The next day she was still walking on air, floating a foot above the ground as she remembered the softness of Altair’s voice as he’d talked about his home, the confidence with which he’d assured her of his commitment to the relationship they were building.
She had an event that afternoon and was getting ready to go, and she was already thinking about texting Altair in the car on the way there. Linda was there to watch Chloe, who was doing homework at the kitchen island. Heather was in the middle of putting in her earrings when the doorbell rang. Her mother intercepted her on the way to the door.
"I'll get it," Heather tried to say quickly, but Linda's hand was already on the lock.
"Don't be silly. I've got it." Linda brushed her off as she opened the door, and then she froze when she saw who was on the other side.
Craig was thirty, the same as Heather, though he didn't wear it as well. He'd never bought into Heather's healthy eating and exercise plan. He’d been attractive once, but it was slowly wearing off as his hair thinned and his gut expanded. He was blond and blue eyed, and his smile was deceptively charming. He had the kind of all-American, easy charisma of a cowboy in a cigarette ad.
"Oh." There was audible derision in Linda's voice as she stepped back. "It's for you."
Heather sighed and took her mother's place at the door. Linda lingered behind her, casting dirty looks at Craig. After a moment, Chloe joined her.
"Good to see you again too, Linda," Craig said with a tight smile that eased as he looked at Heather. "Hey, honey. You look great."
"What are you doing here, Craig?" Heather asked, getting to the point. "I haven't seen you in a month—since you ran off with Jacki."
Craig didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. He tried to placate her with a cheesy grin as he ducked his head bashfully like he was an eight-year-old she'd caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Aw, honey, you know that was a mistake," Craig said. "Things had just been so tense with us, what with you being so mad at me and working all the time, and Jacki had this big plan to move out to California and start a grow-op. I let temptation get the better of me, baby, but I'm here on my knees apologizing now, so you've gotta forgive me."
"She don't 'gotta' do anything," Chloe said.
"That sorry excuse for an apology would count for a lot more if you hadn't made this same 'mistake' about a dozen times," Linda added, unimpressed.
Craig's face turned red with anger at the jabs, and he drew himself up to respond.
“What do you want, Craig?” Heather asked, cutting him off.
“Can’t a man just want to visit his girlfriend?” Craig said.
“I’m not your girlfriend, Craig.” Heather hunched her shoulders, her eyes on the floor. “You left me.”
“And I’m here trying to fix things,” Craig said. “So just stop being so stubborn and let me in. We’ll talk it out.”
“We will not.” Linda pushed in front of Heather, squaring off against the two-hundred-pound man like she had no doubt about her ability to knock him to the ground if she needed to. “You had your chance and a few more than you should have on top of that. Get lost.”
“Mom,” Heather said, flustered and embarrassed. “I can handle this.”
“You’ve let this weasel sweet talk his way back into your life too many times already,” Linda said. “Clearly, you can’t. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Are you going to let your mother push you around like this?” Craig asked over Linda’s shoulder.
“Just go, Craig,” Heather said, afraid her neighbors were going to notice the scene.
“You heard her.” Linda drew herself up to her full five feet four inches to pin Craig with a steely glare. “Scram, dirtbag.”
Craig looked like he was considering pushing it, but then he cursed and stepped back.
“Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll talk later, Heather. Evening, Linda.”
He tipped his hat to Heather’s mother sarcastically and turned his back on them, skulking away down the hall. Linda didn’t close the door until she saw him get in the elevator.
“I could have handled that, Mom,” Heather said, humiliated. “I wouldn’t have let him in.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Linda asked, raising a delicately arched eyebrow as she dusted off her hands like she’d just finished a particularly dirty chore. “How many times have you said you were done with that man only to let him sweet talk his way back in?”
“Mom.” Heather hid her face in her hands, frustrated. “That’s not the point.”
“You’re a sweet, obliging girl, Heather,” her mother said, taking her hand and patting it affectionately. “That’s how I raised you, and I love you just how you are. But it’s put you at a decided disadvantage when dealing with scumbag men. That’s why I’m here to help.”
Heather sighed and let it go, accepting that she couldn’t win against her mother. She waited a little longer to be sure Craig had left before she snuck out to go to work. The thought of Craig lurking around her apartment, let alone succeeding in goading her into another relationship with him, sank her mood thoroughly for the rest of the day. Her nightly call with Altair remained a bright spot, however. It was a star shining at the end of a dark, unpleasant tunnel.
Finally, her work finished, she packed up and headed home, dragging herself in at around three in the morning. The apartment was dark and quiet except for the low murmuring of the TV. Her mother was asleep on the sofa in front of soap opera reruns, and Chloe was in bed. She stood there for a moment, relishing in the peace and the presence of her family. There was a kind of happiness in knowing they were nearby and safe. She threw a blanket over Linda and checked on Chloe, kissing her daughter’s forehead gently. She ditched her shoes and her chef’s coat in her room and grabbed a bag of chips from the kitchen. Then she snuck out to the terrace with her phone.
“You still awake?” she texted Altair.
He texted back almost immediately. “Just got out of a show. Five minutes.”
She sat down at the patio table and opened her bag of chips to wait, yawning as she looked out at the night cityscape, which glittered with a million lights like diamonds scattered on black cloth. Sure, in the city you couldn’t see the stars, but as far as spectacles went, this view was a pretty close second.
A few minutes later, her phone rang, and she put aside her chips, answering after only the second ring.
“Hey, night owl,” she said fondly. “What are you doing up so late?”
“The same thing as you, I’m certain,” Altair said with a small laugh.
“Work is going to kill both of us,” Heather declared.
“We should both work less,” Altair said.
Heather sighed. “I can’t. I have a kid to put through college. What’s your excuse?”
“It used to be that I couldn’t think of anything better to do,” Altair said. “Lately, however, I keep thinking about how I’d rather be with you.”
Heather smiled, her heart fluttering as she leaned against the table. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
“Do you have anything planned for this weekend?” he asked.
“Nothing I can’t move,” Heather said at once.
“We could do something together,” Altair said, sounding excited. “All three of us, if you like. When’s the last time you took Chloe to the zoo?”
“Ages ago.” Heather smiled, leaning back to put her feet on the table. “She’d love that. She already thinks you’re incredible.”
Altair chuckled. “I worry that’s only because she still thinks I’m a prince from one of her stories. She might lose interest when she realizes I don’t have a fairy godmother.”
“I’m pretty sure your fashion chops alone are enough to keep her interest,” Heather said. “But seriously, she’s the harshest critic of everyone I date. That she approves of you means a lot.”
“Then I shall have to work harder to continue winning her approval,” Altair said, amused.
“I can’t wait till this weekend,” Heather said with a yawn. “I can’t wait to see the otters. They’re my favorite.”
“We should both probably get some rest,” Altair said, noting her yawn.
“No. I can stay up another hour,” Heather said, fighting another yawn. “I’ve been looking forward to talking to you all day.”
“So have I,” Altair said. “All right, another hour. Then we both need to sleep.”
“So how was your event?” Heather asked, pleased even as she rubbed at her tired eyes. “Were you in this show?”
“No. It was someone else’s,” he said. “I had to attend for networking reasons. If you’re not photographed at a certain number of these things each month, everyone forgets your name.”
“Sounds exhausting,” Heather murmured, leaning her chin on her arms.
“Probably not as exhausting as having to model for all those shows,” Altair said. “That’s what you were doing tonight, right?”
Heather groaned before she could stop herself. No, she’d been catering a wedding, feeding a couple hundred cranky family members while they complained loudly about the food, the cake, the decorations, and the bride’s dress. Neither family had seemed like one she’d want to be part of come Christmastime, but the bride and groom had seemed happy together at least.
“That bad, huh?” Altair said.
“A nightmare.” Heather shook her head, not wanting to think about the lie and how much she needed to tell him the truth. “Let’s talk about your thing instead.”
“It was for a fellow designer I’m close to,” Altair said. “Marie Larue.”
“Oh, I’ve seen her handbags in the department stores,” Heather said. “Expensive.”
“Worth it,” Altair assured her. “She’s an incredibly innovative designer, and her work is impeccably made. She makes the first editions herself in her studio here in the city, and the skill in every stitch is remarkable.”
“I assume she wasn’t doing handbags tonight, though?” Heather asked.
“Handbags are where she makes the most of her money,” Altair said, “but her passion is haute couture—high-concept editorial evening wear. Beautiful pieces. Actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“About what?” Heather asked a bit groggily, struggling to keep her eyes open.
“Ah, never mind,” Altair said. “I’ll tell you about it in person tomorrow. But I think you may like it.”
“I like pretty much anything coming from you,” Heather said. She was a bit loopy from lack of sleep. “I’ve never met anyone as good as you at making me smile.”
“You should go to bed,” Altair said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You only get this direct when you’re about to doze off.”
“I’m not.” Heather yawned, her eyes closing.
“If you fall asleep on that terrace again, you’re going to get sick,” Altair said. “Go inside at least. We can text until you fall asleep.”
“All right.” Heather gave in, yawning so tremendously her jaw popped. “Only because I don’t want to be run-down during our date this weekend.”
“If you don’t fall asleep as soon as you hit the pillow, I’ll text you in a minute,” Altair said. “Good night, Heather.”
“Good night, Altair.”