Danielle Steel - One Day at a Time

“Call me when you want to talk to me,” he said sadly. “I don't want to pressure you, Coco.” He wanted to give her time to breathe. Liz had suggested it would be a good idea. The trauma had been severe for Coco.

“Thank you,” she said, as she took the turnoff to Pacific Heights, wishing they were back at Jane's house again, back at the beginning, instead of at the end. “I love you,” she whispered, but she could no longer see any way to make it work, unless she wanted to live the same crazy existence he did, and she didn't. But she couldn't bring herself to say it to him. He knew.

“I love you too” was all Leslie said.

She went to pick up Sallie then, before she picked up the other dogs. Jane came to the door and told her she was sorry about her wrist. Coco smiled when she saw her. She was huge.

“You're getting bigger,” she commented, and Jane rubbed her hands over her round stomach. She was wearing tights and a sweater, and she looked prettier than ever. There was something slightly softer about her face.

“Three more months,” Jane said, looking apprehensive. “It's hard to believe.” They were commuting to L.A. by then, doing post-production on their film. Liz had said they'd be finished by Thanksgiving, which was a good thing. It would give Jane two months to take it easy and get ready for motherhood. “Are you and Leslie coming to Mom's for Thanksgiving?” she asked offhandedly, and Coco shook her head.

“I am, but he'll be in New York with his daughter.” Coco didn't want to get into it with her and quickly changed the subject. “How was Gabriel, by the way?” She remembered that Jane had met him in L.A. and she hadn't talked to her since. Jane laughed at the question.

“Young. Jesus, is he young. And Mom looks like she feels sixteen. It's a little unnerving, to say the least. He's a decent guy, I guess. I don't know what he's doing with a woman her age. It can't last, but at least she's having fun.” Coco was shocked to see that Jane had relaxed about it. She had expected her to be on a mission of destruction, and instead she didn't seem to care. “Whatever works. I guess we all have our crazy moments, and the right to make decisions about our own lives, whatever everyone else thinks. How was Italy, by the way?” Coco almost shuddered at the question, but she had steeled herself for it.

“It was great,” she said with a broad smile and prayed her all-seeing sister didn't see through it. “Except for my wrist.”

“That was shit luck, but at least it was your left wrist.” Jane didn't say a word about Leslie, and as Sallie followed her to the van a few minutes later, Coco wondered if Jane had relaxed about him too. The whole time they were talking, she'd been rubbing her belly, the way pregnant women did. Coco was wondering if something had changed. They were going back to L.A. until Thanksgiving, and Coco hoped that by then she wouldn't feel as though her own life had come to an end. She had lived through it when Ian died, and survived it. She could go through it again now, after Leslie, and knew she'd survive this too.

She went to pick up the big dogs, and the ones in Cow Hollow after. She followed her usual route, and did everything she had to do. She went through the motions, and went back to Bolinas every afternoon, but she felt as though everything inside her had died. Leslie didn't call her for the next three weeks, and she didn't call him. He didn't want to push her, and she was trying to get over him and the best way to do it, she knew, was not to talk to him at all. She didn't want to hear his voice and fall in love with him all over again, and she knew she would. And then the same thing would happen again. She couldn't. It was too scary.

Coco didn't talk to anyone until she left for L.A. on Thanksgiving, three weeks after Venice. She left Sallie with Erin, and she was only planning to go down for two days. Liz had invited her to stay at their rented house. And Gabriel was going to join them for Thanksgiving dinner. It was the first time she was going to meet him, although she had caught a glimpse of him that night at the Bel-Air when she saw her mother with him.

Liz picked her up at the airport in L.A., and drove her back to the house where Jane was waiting. It was the night before Thanksgiving, and the three of them were going to have a quiet dinner. Liz didn't ask her about Leslie, and Coco didn't mention him. Coco was wondering if he had made it to New York for Thanksgiving with Chloe and her mother. He hadn't called her, and she had no idea if he had left Venice. She thought it was best to just leave things the way they were, to drift away. The die had been cast on their last night in Venice, and her decision had been made. He knew it from her silence, and she knew from his that he understood. They still loved each other, but there was no doubt in her mind now. It could never be.

Jane was sprawled on the couch when she and Liz got back from the airport, and she waved when Coco walked in. She looked like a beach ball with arms and legs and a head, and Coco smiled as she walked over to give her a hug.

“Holy shit, you're huge!” Her belly looked as though it had doubled in size in three weeks.

“If that's a compliment, thank you.” Jane grinned at her. “If not, screw you. You should try wearing this.” Coco almost winced as she said it. She had put the idea of marriage and babies behind her, and hearing her say it made her think of Leslie instantly. “I don't even want to think about how big this kid is going to be in two months. It scares the shit out of me.”

They talked and laughed over dinner. Liz and Jane had finished their film, and were moving back to San Francisco for good the following week. They were halfway through dinner and a good bottle of wine when Jane suddenly turned to her and asked how Leslie was. She suddenly realized that Coco hadn't mentioned him all evening.

“Fine, I guess,” Coco said, trying to brace herself for what would come next. She gave a quick glance at Liz, who obviously hadn't said anything, and Coco was grateful for that. She had needed the last three weeks to compose herself before telling Jane.

“Is everything all right with you two?” Jane asked, frowning.

“Actually, no, it's not,” Coco said quietly. “It's over. You were right. We had a couple of minor brushes with the paparazzi, and on my last night in Venice, they ambushed us. And as you predicted,” she said stoically, “I folded like a house of cards. They scared the hell out of me. I wound up with seven stitches and a broken wrist, and I figured that was enough for me. I can't live like that. So here I am, alone again. Just me.” There was a long silence after she made her brief speech, and she was waiting for a barrage of “I told you so”s, and instead Jane leaned over and touched the cast on her wrist. By then, the stitches had been taken out, and the wound on her hand had healed. There was only a small scar to show for it, which was nothing compared to the condition of her heart. She felt as though it had been shattered.

“The paparazzi broke your wrist?” Jane said in disbelief. She looked both sympathetic and stunned.

“Not intentionally. I was getting out of a gondola at the dock at the Gritti, and one of them grabbed my ankle and tried to yank me back, so I fell back into the boat headfirst, and when I tried to break my fall, I cut my hand and broke my wrist. They ambushed us leaving a restaurant before that and smashed my back into a wall. We finally made it to the gondola, they jumped in with us, and nearly overturned the boat. There were about thirty of them and they followed us in three motoscafi, and then tried to keep us from getting out of the boat. It was pretty nasty.”

“Are you kidding?” Jane said in astonishment. “What I meant was that they would follow you around and invade your privacy, and you're such a private person, I knew you would hate that. I never meant that they were going to beat the crap out of you, smash you into walls, try to knock you out of boats, cut you up, and break bones. Where was Leslie in all that?” She wanted to know if Leslie had left her to the wolves, and if so, she was going to call him and rip his head off.