“Just don’t listen to your friends or your stupid lawyers or psychiatrists. They don’t know anything. And they certainly don’t know what’s best for you. Those are little minds. Don’t think small, Clarice.” Barry had told her not to think small since he first told her he had no intention of ever running her father’s supermarket chain.

“Barry, you destroyed our marriage.” Clarice was careful to take calm breaths from her diaphragm.

“I destroyed what was getting stale. Now we can reinvent it.”

“With her?”

“She doesn’t concern you. I need to know I have full access to you and my children. I love you, Clarice. I need to know you’re still here for me.”

“I’ll think about it, Barry,” she whispered.

“Good. That’s all I need to know.” Barry pushed his chair back and kissed her on the lips. “Waiter, check.”

“Barry, you haven’t eaten and I’d like coffee.”

“Coffee will kill you. And don’t let my kids drink coffee either.” Barry got up to get their coats.

As Clarice stood up, Jil Taillou, who was sitting with Grey Navez and her boyfriend, waved from across the room.

“Who the fuck is that?” Barry asked.

“Art dealer. Friend of Judy Tremont. You met him at her dinner a while ago.”

“It’s amazing how many leeches there are in the world, Clarice,” Barry whispered to her. “Doctors, art dealers, decorators, all they want is to suck our fuckin’ blood dry.” His voice began to crack. “At least you and I aren’t looking to take ten percent of each other.”

“Barry, I gave you two hundred percent.”

“That’s love, babe. You always have to give two hundred percent. Who are the other people with him?”

“Grey Navez and her boyfriend Lewis Franklin. He’s the new president of Morgan Stanley.”

Barry now waved back to them. Then he took Clarice’s hand and walked out of the restaurant.

When they got out on Madison Avenue, Julian and the car were conveniently waiting.

“Let Julian take you home, Clarice.” He quickly opened the door.

“I can walk,” she answered.

“Get in the car, Clarice. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kissed her cheek.

“Thank you for dinner, Barry.” She used her formal voice again.

“Don’t thank me, Clarice. Just don’t make a stupid decision.”

As he shut the door and waved good-bye, he noticed a photographer outside the restaurant.

“Fuck you, twerp!” The paparazzi ran away.