“Well, it’s awfully late now,” I said. “You being a better man does nothing for me.”
“I won’t hurt anyone like I did then,” Don said. “To you, to Ruby.”
My heart of ice melted briefly, and I admitted that did make me feel better. “Still,” I said. “We all can’t go around treating people like dog shit and then expecting that a simple I’m sorry erases it.”
Don shook his head humbly. “Of course not,” he said. “No, I know that.”
“And if your movies hadn’t tanked and Ari Sullivan hadn’t dropped you like you got him to drop me, you’d probably sti
ll be living high on the hog, drunk as a skunk.”
Don nodded. “Probably. I’m sorry to say you are most likely right about that.”
I wanted more. Did I want him to grovel? To cry? I wasn’t sure. I just knew I wasn’t getting it.
“Let me just say this,” Don said. “I loved you from the moment I saw you. I loved you madly. And I ruined it because I turned into a man I’m not proud of. And because I ruined it the way I did, because I was awful at treating you the way you deserved to be treated, I am sorry. Sometimes I think about going back to our wedding day and wanting to do it all over again, wanting to fix my mistakes so that you never have to go through what I put you through. I know I can’t do that, but what I can do is look you in the eye and tell you from the very bottom of my heart that I know how incredible you are, I know how great we could have been together, I know that everything we both lost was my fault, I am dedicated to never behaving that poorly again, and I am truly, truly sorry.”
In all my years after Don, all my movies, all my marriages, I had never once wanted to go back in time in the hopes that Don and I could get it right. My life since Don had been a story of my own making, a mess and a joy of my own decisions, and a string of experiences that landed me with everything I ever wanted.
I was OK. I felt safe. I had a beautiful daughter, a devoted husband, and the love of a good woman. I had money and fame. I had a gorgeous house in a city I had reclaimed. What could Don Adler take from me?
If I had come to see if I could stand him, I found that I could. There was not a bone in my body that was afraid of him.
And then I realized: if that was true, what did I have to lose?
I did not say the words I forgive you to Don Adler. I simply took my wallet out of my purse and said, “Do you want to see a picture of Connor?”
He smiled and nodded, and when I showed him her photo, he laughed. “She looks just like you,” he said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I don’t think there’s any other way to take it. I think every woman in this country would like to look like Evelyn Hugo.”
I threw my head back and laughed. When our Reubens were half eaten and taken away by the waitress, I told him I’d do the movie.
“That’s great,” he said. “Really great to hear. I think you and I could really . . . I think we can really give them a show.”
“We are not friends, Don,” I said. “I want to be clear on that.”
Don nodded. “OK,” he said. “I understand.”
“But I think we can be friendly.”
Don smiled. “I’d be honored by friendly.”
JUST BEFORE SHOOTING WAS SET to commence, Harry turned forty-five. He said he didn’t want a big night out or any sort of formal plans. He just wanted a nice day with all of us.
So John, Celia, and I planned a picnic in the park. Luisa packed us lunch. Celia made sangria. John went down to the sporting-goods store and got us an extra-large umbrella to shade us from not only the sun but also passersby. On the way home, he got the bright idea to buy us wigs and sunglasses, too.
That afternoon, the three of us told Harry we had a surprise for him, and we led him into the park, Connor riding on his back. She loved to be strapped to him. She would laugh as he bounced her while he walked.
I took his hand and dragged him with us.
“Where are we going?” he said. “Someone at least give me a hint.”
“I’ll give you a small one,” Celia said as we were crossing Fifth Avenue.
“No,” John said, shaking his head. “No hints. He’s too good with hints. It takes all the fun out of it.”