by Marian Vere
Sigh. Which brings me back to the issue at hand: what the hell do I do now? My peaceful, relaxing wave of Zen that I let sweep me away in the dressing room has been slowly but steadily dissolving throughout the day, leaving me now in a state of total indecision and doubt.
Okay, so Nick isn’t getting married. It’s nice to know, but does it really matter? Am I actually planning do something about this new development? Do I approach him like I’d planned to back in Maine? Really, I don’t think I can. Actually getting up the nerve to talk to him about all this was iffy at best then; with the emotional rollercoaster I have been on the past few weeks, I’m lucky to still be functioning, much less taking huge risks with the shreds of mental stability I have left. Besides, I’ve already come to the solid conclusion that my emotion-based instincts suck and are not to be trusted.
I roll over with a huff, crossing my arms under my pillow. I finally have a plan—a real goal—and have already taken the first steps to achieve it. Am I going to throw in the towel just because I find out Nick is still single? How can I do that? A fairy godmother would never let you give up like that, and since that’s the part I have decided to play, then I won’t either. Not to mention, I’m forgetting a key factor here. Nick has been single all this time, but has made no attempt to contact me in any way. I haven’t gone to him, but I had a reason. If he had any feelings for me, or desire to be with me, wouldn’t he have gotten in touch with me? I would think so.
So that settles it. I’ll continue on as though Nick is the one who’s getting married. He will some day, so I had better start getting used to the idea now. I knew this plan wouldn’t be easy, but if I ever want to move on, it has to be done. I vowed I would push on come hell or high water. Happily ever afters don’t just happen; you have to make them happen. So that’s what I’ll do: keep moving forward, climbing onward and upward toward my new life, leaving the past behind for good.
I close my eyes, ready to make up for all the sleep I lost the last few nights, determined to stick to my guns. But, somehow I fall asleep to the image of Nick, smiling down at me and holding me close.
Ah well…baby steps.
14
THREE DAYS AND COUNTLESS unanswered phone calls from her later, I sit down to lunch with Lisa at Capri Café, which is only a few blocks away from my office. I’ve been avoiding her and spent the majority of this morning mentally preparing for the onslaught of Zach-related questions I knew would be coming.
“’Bout time you called me! What’s it been, a month?” she asks, pretending to be more offended than she actually is.
“I called you last week.”
“Okay, first of all, that was two weeks ago, and yeah, you called…you left a message asking me for an e-mail address, and have been avoiding me ever since! Sorry, but that doesn’t count.”
She’s right. I haven’t spoken to her since I asked her for Zach’s e-mail, the night I got back from Susan’s. What’s worse, when she called back to give it to me, I deliberately didn’t pick up, forcing her to leave it in a message. At the time I couldn’t handle giving an explanation, and since then, well, I just haven’t wanted to give an explanation. Normally, she wouldn’t have been so obliging with the information. If I had called her and asked for anything else, she would never have left it on a voicemail; she would have made me get it from her in person. She’s more than capable of waiting me out. But she’s been pushing this Zach thing for so long, I think she was afraid that by the time I broke down and got back to her, I would have changed my mind and no longer wanted the address. She knew she had to act fast. So really, it wasn’t her doing me a favor, as much as her taking advantage of an opportunity.
“I’ve been busy. Bree is getting married next month,” I slip in somewhat out of the blue, hoping it would derail the conversation for a bit.
“Wait, what?”
Mission accomplished.
“Yep, his name is Chris. She met him while we were in Maine.”
“In Maine? What, like last month? And they’re getting married?”
“Yep.” I take a sip of my Coke. Sad as it is, I’m almost challenging her to say something. This is the other part of the day I had been mentally preparing for: Lisa’s assessment of their quick marriage. Waiting for her to judge or criticize them in some way, so that I can come to their defense. I know it’s mean to set her up like this, but I just want the opportunity to stick up for Bree and Chris the way I never stuck up for Nick and me.
Petty, yeah, I know.
Regardless, I’m thwarted when, “Wow,” is all she says.
We order our lunches, after which we sit in a pregnant silence. Lisa looks at me with her eyebrows raised in a you-might-as-well-stop-stalling-and-get-on-with-it look.
“How long are you going to stare at me like that?” I ask, still trying to play dumb.
“Until you break down and tell me all the juicy details.” She grins.
“Well, sorry to disappoint, but we’ve only been out once. Any details I have are minor and juiceless.”
“Did you have fun?”
“Sure.”
“What did you do?”
“Dinner.”
“Are you going out again?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tonight, actually.”
“And?” She makes a circular motion with her hand.
“And…what?”
“Come on, you’ve gotta give me something. Do you like him? Is it as horrible as you’d thought it’d be?”
“No, it’s not horrible”—that isn’t the word—“but I never thought it would be. And, yes I like him, I guess.” Sure, why not. “It’s still hard to tell.”
“Come on, you’re killing me! You’ve got to give me something!”
“All right! Our eyes met from across the room, and we were drawn to each other. My heart was instantly lost and now I can’t look into his eyes without seeing the faces of our future children,” I say with as much cheese as I can muster. “There, how’s that? Better?”
She glares and I can’t help but smirk.
“Anyway, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.” She raises her glass in a toast. “No matter what happens, you went for it, and that’s what matters.”
“Thank you.” I raise my glass to meet hers. She was right. I had gone for it, and I was glad someone else could appreciate how big a step that was. I am officially trying, and I’m proud of that.
“Plus, he’s being promoted next week.”
“Really? He hasn’t said anything about it.”
“He doesn’t know yet. We are waiting until this whole mess with Linda is over.”
“The one who’s stealing? How’s that going?”
“Great. We know it’s her, and now we’re just waiting to catch her in the act so we can fire her.”
“If you know it’s her, why can’t you fire her now?”
“We could, but if we catch her red-handed, we don’t have to deal with any ‘he said, she said’ drama later on. She’ll know she’s caught, and won’t be able to fight it.”
“Will you press charges?”
“Maybe, but that’s not my decision. I hope so, though.”
“How much did she end up taking overall?”
“Well, that’s another thing; we’re not sure. It will take some time to backtrack and go through it all. So far it looks like she has been at this for over five years.”
“That sucks, but at least you can keep an eye on her now. That has to make you feel better.”
“I’ll feel better when I can fire the bitch.”
“And we all know how good you are at that.” I grin.
“Hey, we all have our hobbies,” she agrees with a smirk.
Thankfully, that is the end of any and all Zach-related talk before we finish our lunches and part ways. When I get back to work and the elevator doors open on my floor, the first thing I see is Bree, pacing in the hall with a huge smile on her face.
“There you are!”
she squeals, practically bouncing.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, come!” She grabs my hand, and tows me behind her toward our office. Once we pass through the door, she stops, takes my shoulders, and spins me around to face my desk.
When my eyes focus, my breath catches in my throat. There, waiting for me, is an enormous bouquet of roses. They are absolutely stunning: fuchsia, pink, yellow, and orange, surrounded by white baby’s breath.
Bree could barely contain herself. “They were delivered an hour ago. Who are they from?” She had obviously been on pins and needles since they arrived.
“I have no idea,” I say, reaching for the card I see hanging on a ribbon tied to the vase.
Julia,
Something to brighten your day, the way thinking of you brightens mine.
Can’t wait to see you tonight!
- Zach
Zach? Wow. That’s really…sweet. I feel myself blush as I close the card.
“Well?” Bree begs. I hand her the card. “Aw! That is so cute!” She holds the card over her heart. “Who is Zach?”
“A guy I’ve sort of…been seeing.”
“Oh my gosh! You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone!” She hurries over to her desk and grabs her chair. I sink down into my seat and smile as she rolls her chair up alongside my desk. “So, who is he? What’s he do? Obviously he’s a sweetheart.” She gestures to the roses, “How long has this been going on?”
She’s leaning in toward me, biting her lower lip, waiting for answers, and I can’t help but smile. After all, this is what it’s supposed to be like, right? Having the new boyfriend butterflies, chatting with girlfriends about him, oohing and awing over cute stories, analyzing the details of each date. The only little issue is that I don’t have the butterflies. The flowers are very sweet, and they definitely make me smile, but they don’t make me want to squeal and jump up and down, like Bree seems seconds away from doing. I just don’t feel that way about Zach, at least not yet. I’m sure I will soon; I just have to keep going. I’ve decided to move ahead with the plan, and this is part of it. Simply because I’m not overly excited now, doesn’t mean I can’t fake it, and eventually I won’t have to fake it at all. Soon everything will be the way it should, so for now my objective is to do whatever it takes to get there. After all, it’s working so far, right? I have a gorgeous bouquet of flowers on my desk that says it is.
“We’ve only been out once,” I say, leaning over to her, trying to match her enthusiasm, “but it went really well, and we are going out again tonight.”
“What does he do?”
“He is a copywriter for Century PR.”
“Is he cute? What does he look like?” she asks, biting her lip.
“He is cute. He’s a little taller than me, has reddish-brown hair and blue eyes.” Now that I think about it, he is a good-looking guy. Funny I had never really noticed before.
“You have to bring him in. I want to meet him!”
“Well, let’s see how things go. It’s early yet.”
We are interrupted by Margaret’s entrance. “Afternoon, girls,” she says.
“Look, Julia got flowers!” Bree announces, jumping up from her chair.
“Oh, my,” Margaret says, coming over for a closer look. “Someone has an admirer!”
She begins asking all the questions that Bree asked, and I go over everything again for her sake, though an enthusiastic Bree interrupts me several times. It’s funny how her version is so much more romantic than mine. They each ask a few more questions before we all finally get back to work. I move my bouquet to the floor beside me, so I can get to my desk. Before I start anything however, I take another long look at them. A much as I wish it were true, I know it would be a lie to say I wasn’t a tiny bit disappointed that the flowers were from Zach and not…well, Nick.
Stupid, I know.
Nick has no reason to send me anything, much less flowers, but I can’t help wondering how my reaction would have differed if the roses had been from him. That’s hardly even a question. The butterflies would have been so real they probably would have made me sick; I would have jumped higher than Bree, and I would’ve gotten absolutely nothing accomplished the rest of the afternoon.
I sigh and turn back to my computer. Sure, that’s what would have been. As it is, however, there are seventeen e-mails that need my attention.
A week later I’m at my favorite Starbucks on the corner of 47TH and 9TH, enjoying a congratulatory peppermint hot chocolate and piece of banana-chocolate chip cake. I’m shocked to even think it, but tomorrow is the SMS party and I’m not dreading it. As of last night, I’ve been out with Zach four times, and I’m glad to find it really is getting easier. Our second date—the evening after he sent me the flowers—was a movie night and went as well as I could have hoped. This past Tuesday we met for lunch, and last night he tried to make me dinner at his apartment. Tried being the key word, as it turned out terrible, and we ended up walking down to a pizza place near his building. But hey, it’s the thought that counts. I am congratulating myself today, because I actually let him hold my hand on the way back from dinner—I was even able to ignore the creepy feeling it sent up my arm—and let him kiss me goodnight on the cheek.
Okay, he’d been going for my lips, but I’d pretended not to realize it and turned my head. I’m not quite ready for all of that just yet. You have to walk before you can run, and I’m not entirely sure I’m done with crawling. But baby steps are still steps, and the hand holding was definitely more than a baby step, and for that I deserve some props.
Go me.
I finish my cake, decide to take the rest of my hot chocolate to go, and start the walk home. I bring my plate to the trash by the pickup counter as a barista calls out a name and order for a grande Americano. As the man steps forward to claim his drink, I nearly choke on mine.
It’s Nick.
His eyes meet mine as he takes his drink and stands in front of me. Meanwhile, I concentrate on pushing my heart back down to my chest and not passing out.
“Hi,” he says, with a shy smile.
Please don’t let my voice crack.
“Hi.”
Whew.
“Are you leaving?” he asks, glancing at the plate I had just put in the dish bin.
Not if you don’t want me to.
“Yes.”
He looks down for a moment, then turns slightly toward the door. “Can I walk with you?”
Yesss! Ahem…I mean…
“Sure.” Blush.
Damn!
He opens the door for me, and we slowly make our way up 9TH Avenue. It’s a nice day out, warm for early October, but you’d never know it with the way I’m shaking.
What’s going on? Does he want to talk? Are we friends now? Does he need something? What do I say?
We walk along without speaking for a few minutes, neither one of us looking at the other. Both of us seem to be trying to pretend this isn’t as awkward as it obviously is. Just as I begin to wonder if either of us will speak at all, he clears his throat.
“Were you surprised when you heard the news? About Chris and Bree, I mean,” he adds, though I know what he means.
“I was.” I chuckle in spite of myself. “Actually, I still can’t believe it. I met Bree over five years ago, and I have only known her to date like, three or four guys, and even those she was only with for a few weeks.” Besides the fact that I thought she was with you.
“Chris too,” he says, smiling at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. “I’ve never heard him talk about dating anyone. The only thing he’s ever said was that he took one of his cousins to the prom, and even that was only because his mom forced him to go.”
We both laugh, and I realize with relief that the awkwardness is gone.
“I can believe it. Debbie is something else. I swear, if you didn’t know any better, you would think she’s the one getting married.”
“I know! Chris is the last person I would pict
ure having a huge, lavish wedding. He and Bree would probably be as happy to go to City Hall. Derek works there, so he could hook them up.”
“But Debbie would definitely disown them both!”
We laugh again, then lapse into an easy silence. A few blocks later, we pause just short of the intersection I need to cross to get home. I’ve had a question on the tip of my tongue for two blocks now, and I’m almost out of time.
Come on, grow a pair and speak up!
“Are you coming to the party tomorrow?” I ask before I can wimp out. It’s a reasonable question. After all, as a client, he would have been invited. There is no reason for my heart to be hammering in my chest.
“I wasn’t sure,” he says, eyes shifting down. “Will you be there?” He looks at me, and I’m suddenly struck by the tender longing in his expression. I try to speak but can’t find words. After a moment in a completely helpless trance, I nod.
“Then I’ll see you there.” He smiles and walks off down the street, leaving me standing in a stupor.
He wants me to be there? He didn’t know if he was going, but I am, so now he is too? Did I hear that right? Was that really what he said? He wants to see me?
He wants to see me?
I float home on some lovesick high, and before I know it I’m sitting on my couch, staring blankly at the wall. Nick will be at the party because I will be there. It’s almost like the words are from a different language and didn’t belong together in the same sentence. Something pops inside me, and I have a burst of energy. I hop up, grab my purse, and head for the door, but not before looking at the time: 6:43. Twenty-four hours and seventeen minutes until Nick and I are at the same party. With a giggle, I pull out my phone and call Bree to see if she wants to meet me down at Macy’s. I suddenly have the urge to buy a new dress.
15
MY CAB PULLS UP in front of the New York Public Library, and I step out, trying—and failing horribly—to be graceful and ladylike in my new heels. I was an idiot yesterday, and bought cute shoes that were on sale and matched my new dress, failing to consider that they had four inch heels, and I have never worn anything over two. They are currently turning what should be a grand and elegant entrance into something that resembles the first steps of a newborn giraffe.
