“I am,” she said, flashing her a huge grin. “Your party is already waiting. I’ve given you a private area so the two of you can talk.”
“You know all about this?”
“Oh yes, Beth and I worked together to set it up. The menu is already set, but Alicia will be by to take your drink order.”
Meghan led her to the back of the restaurant. It was early enough so that the dinner crowd had yet to arrive. The booths were high, so she didn’t see him until she was at the table.
Peter.
Unable to hold back her shock, Sunshine gasped. Her hand automatically flew to her heart, as if to protect it from the jolt of recognition.
To his credit, Peter looked equally stunned. His eyes widened, and all he seemed capable of doing was staring at her in complete and utter amazement.
And not in a good way.
Immediately he frowned and glared at her, as if the sight of her was as unwelcome as it was surprising.
“Sunshine,” he whispered after a moment, as if to confirm that it was really her.
“Peter.” She slid into the booth for the simple reason she wasn’t convinced her legs would continue to hold her upright.
For what seemed an interminable amount of time, all they seemed capable of doing was looking at each other. Peter had changed. He was nothing like she remembered. Thirty years ago he wore his hair long, mostly as a money-saving measure. When he couldn’t stand the thick strands flopping down and getting in his eyes, Sunshine had offered to cut it for him and he’d let her. It was an intimate task, and afterward they’d made love. Now he dressed in expensive business suits, his hair was trimmed and neat with streaks of gray. It was thinning, she noticed. His hands. His beautiful hands calloused and often nicked and cut were perfectly manicured now. He was a man of the world. It seemed the artist in him had completely vanished.
Sunshine liked to think there hadn’t been nearly as many changes in her, other than age. Her thick hair, salt-and-pepper-colored now, hung freely down the middle of her back, and she continued to wear the same long skirts and loose blouses she had while in art school.
“You arranged this?” he asked suspiciously.
“No. I’m afraid this is the work of my niece.”
He huffed. “Ellie’s child, no doubt. This trick is worthy of her mother. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Sunshine was tempted to defend Beth, but had yet to think clearly enough to gather her thoughts. She couldn’t seem to stop looking at Peter, yearning for evidence of the man she once knew.
The waitress sauntered up to the table. “What can I get you two lovebirds to drink?”
Peter’s head snapped toward the young woman. “We aren’t lovebirds, and I’ll have a scotch.”
Alicia blinked at his waspish tone.
“Make it a double. No ice.”
She made a note of it and turned to Sunshine. “And for you?”
Sunshine admired her resilience. “Iced tea, please.”
The young woman made a hasty retreat, and Sunshine didn’t blame her.
“Was that really necessary?” she asked, keeping her voice low and calm.
“Definitely necessary. We are no lovebirds.”
“We once were, if you remember.” She hoped the gentle prompt would bring happy memories instead of dredging up the graveyard of their past mistakes and the pain they had brought to each other.
“That was a long time ago.” He started to slide out of the booth.
Reaching across the table, Sunshine placed her hand on his. “Please don’t leave.”
“Why?” he demanded. “So you can remind me that I betrayed you and sold out to my father?”
His words were like a slap in the face. “I would never do that.”
“You mean to say you don’t want to rub my face in your success?”
His words shocked her. “Peter, no, never.”
“Are you sure, Sunshine? Aren’t you even a little tempted?” he taunted.
She shook her head, barely recognizing this man as the one she’d loved beyond reason.
“Don’t you want to ask whatever happened to the boy you knew? Didn’t you ever wonder if I could have supported myself as a sculptor?”
Alicia returned with their drink order and Sunshine wasn’t given the opportunity to answer.
Peter nearly grabbed the glass out of the young woman’s hand. He drank it down in one swallow and set the empty glass aside.
Sunshine didn’t blame the waitress for making another hasty retreat.
Peter’s eyes narrowed as he glared across the table at Sunshine. “I curse the day I met you.”
The vehemence in his voice robbed her of breath. When she could, she asked him, “Do you hate me so much?” She was barely able to get the words out from the pain tightening her chest. Whatever had happened to Peter over the years had changed him to a bitter, angry man.
“I see your art hanging in galleries and I’m reminded that because of what happened with us … my entire life went down in flames. I’d like to blame Ellie, blame you. I can’t, though. I was the one who was weak, who gave up everything that was ever important to me. I’m the one to blame.”
“I’m sorry for you,” she whispered.
“You should be.”
Alicia returned with their food. Sunshine nearly groaned aloud when she saw the platters of fish tacos and one bean tostada. It was the same order they had shared on their Friday-night dates.
As the waitress placed the plate in front of Peter, he looked down at it and rolled his eyes. “This is just perfect.”
His words dripped with sarcasm.
Reaching for his empty glass, he studied the bottom as if he expected to find something there. He waved over the waitress. As soon as she appeared, he thrust the glass at her. “Give me another.”
“A double scotch?”
“Yes,” he snapped, as if that was the most asinine question he’d ever been asked.
Seeing how many years it’d been since she’d last seen Peter, Sunshine wondered if he had a drinking problem. They often drank wine together, but never more than a glass each. Hard liquor was reserved for parties and neither one of them overindulged—well, other than on a few specific occasions.
“Don’t look at me like I’m an alcoholic,” he muttered, as if reading her thoughts. “I don’t abuse alcohol. At least I didn’t until today.”
His attempt at humor was weak. “You want to blame me for the way your life has gone,” Sunshine said, and it was a statement, not a question.
“I don’t blame you for a damn thing,” he insisted. “I accept full responsibility for screwing up my own life. It started with you and Ellie. I lost you both and that stupidity cost me dearly. Eventually, I caved to my father’s demands. It all happened so fast, like dominos toppling over on each other. One bad decision followed another. I couldn’t seem to stop myself, even knowing at the time this was all wrong for me. This wasn’t what I wanted and still I kept stumbling further and further from who I wanted to be.”
Alicia returned with his drink. He didn’t gulp it down this time. Instead, he stared into the amber liquid as if it held the secrets of the universe. “If I hadn’t already destroyed my life enough, I made another tragic mistake when I decided to marry Carolyn. She, you might be interested to know, was the worst of my screwups.” He took a big swallow of the scotch.
Neither of them had touched the meal.
“Did you ever go back to sculpting?” she asked, keeping her voice as soothing as she could manage. Anger radiated off him in waves like hot sun against asphalt on the hottest day of summer.
“Never touched it again.”
“Oh Peter.” Her heart ached for him to the point she wanted to weep. His talent had stirred her. All these years she prayed he had at least found an artistic outlet from the heavy demands of a law career. Instinctively, she realized turning his back on what he loved was the way he’d chosen to punish himself.
Because her throat felt dry and raw with sadness, Sunshine sipped her tea.
“You know what the worst part has been?” Although he asked the question, it was apparently rhetorical. “You’d think it was leaving art school, or my divorce or having minimal contact with my daughters. All that should be enough to make a grown man weep, but the worst, the very worst, was knowing you’d stuck with your dreams and became a recognized and highly acclaimed artist.”