The Way They Were by Mary Campisi

wasn’t remembering the feel of his arms around her, the thrust of his hips, the power of his—
    “Mom? Can I get a milkshake, too?”
    Kate tried to refocus. “What?”
    “Wake up, Mom. Can I get a milkshake, too?”
    “Sure.” Julia had the same high cheekbones as her father.
    “You want one?”
    “No, I’ll stick with my Diet Coke.” The same small earlobes, too. And of course, the same slate eyes. She was not going to lose Julia, no matter what she had to do.
    “Hey, there’s Abbie and Maxine!” Julia waved to them as they waited for a booth. “Can they eat with us?”
    Kate was surrounded by Rourke; his secretary, his niece…his daughter…his scent still clinging to her pores. “Sure,” she let out on a long sigh.
    “Over here!” Julia waved her hand at Abbie. “Wanna join us?”
    The secretary looked uncomfortable with the offer which made Kate wonder what she knew. Abbie ignored the woman and plopped down in the booth next to Julia, leaving Maxine no choice but to follow.
    They’d barely had time to glance at their menus when Abbie burst out giggling. “You should see who’s come to visit Rourke. Her name is Janice. She’s a trip, isn’t she, Maxine?”
    Janice?
    “Abigail, Mr. Flannigan’s private business is not our concern.”
    Abbie scrunched her nose. “Come on, Maxine, Janice is a piece of plastic wrapped in Versace. What’s he see in her anyway, other than the big boobs?”
    “Abigail!”
    Abbie ignored her. “She’s some kind of model or something,” she paused and her lips curved into a sly smile, “I think she’s his girlfriend.”
    Girlfriend?
    “Abigail!”
    Abbie merely waved a hand at Maxine and continued, “She’s got some great clothes though. All designer stuff.”
    Kate smoothed the wrinkles out of her khaki skirt. Girlfriend?
    “He doesn’t even act like he likes her. Does he, Maxine?”
    “I’m sure I have no idea how Mr. Flannigan acts or does not act toward Ms. Prentiss.”
    Abbie’s brows inched together as she took in Maxine’s white cotton blouse. “I’m sure you don’t.”
    “I think he’s kind of cute.”
    They all turned to Julia, who merely shrugged and smiled. “For an older guy.”
    “I guess.” Abbie scratched her chin and opened a menu. “But he’s still a pain.”
    The conversation shifted to Sophie’s burgers and fries. Kate tried to think of different ways to inch the subject back to Rourke and his girlfriend, but aside from asking outright, which would make her as transparent as cellophane, she could think of no other way.
    No man with a girlfriend should have been doing what she and Rourke were a few hours ago. Kate pushed down a rush of nausea as she recalled exactly what they’d been doing. He ignited a burn in her that Clay had never been able to accomplish no matter the skill or technique and for that she despised Rourke, almost as much as she despised herself.
    “…wants to marry him, don’t you think, Maxine? He won’t though, not unless he’s into self-torture.” Abbie leaned in, lowered her voice, “You should see the stuff women send him. Flowers, sweaters, ties,” she giggled, “underwear.”
    “Abigail, that is absolutely enough.”
    “What’s he do with it?” Julia’s voice quivered in anticipation.
    Abbie shrugged. “Gives it to the cleaning lady for her kids and her husband. Not sure about the underwear though. They were those silky boxer kind.”
    “Abigail—”
    Julia giggled, before Maxine could finish. “I thought they were women’s underwear.”
    “No, but I told you he has a drawer of those in his bedroom, remember? I think they’re Janice’s .”
    “Abigail, if you do not cease this conversation this instant, I will call your uncle and insist he return you to the Manor.” Maxine’s thin nostrils flared in unison, her pale complexion flushed crimson as she added, “And see how you’ll explain that to him.”
    Abbie rolled her eyes and made a face. “Fine. I’m done.”
    When