Impossible

Daylight streaming into Sasha's room at Claridge's awakened her and Liam at nine the next morning. He woke first, and lay holding her. And then, as though she sensed him watching her, she stirred. She could feel his arms around her, as he lay behind her, and for a minute, she didn't know who it was. And then she remembered. She closed her eyes and groaned.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said softly, and pulled her closer to him. She rolled over slowly and looked at him. They were nearly nose to nose, and he looked as beautiful to her in the morning as he had the night before. Her heart sank as their eyes met. She couldn't believe what she'd done. Just seeing him there, naked and handsome, with his long blond hair on his shoulders, his body warm next to hers, she knew she had lost her mind.

“This didn't happen,” she said firmly. But she couldn't bring herself to get up, or pull away from him. Everything about him made her want him even more.

“Yes, it did.” He laughed as he said it, looking enormously pleased with himself, and she thought she had never seen a man as beautiful as he was.

“We can't do this, Liam. It's impossible.” And it would never be any different. He would always be nine years younger than she was, which bothered her, no matter how little it bothered him, and he was an artist she represented. Even if she refused to represent him, he would still be too young, in her opinion. The age difference was more a matter of his state of mind and boyishness than the dates on their passports. And she couldn't refuse to represent him just because she'd been a fool. And an old fool at that. She felt like one now. She'd been starved for love, companionship, and affection, even sex. But that was no excuse for what she'd done. She was furious with herself, and even slightly with him. But not furious enough to get out of bed. Now, or the night before.

“It's not impossible, unless you want it to be. You said that last night, right before we made love the second time.”

“I was nuts. I plead temporary insanity,” she said, rolling over onto her back and looking up at the ceiling, to avoid looking at him. It felt so good to just lie there next to him, and feel like a woman again. But it was forbidden fruit she knew she couldn't allow herself to eat again. “Do you have any idea how crazy this is?” she asked, turning her face to look at him. His eyes were green and enormous, his face nearly perfect, but just imperfect enough to make him look like a man. He looked like an actor in a sexy movie. He needed a young starlet to costar in it with him, not a woman her age. She knew it, even if he didn't, or didn't want to. She knew it for both of them.

“It isn't crazy, Sasha. You're a woman, I'm a man. We like each other, we're both lonely. We have the same interests, we both live for art. What's so wrong with that?”

“Everything. I look, and feel, old enough to be your mother. You're a friend of my son's. I represent you. How's that for a start? And besides, you're still in love with your wife.” She hadn't doubted it for a minute the night before, as he told her the story of Beth and her evil twin.

“You do not look old enough to be my mother. You're a spectacular-looking woman, and you're only nine years older than I am. So fucking what? And I am not in love with my wife, anymore. Besides, she's no longer my wife. We're getting divorced. You and I are both free, unattached, lonely as hell, and over twenty-one. That sounds possible to me. What's your problem?” He looked mildly annoyed.

“I'm still in love with my husband,” she said sadly, but she didn't cry this time. Liam waited for a moment before he answered, and he touched her face gently with one finger when he did.

“Sasha, he's gone. You're alive, he's not.” She had proved that amply to both of them the night before.

“You have a right to be happy with someone. Me, or someone else. You can't hide yourself away anymore. It's not right.”

“Yes, I can.” She rolled over and turned her back to him, and still did not get out of bed. He couldn't see if she was crying, but he put his arms around her anyway, and pulled her close.

“Sasha, I know this sounds crazy. I hardly know you, but I think I love you. I feel like I've been waiting for you all my life.”

“That's insane,” she muttered, still turned away from him. But something of what he said rang true, even to her, although it made no sense. “We drank too much. It wasn't love, it was wine.” She tried to dismiss what had happened, but convinced neither him nor herself.

“Well, whatever it is, I want more of it. Why can't you just let this happen and see where it goes?” He was pleading with her.