“Why do you want to take Lake away from me?”
“Didn’t you promise to do the same to me? Don’t act as if you don’t want to fight me for him.”
The server chooses this moment to bring the wine. We remain silent as we both watch him pour the burgundy liquid into the glasses. After he’s gone, Damien picks his glass, swirls it, and takes a sip. “To be honest, I wanted to when you first learnedabout Lake. I wanted to take him away from you. I wanted to be the only one to raise him. To do you what you did to me. You’re not exactly the kind of person I would have thought would be a good mother, but I have to say, after staying with you for the last couple of days, I’ve—” His gaze rests on mine. “I’ve changed my mind somewhat.”
My eyes narrow. “What game are you playing at?”
“One where Lake has both parents. There’s no need for us to fight.”
“You want joint custody?” I don’t mind that at all, actually. Many parents have shared custody, and it seems to work fine. Now that I have money of my own, I can move closer to Damien, so we don’t have to live too far apart.
“I want us to stay as we are right now. As husband and wife. We don’t have to divorce.”
It’s my turn to take a sip of the wine. My fingers tremble slightly as I hold the stem. This is what I wanted. What I dreamed of all those years when I took care of Lake all by myself. What I dreamed of before Lake. When I was young and naïve. But now that it was in my hands, it felt cold. He wants Lake, not me. He wants to give Lake a stable home, and who am I to deny my son that?
“How long do we have to keep up the charade? Five years? Until Lake is eighteen? You hate me so much you call me Poison. You don’t want to live with me that long.”
He shrugs. “You’re tolerable.”
“And what about other women? I doubt a playboy like you can tolerate a cold bed. I don’t want you teaching my son that he can cheat on his wife.”
“We can satisfy each other’s needs in that department.”
My breath catches in my throat. The restaurant shrinks to this table. To just the two of us. I gaze into his eyes. He’s serious. He wants me? “I thought you hate me.”
“You are very tolerable when it comes to…” He let the sentence hang in the air. His gaze turns hot and sears my clothes off. He’s stripping me down with his eyes and I have never felt so naked while so fully clothed. Heat pools at my center as images of Damien pleasuring me on that big bed of his flicker in my mind’s eye.
The server arrives with the first course and during the entire time the server puts the plates onto the table, Damien’s gaze never wanders. Not even to the visual feast in front of us. When the server leaves, I clear my throat. “You’re not thinking this through.”
“You don’t get it, do you? I want to be with Lake as much as I can. Sharing custody is out of the question, and so is taking his mother away from him. I think I can handle what? Eleven years of being your husband for his sake.”
“Thanks for the ringing endorsement.”
“I mean, you’re a shit person but a competent mother. It’s life’s greatest mysteries.”
“Way to start a marriage.”
His gaze softens. “I’m sorry about that. I won’t call you Poison Ivy. How about that?”
It’s a small concession, but I take it. Having both of us around to raise Lake will be better for him. And besides, what harm is there in Lake having his father around?
“Eleven years is a long time to be in a fake marriage.”
“I thought you said you don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Is this your way of punishing me? Taking all my best dating years so that after ten years of being together, no one will want me?”
“I’m trying to do what’s best for my son.”
I stare into his eyes. There are no lies hidden behind those gray pools. He’s telling the truth. It’s not as if there’s anyone I want to be with, anyway. When I was a teenager, I was obsessedwith one man, Damien. And in the eight years he’s been out of my life, I haven’t been in a serious relationship. Most have been single dates except Brad, who hung around longer than he needed to, hoping I would relent and make him my boyfriend. That didn’t work.
“Fine,” I say. He cracks a small smile, which he quickly wipes away. It’s as if I saw a side of him that wants me. Ridiculous notion. We both turn our attention to the food. Great freaking food, I have to admit. The entrée is just as delicious and artistically presented as the first course, and by the time dessert arrives, Damien and I are talking like old friends. Mostly it’s him asking me about my friends or people who used to be my friends. I’ve lost contact with most of them, but I have enough information on a few to carry a conversation.
After we’re done eating, Damien takes me to another store. This one is on the same side of Paris where the restaurant is. The fancy side. It’s a jewelry store. I don’t know much, but I can tell the pieces in this store are expensive from the service alone. A man in a well-cut black suit and white gloves greets us in both English and French.
“We are looking for a ring,” Damien says.
“For the mademoiselle? An engagement ring, yes?”
