“A girl can’t always be demanding, you know?” Laurie laughed at herself as she parked her Ford Edge just around the corner from Caffe Italia. Stepping from the car, she glanced around the neighborhood as an unbidden shiver traveled down her spine. Wow. Not looking so good since my last visit. Maybe I should have insisted Gerry come home from Albany to get me, after all. Shaking her head, Laurie wasted no time considering the frailty of the urban neighborhood and quickly headed to the front door, her heels tapping on the concrete sidewalk.
Walking through the entrance she released her breath and smiled at the maître d’. “Hi. I believe my husband made reservations. The last name is Billings.”
“Yes madam. We seated him moments ago.” With a very slight nod of his head for her to follow, the aging man moved to a table along the wall where her incredibly handsome husband rose from his chair to greet her.
Laurie thanked the waiter and turned to Gerry. “Hi babe.” Their lips touched briefly for a very chaste kiss. He’d told her years ago that he wasn’t comfortable with PDA and rarely touched her outside of their own house. She slid into the proffered chair and waited for him to sit.
“You look lovely in that dress. Is it new?”
She felt her cheeks flush at his words while her brain tumbled back many years to how frequently he used to compliment her. Has it been that long? Shaking her head, she returned to the present and the man she had spent nearly two decades with. “Thank you. Um, no. It’s not new. But I bought it right before the pandemic, so you probably haven’t seen it.”
A waiter approached the table and offered a bottle of wine for Gerry’s inspection. After her husband nodded his head in approval, the young man stepped back from the table to open the bottle.
She felt Gerry lightly touch her hand as it rested on the white linen cloth. “I hope you don’t mind; I took the liberty of ordering the wine. I never know how much time I’ll have before getting called back to the hospital. That’s why I asked you to meet me here, rather than my going home to pick you up.”
“That’s fine.” Laurie looked at her hand, barely visible under his much larger one.
His saved bodies, specifically backs.
Hers? What superpowers did her hands have as an RN? No one had ever asked her—they only wanted to know about Gerry and his sexy career as an orthopedist. No one ever asked her about the patients she saw almost daily. The frightened people who seemed to relax under her comforting touch as she washed their tender, private areas or spread lotion on their aging skin and told them stories about her life with horses and dogs. She always wanted her patients to feel like they were meeting her for coffee and not facing their worst fears in an uncomfortable hospital bed. Her hands treated them with respect and dignity—not like they were a means to her paycheck.
“Laurie, are you all right?” Gerry’s deep voice caused her to look at his eyes. Deep brown orbs with the longest lashes on the planet. Proving once again that men so often get better eyelashes than women. A cruel joke if one didn’t like to apply makeup.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking for a moment.” She gave a brief glance at the waiter approaching their table and then back at her husband.
“Do you know what you’re having?”
“Yes, thanks.”
He turned to the young man and directed him to Laurie.
“I’ll have the lasagna, please. And a large glass of plain seltzer with lime.” She smiled gracefully. “Thank you.”
“Stuffed shells please.” Gerry’s tone sounded dismissive of the waiter.
“We haven’t been out to eat in quite a while. Is there a special occasion I’ve forgotten?” She saw her husband’s eyes flash for a very brief moment before a rough chuckle left his lips.
“Nope, not that I can think of. You know how it is with us. Between my practice, surgeries, and on-call, and your twelve-hour shifts and then all the barn work, when do we have time to talk?”
Laurie laughed. “Oh, it’s not that bad. We’re here now. We can chat to your heart’s content.”
To her surprise, they spent the next fifteen minutes covering mundane topics such as the weather, the status of the local water table, the upcoming Fourth of July celebrations and the big Valatie wedding of the Chief of Police, Luke Taylor, to Robin Singer happening in August.
“How many mares do you have bred for this year?”
Gerry’s question surprised her. “Just two. I’d like to get last year’s yearlings started under saddle so I can advertise them.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Someone will buy them.”
Laurie looked at him before answering. “Fingers crossed. Are you playing golf this weekend?”
“Strictly depends on the weather. We have a foursome ready, but thunderstorms tend to put a damper on the action.” He chuckled.
When it seemed as though they had run out of “catch up” topics, steaming plates of pasta and marinera sauce arrived, halting any conversation until the waiter left the table.
“I know this might sound like a crazy question, but are you happy?” Gerry poked at his food, not looking at her.
“What do you mean? And what are you doing with your pasta, anyway?” She willed her voice to remain steady as panic surged throughout her body.
“It just seems crazy. We’ve been working our assess off since the day we met. Each of us pushing toward our respective dreams.”
“That’s true. Building careers is a tricky dance for two professionals. We certainly don’t spend time together like we used to.” She leaned back in her chair, arms folded across her chest, waiting for him to respond.
“I know.” Gerry stared at his dinner. “Our marriage has lost it’s fun.” He raised his line of sight and looked directly at her. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“What are you saying? You want me to make changes? Get rid of the horses? Sell the stable? What?”
“No. I don’t want you to do any of those things.” His gaze dropped to the table for a moment and then returned to her face. “I want a divorce.”
“Gerry. What is going on?” Laurie knew her voice was trembling, but she couldn’t control it. “Is there someone else?” She closed her eyes a moment, hoping the entire conversation would disappear.
“Yes.”
Her lids flew open at his admission.
“I don’t love you anymore, Laurie. I’m in love with Tiffany.”
“Your assistant? Isn’t she like twelve years old?” She knew she sounded like a wounded bitch, but she didn’t care. “I have bras that are older than her.”
“Come on, Laurie. Give it a rest. She’s thirty-one. And we’re expecting.”
A baby? For years he told me we had to wait until the time was right. Then it was when his practice was solid, the mortgage was well on the way to being paid off, and we were done traveling the world. But he elected to have a baby with his assistant?
She stared at his handsome, tan face as the dagger of betrayal slowly pierced her heart. She had always loved his jaw line, so strong and aristocratic. Gerry Billings was tall and muscular, his curly black hair wild in the wind but soft to the touch. His strong hands would lift her up so she could straddle his hips, always leading them to an intense intimacy, something she had missed of late. Laurie thought of the petite blonde who came into their lives five years before to manage his office. The very idea of that woman riding her husband and then pretending to be friends with her whenever she was in the office made Laurie want to vomit.
Without taking her eyes off his face, she rose from the table clasping her black clutch in her left hand. Standing next to the table in silence, her right hand clenched with rage. She admired his patrician nose for a moment before plowing her fist into it. Within seconds his big body fell backward, his arms pinwheeling to save himself as the chair crashed to the cold ceramic tile, his head landing with a deep thump.
She looked down at his inert form while the room full of patrons exploded with a gasp. Laurie slid her clutch under her elbow, pulled her wedding rings off her left hand, and dropped them onto the crisply starched, blood-splattered surface of his oxford and walked away.
Placing one foot directly in front of the other, she gave the room full of twittering diners a good show with her swaying hips as she crossed to the door. Mere feet from her exit, chaos ensued—people demanded she do something. Without so much as a backward glance, she held her right hand high, throbbing knuckles and all, her middle finger extended, before announcing “Call someone who cares.” A maniacal laugh escaped her lips. “Try Tiffany."
Walking through the entrance she released her breath and smiled at the maître d’. “Hi. I believe my husband made reservations. The last name is Billings.”
“Yes madam. We seated him moments ago.” With a very slight nod of his head for her to follow, the aging man moved to a table along the wall where her incredibly handsome husband rose from his chair to greet her.
Laurie thanked the waiter and turned to Gerry. “Hi babe.” Their lips touched briefly for a very chaste kiss. He’d told her years ago that he wasn’t comfortable with PDA and rarely touched her outside of their own house. She slid into the proffered chair and waited for him to sit.
“You look lovely in that dress. Is it new?”
She felt her cheeks flush at his words while her brain tumbled back many years to how frequently he used to compliment her. Has it been that long? Shaking her head, she returned to the present and the man she had spent nearly two decades with. “Thank you. Um, no. It’s not new. But I bought it right before the pandemic, so you probably haven’t seen it.”
A waiter approached the table and offered a bottle of wine for Gerry’s inspection. After her husband nodded his head in approval, the young man stepped back from the table to open the bottle.
She felt Gerry lightly touch her hand as it rested on the white linen cloth. “I hope you don’t mind; I took the liberty of ordering the wine. I never know how much time I’ll have before getting called back to the hospital. That’s why I asked you to meet me here, rather than my going home to pick you up.”
“That’s fine.” Laurie looked at her hand, barely visible under his much larger one.
His saved bodies, specifically backs.
Hers? What superpowers did her hands have as an RN? No one had ever asked her—they only wanted to know about Gerry and his sexy career as an orthopedist. No one ever asked her about the patients she saw almost daily. The frightened people who seemed to relax under her comforting touch as she washed their tender, private areas or spread lotion on their aging skin and told them stories about her life with horses and dogs. She always wanted her patients to feel like they were meeting her for coffee and not facing their worst fears in an uncomfortable hospital bed. Her hands treated them with respect and dignity—not like they were a means to her paycheck.
“Laurie, are you all right?” Gerry’s deep voice caused her to look at his eyes. Deep brown orbs with the longest lashes on the planet. Proving once again that men so often get better eyelashes than women. A cruel joke if one didn’t like to apply makeup.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking for a moment.” She gave a brief glance at the waiter approaching their table and then back at her husband.
“Do you know what you’re having?”
“Yes, thanks.”
He turned to the young man and directed him to Laurie.
“I’ll have the lasagna, please. And a large glass of plain seltzer with lime.” She smiled gracefully. “Thank you.”
“Stuffed shells please.” Gerry’s tone sounded dismissive of the waiter.
“We haven’t been out to eat in quite a while. Is there a special occasion I’ve forgotten?” She saw her husband’s eyes flash for a very brief moment before a rough chuckle left his lips.
“Nope, not that I can think of. You know how it is with us. Between my practice, surgeries, and on-call, and your twelve-hour shifts and then all the barn work, when do we have time to talk?”
Laurie laughed. “Oh, it’s not that bad. We’re here now. We can chat to your heart’s content.”
To her surprise, they spent the next fifteen minutes covering mundane topics such as the weather, the status of the local water table, the upcoming Fourth of July celebrations and the big Valatie wedding of the Chief of Police, Luke Taylor, to Robin Singer happening in August.
“How many mares do you have bred for this year?”
Gerry’s question surprised her. “Just two. I’d like to get last year’s yearlings started under saddle so I can advertise them.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Someone will buy them.”
Laurie looked at him before answering. “Fingers crossed. Are you playing golf this weekend?”
“Strictly depends on the weather. We have a foursome ready, but thunderstorms tend to put a damper on the action.” He chuckled.
When it seemed as though they had run out of “catch up” topics, steaming plates of pasta and marinera sauce arrived, halting any conversation until the waiter left the table.
“I know this might sound like a crazy question, but are you happy?” Gerry poked at his food, not looking at her.
“What do you mean? And what are you doing with your pasta, anyway?” She willed her voice to remain steady as panic surged throughout her body.
“It just seems crazy. We’ve been working our assess off since the day we met. Each of us pushing toward our respective dreams.”
“That’s true. Building careers is a tricky dance for two professionals. We certainly don’t spend time together like we used to.” She leaned back in her chair, arms folded across her chest, waiting for him to respond.
“I know.” Gerry stared at his dinner. “Our marriage has lost it’s fun.” He raised his line of sight and looked directly at her. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“What are you saying? You want me to make changes? Get rid of the horses? Sell the stable? What?”
“No. I don’t want you to do any of those things.” His gaze dropped to the table for a moment and then returned to her face. “I want a divorce.”
“Gerry. What is going on?” Laurie knew her voice was trembling, but she couldn’t control it. “Is there someone else?” She closed her eyes a moment, hoping the entire conversation would disappear.
“Yes.”
Her lids flew open at his admission.
“I don’t love you anymore, Laurie. I’m in love with Tiffany.”
“Your assistant? Isn’t she like twelve years old?” She knew she sounded like a wounded bitch, but she didn’t care. “I have bras that are older than her.”
“Come on, Laurie. Give it a rest. She’s thirty-one. And we’re expecting.”
A baby? For years he told me we had to wait until the time was right. Then it was when his practice was solid, the mortgage was well on the way to being paid off, and we were done traveling the world. But he elected to have a baby with his assistant?
She stared at his handsome, tan face as the dagger of betrayal slowly pierced her heart. She had always loved his jaw line, so strong and aristocratic. Gerry Billings was tall and muscular, his curly black hair wild in the wind but soft to the touch. His strong hands would lift her up so she could straddle his hips, always leading them to an intense intimacy, something she had missed of late. Laurie thought of the petite blonde who came into their lives five years before to manage his office. The very idea of that woman riding her husband and then pretending to be friends with her whenever she was in the office made Laurie want to vomit.
Without taking her eyes off his face, she rose from the table clasping her black clutch in her left hand. Standing next to the table in silence, her right hand clenched with rage. She admired his patrician nose for a moment before plowing her fist into it. Within seconds his big body fell backward, his arms pinwheeling to save himself as the chair crashed to the cold ceramic tile, his head landing with a deep thump.
She looked down at his inert form while the room full of patrons exploded with a gasp. Laurie slid her clutch under her elbow, pulled her wedding rings off her left hand, and dropped them onto the crisply starched, blood-splattered surface of his oxford and walked away.
Placing one foot directly in front of the other, she gave the room full of twittering diners a good show with her swaying hips as she crossed to the door. Mere feet from her exit, chaos ensued—people demanded she do something. Without so much as a backward glance, she held her right hand high, throbbing knuckles and all, her middle finger extended, before announcing “Call someone who cares.” A maniacal laugh escaped her lips. “Try Tiffany."
