“Good afternoon.” He walked over and kissed me on the cheek. “You look amazing...” He led me over to the older brunette I’d seen weeks ago at Dutchman’s. “This is my mother, Denise Statham. And mother, this is—”

“Claire.” She smiled and reached out for my hand.

I was about to say, ‘It’s nice seeing you again,’ but she said, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” I guessed he’d told her about me and she probably didn’t remember me ever being in her shop.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous...” she said. “Jonathan’s very lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Statham.”

“I’ll see you next week, son.” She hugged Jonathan and walked out of the office.

As soon as he heard the ping of the elevator, he pulled me into his arms. “Is something wrong? Are you sick? It must be something fatal if you came up here during the hours when people might actually see you.”

I rolled my eyes. “We just wrapped up the sTablet so Mr. Barnes is letting us go home early. My phone died so I figured I’d come tell you that before you thought I was ignoring you.”

“Good decision. I would take you out to lunch to celebrate, but I’m booked with meetings until six. Dinner? There’s a new bistro down at—”

“Mr. Statham? I hate to bother you again, but Miss Griffin is here with an emergency.” Angela’s voice came over the intercom. “She says it can’t wait another second.”

He sighed and stepped back. “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” He pulled out a chair for me and walked out of the room.

I leaned back in the chair and shut my eyes. I was thrilled to be done with the strenuous sTablet campaign and I couldn’t wait to move on to something much easier: the sPhone red.

I stretched my legs out and heard the jangling of keys. I opened my eyes and saw Denise walking back into the room.

“I’m sorry, Jonathan. I forgot my—” She stopped. “Where’s Jonathan?”

“He left for an emergency.”

“Hmmm.” She walked over to the couch and picked up a pair of glasses. “Tell me something, Claire...How old are you?”

“Forty...”

Her eyes widened and she tilted her head to the side. “Well, now I know the true meaning of ‘looks can be deceiving’...Is my Jonathan the Jonathan you bought those sea hooks for?”

Clearly... “Yes.”

“Well, between me and you, I wouldn’t waste my time giving those to him. They don’t stand for short-term relationships.”

“Excuse me?”

She sighed. “When his friend Vanessa told me that his girlfriend was a forty year old with two kids I didn’t believe it...I thought to myself, ‘No, Jonathan would never date someone who was that much older than him. He knows better.’ I even wondered what I would say to this woman if I ever had the chance to meet her... And I think my exact words were fuck off.”

What? My mind went blank.

“Whatever is going on between the two of you isn’t going to last another season and you know it.” She hissed. “What young, attractive billionaire wants to live his life with an aging woman and her two teenaged kids? In what world is that happily ever after possible?”

I wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, but she was scaring the living shit out of me and I couldn’t come up with anything to say.

“I’ve seen this all before, Claire.” She narrowed her icy blue eyes at me. “Divorced woman with kids wants to start her life over and decides to go for the younger man this time around. The rehab center is full of those types...The older woman thinks it’s exciting and new; that she’s one of the lucky ones and it’ll last forever, but it won’t—especially not with someone like Jonathan. He’s used to dating supermodels and actresses who are younger than him, not thirsty cougars who want to trick him into thinking he’s in love so they can get his money.”

“Mrs. Statham, I’m not—”

“And before you think otherwise about the way this so-called “relationship” you two have is going to end, let me help you figure it out: He’ll probably never meet your daughters because he’s only into you for sex. Or if he has met them, it was only to put on a show and act like he cares when he really doesn’t. But, oh...What’s this?” She gave me a sarcastic frown. “He hasn’t met them has he?”

My poker face was failing me. I could feel a look of sadness sliding onto my cheeks.

She smiled. “Hasn’t even asked to, huh? Poor cougar Claire...That’s actually not shocking at all, but it must be quite disheartening for you. Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Mrs. Statham—”

“Us middle-aged people don’t have to call each other by our formal titles, Claire. You should be calling me Denise. Then again, you shouldn’t really be around in the first place, so—”

“I don’t think antagonizing me will get you any closer to Jonathan.” I said as firmly as I could.

“You’re right. Getting rid of you will.”

I rolled my eyes. I was going to tell Jonathan about this little encounter as soon as he walked back into the room.

Denise shook her head and turned away, but then she spun back around. “By the way, if you even think about telling him about this—if you repeat any of what I said to you, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“Do your worst.” My personality was finally re-surfacing.

She laughed. “Don’t underestimate me, Claire. You’d be amazed at what types of people end up in rehab: Former judges, celebrities, and my favorite—ousted news reporters who are always looking for the right story to get their jobs back.”

“You don’t have anything on me.”

“I don’t. But there’s someone on the company board here who does. You must have really pissed her off because she’s been crafting this little story for a while...Remember, it doesn’t have to be true, it just has to look true. So, think about that before you open your mouth. In the meantime, figure out a quick way—a two week way, to break up with my gullible son before I do it for you.” She slid her glasses over her eyes and walked out of the room.

I sat back in my chair and thought long and hard about what she could possibly have on me. I’d never been arrested, never been to rehab, never done anything that would scare me if it was brought to the light.

“I’m so sorry about that.” Jonathan walked back into the room. He pulled me out of my chair and smiled. “What was I saying before?”

“Dinner...” I murmured. I wasn’t going to go. I needed to use tonight to think about what his mother had said to me, to make sure she didn’t have anything that could hurt me. I figured I’d use the same “time with my daughters” line since he always bought that.

“Right. There’s a new restaurant down at Fisherman’s Wharf and I’d love to—”

“Rain check? I promised the girls that I would make pasta tonight. Maybe we can—”

“I like pasta.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll bring the leftovers to work tomorrow. Do you want me to pack parmesan cheese with—”

“I can’t come over and have dinner with you and your family?”

What? “Um...”

“Um?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What type of answer is that?”

“You want to meet my daughters?”

“Do they know I exist?”

I nodded.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Nothing...” I decided that his mother was full of shit. “Dinner is at seven.”

Jonathan’s Birthday

I gazed into Jonathan eyes as he gazed back into mine. We were sitting at a table in Sierra Mar—sharing our own special silence, talking without saying a word. Even though Hayley was sitting across from us, it felt like we were the only people in the room.

I heard her asking me questions—“Have you always lived in San Fran?” “Are your daughters coming here with us tonight?” “How did you manage to keep this dinner a secret from my brother all this time?”—but all I could say in return was “Not always,” “Not tonight,” and “Umm hmm.”