She ordered two large bottles of filtered sake as they settled in, a body distance between them that allowed them to look directly into each other’s eyes. Clearly happy to see each other.
They toasted a shot of the little sake cups, each catching a breath. Then the words poured out of her mouth, through the lips he remembered kissing tenderly. What she said stunned him, hit him harder than a lead sap, harder than a hundred-pound sack of rice.
“We have to back it up,” she said, locking his eyes. “Not see each other. For a while at least.”
He was speechless, wanted to protest, but knew to let her tell it.
“The son of a bitch,” she said with a frown. He knew she meant her soon-to-be ex-husband. “He somehow got a copy of a security tape from Confucius Towers.”
“No,” Jack said quietly, now understanding the edge he’d seen in her eyes when she walked in. She was the bearer of bad news.
“Yes. It shows you and me in the elevator, going up.”
“No,” he repeated, clenching his fists and taking a steadying breath through his nose.
“Yes. And it shows you,” she continued, “going back down alone.”
Before dawn, remembered Jack, the last time they’d made love. He downed his cup of sake, poured another. Her words made him feel awful, killed his appetite for sushi.
“He’s threatening to use the tape against me in the custody fight. Paint me as an unfaithful wife and unfit mother.” He felt helpless and guilty, didn’t know whether to apologize or add to her anger.
Jack’s fist tightened around the sake bottle as he poured her another cup. She drained it before continuing.
“I’m threatening a lawsuit against Confucius Towers and Tower Security,” she added. “But I don’t know if that’ll work.”
“Everyone suffers,” Jack said with a frown. “Especially the kid.” The divorce demands had driven a wedge between them. Should they have waited before giving in to their needs? She, a lawyer, should have known better. He certainly knew better. Billy had warned him countless times.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” he offered.
“It’s nobody’s fault, Jack. He’s just an evil bastard.”
He reached across and took her fingers in his, caressed them as he tried to comfort her. He wanted to hold her, tell her it was going to be all right, but knew she’d passed there already. She was trying to get ready for a fight she didn’t feel was going to go her way. They eyed each other with apprehension and sorrow.
“What can I do to help?” he asked.
She pulled her fingers away, poured herself a refill.
“The best thing you can do is to stay away from him in every way,” she said. “The last thing I need is you stalking him, anything crazy like that.” Her words cut through him, made him feel helpless to help her-this woman with whom he’d started to feel there could be a future-made him wish Lucky wasn’t in a coma and could arrange the dirty work.
Jack shook his head as she contemplated the little sake cup, before throwing it back.
“And we can’t be seen together,” she said quietly. That’s why she chose Tsunami, Jack realized, it was out of the way, outside Chinatown. They’d have to lay low.
He didn’t want to lose her. He cared more about her than anything else in his life, certainly more than anything in his cop life.
She leaned in and kissed him.
“It’s over, Jack,” she said, sliding out of the booth, her hand holding him back from following her. “For now.” She hesitated a moment, adding, “I’ve changed my cell phone number. But you know where to find me.” She meant at AJA, Jack knew.
She brushed a final stroke on his cheek and left the sushi joint.
He thought he saw tears welling in her eyes. He stayed back like she’d asked, watching her through the restaurant window with the big crashing wave overlay. She’d make her own way back to Chinatown and Confucius Towers, he knew, as she climbed into a cab. The passenger window rolled down, and the kiss she blew him almost broke his heart.
He had to trust what she was doing, that it was the right thing. For both of them.
He ordered another sake, drained the previous one. The rice wine smoothed the way for the pain in his stitches and bruises to mix now with the ache in his heart.
He hated the feeling of helplessness, unable to affect the consequences of what amounted to falling in love. Alex. Alexandra. Falling in love?
He worked the sake down, and with the afternoon light fading outside, he fired up a cigarette and deeply hoped, against his glowing cynicism, that there’d be more chapters to their story.