake. The day after I left.”
I smile. That sounds more like the Asher I know. “So you took him back and kept the apartment?”
A sly smile crosses her face, and she’s quiet for a moment. “No. I told him he should go home. I told him to date the kind of woman he thought he wanted, someone who would have his babies, raise his children, and cook him dinner every night. In the meantime, I was going to date as well. I had a few dalliances, and I assume Asher did too. We didn’t talk during that time. I told him to take six months, and if he felt differently after our time apart, we would talk.”
The idea of Marion sleeping with men other than Asher blew my mind. Setting him free to do the same and having no concern that he would come back—only a woman with as much confidence as Marion could do that. “So, what happened?”
“On the six-month mark, to the day, he showed up at the apartment, at midnight, with a suitcase, a bottle of our favorite red wine, and an engagement ring. I remember I heard the doorbell ring, opened it up to find Asher on both his knees, and he looked up at me and said he didn’t want to live another moment without me. He wanted my life, Boston, the suburbs, whatever I wanted, that’s what he wanted. All that mattered was us. I took him back on the spot and we never looked back. We don’t speak about the six-month break; we both knew we needed it. And we kept the apartment.”
I smile imagining the entire scenario, not surprised at all. “Why are you telling me this?”
Marion lets out a long sigh. “I know you, Grace. Asher and I love you like a daughter. You are the only child we’ve ever had. I want to give you what I had. What Asher had. A place to become who you’re meant to be, or to realize where home is, and what that term even means to you. You don’t need to tell me what is going on with you and Steven; the apartment is yours, without question.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying. I want to tell Marion everything. I want to collapse into her comfort. But I want the promotion more.
If she knows that I married a cheater—that I missed all the signs—why would she ever turn her business over to me? If I have that bad of a radar when it comes to my own love life, why would she trust me with others? It’s better that she thinks we are just taking a breather like she did. Because as much as her situation may mirror what I am going through, it’s not the same.
She walked away from Asher and stood on her own two feet. I on the other hand got kicked out of my own marriage without even realizing it.
