Eleven Years Ago

Eleven Years Ago

It was ten degrees outside.

Liam was waiting for her on the street corner. The windchill was below zero, the snow flurries relentless, but he would wait until she appeared. He'd just left a drinks meeting at the St. Regis, and he was feverish from his scotch and from the hope he would get to see her soon. He knew which subway she took from Midtown to her apartment. He waited by the stop near her office.

Until there she was: barreling toward him in a long trench coat and a cashmere knit hat, her curls flying out beneath it, her cheeks red from the frost.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked. "Trying to freeze to death?"

But she broke into a smile. She broke into a smile that seeped straight through his skin, the cold forgotten.

He smiled back at her. "Hello to you too."

"You look giddy."

"I missed you," he said.

"I've seen you."

"Not enough."

She shook her head. "How is that possible?"

That was how it was with them recently. Liam the one reaching for Cory, Cory mostly humoring him. There were reasons for that. Cory was coming up on a big wedding anniversary, and she and her husband were talking about spending a year in Paris. They could both work from there. They could also, more importantly, work on their marriage from there. Cory didn't tell Liam that this was the real purpose. She didn't have to tell him. They were going to stay in a friend's apartment in the 6th arrondissement and spend days at La Grande épicerie and go to London so she could see shows on the West End. Her husband would go with her. He would do whatever it took to try and keep her.

Liam knew this. Just as he knew that it wouldn't be forever. Of course it wouldn't. But it would mean, for a while, he could no longer stand outside the subway in the freezing cold. Just for a chance to surprise her.

He pulled the playbill out of his jacket, a set of tickets to The Goodbye Girl . A new revival. She looked down at the playbill in her hand, Neil Simon in large letters.

"You didn't," she said.

"Front-row seats."

"Is this my consolation prize on the eve of your third wedding?"

He laughed. What else was there to do? He was getting married again. Again, and maybe for the last time. Her name was Inez. She was younger than Liam by eighteen years, as though that was the detail that mattered. Here was a detail that mattered: making things official was important to her. Her mother was unwell. He knew Inez wanted her at their wedding while she could still be there. He also knew Inez really wanted children of her own. He wanted to do what mattered to her. She deserved that. There were many reasons that getting married was the right thing to do. Looking at Cory now, he could hardly remember them.

"I'm sorry I'll miss the wedding," she said.

"Are you?"

"Not really," she said. "Though I do like Inez. She's too good for you, to be honest."

"We're in agreement on that."

She linked her arm through his. And they fell into step, heading in the direction of the theater. Suddenly (and like usual) Cory being the one to lead the way.

"Doesn't change the fact that you should possibly consider stopping with the weddings," she said.

"Not a lot of faith that third time's the charm?" he asked.

"I don't make any judgments."

"Thank goodness that's not true."

"I'm just saying, you decided to do this pretty soon after you found out I was leaving the country with my family," she said. "Not to make this about me."

"Mostly everything is, so…"

She smiled at him.

"I've been honest with her about you," he said. "As honest as I can be."

"The can be is where my questions come in."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he felt her do it, take that small exhale. Something like relief. Something like happiness.

"Thank you for the tickets. I needed this today."

"Then you'll be glad to hear that I also have some contraband Junior Mints in my pocket," he said. "Since I know how you hate cutting it too close to the curtain."

"Twizzlers too?"

"Am I new here?"

He pulled the red candy out of his coat pocket, handed her the packet.

"Well," she said. "Now you're just showing off."