“I would prefer you didn’t.” Before she could choose the words to her reply, he rephrased, “It would not be publically acceptable, so the answer is no.”
Trying to keep her voice low, “I’m telling you, not asking your permission.”
“This is not debatable.”
“Then what is?” She leaned across the table as indignation infiltrated her words, “Why are we even here, discussing anything at all? If it is all predetermined, just lay out the ground rules.” She tried to keep her voice low and restrain her emotions. “That’s the way you operate. Things don’t change!” Moisture stung her eyes as tears threatened her facade of strength. She stared and waited for the explosion. Claire knew it wouldn’t be overt. Their location was too public, perhaps a whispered clandestine threat.
Although his eyes remained dark, the tips of Tony’s lips moved upward. He reached out and held the hands that lay on the table in front of him. “Yes, sexy as hell.”
Claire removed her hands, sat back against the chair, and pressed her lips together.
His tone lightened with a change of subject, “You know, I don’t think the cooler weather is good for you. You look pale. You need sun.”
“Thanks, I quite like the west coast.”
Tony watched, waiting for more outbursts. Finally he said, “I concede. Some things are debatable. I would make you move to Iowa if I could. Don’t get me wrong. It isn’t that I am incapable. It is that I want you there of your own free will. So that move is debatable.”
“Not debatable -- I’m not going.”
“Now you see. We each have issues where we don’t want to budge. Let’s discuss public events.”
Claire settled back and listened. Tony talked about the different public events and business trips he had scheduled in the near future. He offered transportation, private accommodations, and money to purchase appropriate attire. He also discussed acceptable behaviors while separated. In many ways it reminded Claire of sitting in his office, listening to the ground rules of living in his house. The memories made her feel uneasy. Slowly she felt her pulse increase and the temperature of the room increase. The breeze from the fan remained but was no longer refreshing.
It was then she noticed the food behind her. The man must have had an entire side of pork. His plate overflowed with bacon. The aroma filled the space around their table.
Although Tony was still talking and Claire had been attentively nodding, she abruptly stood. “Tony I can’t do this. I need to leave.”
His shock quickly morphed to irritation, “What?”
“No, not this – us. This – here. I need to go outside.” With that she grabbed her purse and walked briskly toward the door -- away from the mound of pork. Each step eased her discomfort. Nonetheless, it wasn’t until she stepped into the sunshine and felt the wind once again on her face that she could truly inhale.
Only steps behind her, Tony reached for her arm and spun her toward him. His expression changed immediately. The rage disappeared into a mixture of displeasure and concern. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know. I think I must have gotten food poisoning last night. How have you been feeling?”
“I feel fine. Is that what this just was, you not feeling well?”
“Yes, it was that bacon. It smelled horrid!”
Tony laughed. “I thought you liked bacon. Catherine used to have it for you all the time.”
Feeling better, Claire smiled, “I did. I do, I think. But I was ill this morning. That’s why I thought I might be late.”
Concern won the race on Tony’s rollercoaster of emotions. “You were ill? I could have come to you.”
Her eyes narrowed, “No. I don’t want you at Amber’s. It just isn’t right.”
“I’ve taken you to my friends. If that is truly your definition of Amber and her brother, what is the problem?”
There were so many things wrong. First his friends reminded Claire of Brent and Courtney, people whom, just this morning, she’d spent over a half hour talking with on the phone. Next, she thought of Tony with Simon’s fiancée. And lastly, Harry. At this moment she wasn’t sure how to define him. But having Harry and Tony together wouldn’t be good, no matter his definition.
“Are we done?” Claire asked.
“There are a few more things to discuss. How do you feel?”
“Better, the fresh air helps.”
“I saw a park not far away. Would you like to walk?”
Claire nodded. Truthfully she wanted to go home, but walking was better than staying in that cafe. Tony gently grasped her hand. Conceding the loss of her appendage, their fingers intertwined. The casual contact radiated familiar warmth through her body. They began walking toward Bridge Parkway. Across the small inlet they entered a haven of nature. Trees surrounded a large grassy plane with picnic tables and benches overlooking a lagoon. Scattered about were signs indicating a summer concert season. Everything pointed to warmer weather and blue skies for the future.
While they talked about their agreement, they also chatted -- not about anything in particular, just things. Surprisingly, it felt good and easy. As long as the conversation avoided Harry, Amber, and her incarceration, Claire found herself speaking without weighing each word. They laughed at children on the playground equipment and watched a man set-up a camp to fish in the lagoon.
Claire tried to remember the last time she’d spent such a normal day with her ex-husband. It had been a long time. When Tony looked at his watch and saw that it was after two, he asked Claire if she were up to eating lunch.