In Search of a Love Story (Love Story Book One )

by Rachel Schurig

  I brought the stack of plates that Greg had gotten out over to the dining room table. I had learned pretty quickly that Greg insisted on a properly set table. He had shown me the correct way to lay out dinner, salad, and bread plates, as well as the right silverware to use for each course. I went back to kitchen to get wine glasses—two each, for ice water and wine. Then I went in search of a lighter for the tall taper candles. I didn’t have to look far; it was in the cupboard, exactly where it should be.

  Once the table was set, Greg enlisted my help to bring out the serving dishes. I felt my stomach grumble as I sat down. The food smelled amazing.

  “Hand me your plate,” he said, holding out his hand. I did so, and he served me out a portion of some vegetable pasta concoction and a cut of some kind of meat, smothered in the mushroom sauce he’d had me sample earlier. It looked really tender, if a bit under done for my taste.

  “It looks great,” I told him, reaching for the salad bowl. “Thanks.”

  “I was able to get the veal for a really good price this morning,” he said. “It can be hard to find the good stuff.”

  “Veal?” I asked, looking down at the plate. I had never had veal before. Wasn’t veal production supposed to be really cruel?

  “Don’t you like veal?”

  “I’ve never tried it,” I said, feeling a little squeamish. I was no vegetarian. I came from a town where hunting was an all-seasons pursuit. Venison and wild game were standard fare. I pretty much considered steak, burgers, and fish to be three of the major food groups. But something about the thought of those baby calves, trapped and unable to move, made my stomach turn.

  “You’ll like it,” Greg said, his voice dismissive as he turned his attention back to his own meal. “It’s very tender.”

  It would be rude not to try it, I told myself. Just don’t think about it too much…

  “Are you excited for our winery tour?” Greg asked.

  “I am. I haven’t spent much time in that part of the state.”

  “It’s very pretty.” Greg reached for my wine glass, filling it from a bottle of Merlot. I wasn’t crazy about Merlot, but I had learned very early with Greg that wine pairings were important to him. If he had selected that wine to go with this meal, he had a very specific reason for doing it.

  “Thank you,” I said as he handed my glass back.

  “The wineries we’ll see are pretty nice,” he continued. “Of course, they have nothing on the Traverse City area. Someday we’ll do a tour up there, and you’ll see the difference.”

  I felt a little flutter of pleasure. It was nice when Greg talked that way—like the future of our relationship was a given.

  “That would be great,” I said. “Traverse City is beautiful.”

  Greg nodded. “Then again, once you’ve been to Napa and France, any winery in Michigan is going to pale in comparison. But they’re still worth seeing.”

  “When did you go to France?”

  “I spent three months there, actually, my senior year of college. Study abroad.”

  “Wow.” The only other country I had ever been to was Canada. As it was about twenty minutes away from my apartment with Ashley, that was hardly an exotic trip. “I’ve never been abroad. That must have been an amazing experience.”

  “Oh, it was,” Greg said, his face lighting up. He started to tell me a long story about the cities he had visited, the vineyards he had toured, and the restaurants where he had dined. I struggled to stay focused. Sometimes when Greg told me stories about his experiences, they seemed a little impersonal. He hardly ever talked about memories or anecdotes or people he had met. It was more like listening to someone recite a list they had checked off on an itinerary of Must-See-Places-in-Tuscany, or whatever.

  It wasn’t that he was boring. I mean, look at all the things he had seen and done. I probably just had a hard time keeping up because I hadn’t really had any experiences myself.

  That reminded me that I had wanted to talk to Greg about hanging out with my friends. By the time he had finished talking about his study abroad, we had both finished eating and were drinking our second glasses of wine.

  “You know, Ryan spent some time in France after we graduated,” I told him. “I think he was mostly in Paris though.”

  Greg nodded. “Paris is a beautiful city. One of the best in the world.” He smiled at me, his expression so intimate it made my stomach swoop. “Perhaps we could take a trip there. I’d love to show you the sights.”

  My mouth dropped open. Casually mentioning a visit to Traverse City was one thing, but practically inviting me to Paris?

  “That would be amazing,” I whispered.

  Greg leaned toward me. “There are so many amazing things in the world I want to show you, Emily. You have no idea.”

  “Like what?” I felt like my head was spinning. Brooke’s warning about moving too fast flashed through my mind, but I squashed it down. What was I supposed to do, when a man like this was offering me the world?

  Greg took my hand. “Let’s go sit.”

  He led me over to the couch, pulling me down next to him. I snuggled into his chest, feeling small against his large frame. I had spent so much of my life feeling freakishly tall amongst my friends, feeling gawky and awkward. Being with Greg made me feel girlish in a way I had never imagined was possible. It might sound silly, but I loved it.

  With a remote control from the side table, Greg turned the gas fireplace on in front of us. He pressed another button and the soft strains of classical music could be heard from some unseen speaker.

  “This is the Madrid Symphony Orchestra,” he told me, resting his chin on the top of my head. His voice was low, somehow soothing and exciting me at the same time. “I saw them perform when I was in Spain.” He kissed my hair. “I can see us now, walking through el Parque del Buen Retiro, stopping somewhere for tapas, sitting in a café in Plaza Mayor, drinking wine and people-watching.”

  “That sounds beautiful,” I breathed.

  “You’re beautiful, Emily.” He tilted my chin up so I was looking into his face, so close to my own. His words, the nearness of him, had already sent a blush to my cheeks. “So very beautiful. You deserve to see all the beauty of the world. Though none of it will compare to you.”

  Wow. He was good. I mean, I know it was just a line, but still.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. Greg only shook his head, a slight smile on his face. Then he was kissing me.

  As he wrapped his arms around me, and later, as he led me to his bedroom, his words kept running over and over around in my head. He thought I was beautiful. He wanted to show me the world.

  “Emily,” he whispered in the darkness, leaning over me on the bed. “I think I’m falling for you.”

  I looked up into his dark eyes. The spinning in my head, the swooping of my stomach, the mad beating of my heart, all threatened to overwhelm me. Maybe that’s what I was feeling right now. Maybe I was falling for him too.

  “Me too,” I whispered, rising up to kiss him. “Me too.”

  I hadn’t slept with many guys in my life. Brooke sometimes teased me about it, about how I took the whole matter way too seriously. Now, with Greg, I was glad I had been choosey. No one else had ever made me feel so special, so cherished. And even though I didn’t feel the earth shattering around me, as Brooke so often claimed happened to her, it was one of the sweetest, nicest experiences of my life.

  It wasn’t until much later, lying in the warmth of Greg’s arms as he slept behind me, that I remembered that I was going to ask him to spend time with my friends. Oh well, I thought, snuggling closer to him, my heart practically bursting with happiness. I had plenty of time for all that. I had a feeling this man was going to be around for a long, long time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What the hell are you so chipper about?”

  I had been heading to the storeroom to get more resistance bands when I passed Kelly Lee, another therapist in the practice. Kelly was one of my least f
avorite people to work with. She had a crappy attitude and a tendency to be short with the patients, especially the elderly ones. But today, not even she could bring me down. I’d had yet another fantastic night with Greg the night before, and our winery trip was only days away.

  I smiled at her. “It’s a beautiful spring day,” I said. “And I have fifteen minutes until my lunch break. What isn’t there to be chipper about?”

  “Whatever,” she muttered, heading back to the therapy floor where I could hear Mrs. Z loudly opining about what she would do to “that handsome Brad Pitt” if only she could get him in a room alone. I smirked and continued to the storeroom.

  At the back of the clinic, I saw that the door to the storeroom was already open, the light inside clearly on. I walked in and found Sam, the owner of the clinic, with a clipboard. He appeared to be taking inventory of the equipment.

  “Hey,” I said, surprised to see him. Sam’s company ran an entire system of health care practices—from clinics like this to a nursing placement center to equipment and supply retail stores. He was usually far too busy to stop by, leaving the day-to-day running of the place to Michael.

  “Oh, hi, Emily,” he said, looking up at me. He seemed distracted, anxious almost.

  “I didn’t know you were here today,” I said, passing him to get to the shelf that held the extra resistance bands. “How are you?”

  “Fine, fine.” He turned back to his clipboard. “Just trying to get a feel for the current inventory.”

  I frowned to myself. Sam tended to complain whenever we put in a requisition form for new supplies. Maybe Michael had placed an order recently. I hoped Sam wouldn’t be a jerk to him about it. It was hard to run a clinic without the basics like stretchy bands and clean towels.

  “Well, better get back out there,” I said, holding up the package of bands. “These keep breaking on us. One stung Mr. Taylor’s leg pretty badly when it snapped.

  “Uh huh,” Sam said, clearly not listening to me as he studied his clipboard. I took my bands and walked back out to the therapy floor to find Michael. He was standing in the back of the room at the dryer, folding fresh towels.

  “Hey,” I said softly, looking around to make sure Kelly wasn’t in hearing range. “What’s Sam doing here?”

  Michael looked up at me, his expression clearly stressed. “He’s still here?” He peered over my shoulder, as if he’d be able to verify that Sam was back there. “He came in this morning for a meeting, I thought he’d be gone by now.”

  “He’s taking inventory of the storeroom.”

  Michael sighed. “Just great,” he muttered, picking up a stack of towels.

  “Is something going on?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  Michael looked at me for a minute. “Nothing to worry about,” he finally said.

  “Michael. Come on. I can tell something’s up. Are you in trouble with Sam?”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that,” he assured me. “I promise.” When I didn’t look reassured, he went on. “Look, I swear I’ll tell you if it gets serious, but right now there’s just some talk of restructuring the company. Nothing has been decided so there’s not much point in worrying about it.”

  “But—”

  “And,” he lowered his voice. “I would rather not talk about it with Kelly here, okay?”

  I could understand that. The last thing anyone would want was that girl on their case. “Okay,” I said. “But you better tell me about it if you hear anything else.”

  “I promise,” Michael said, putting his hand over his heart.

  “Emily,” Frank bellowed from the front of the room. “Are you coming back or am I allowed to leave now?”

  I shook my head at Michael. “Duty calls.”

  Frank was sitting on the edge of Mrs. Z’s table. She actually appeared to be working today, for once. She was much more accustomed to leaning against her pillows with a heat pack, complaining about how her medicines made her too groggy for exercise. I usually reminded her that if she actually did some work we could probably get her off her meds a lot faster, but my recriminations typically fell on deaf ears.

  “Quit your yelling,” I said to Frank, grabbing his arm and pulling him up off the table. “If you’re in such a hurry, you could have always jumped on the bike or gotten started on your weights.”

  “I never do anything without your express permission,” he said, grinning at me. “I know what you women are like. As soon as a man exerts any free will, you squash it right down.”

  “I’ll squash something,” I muttered, grasping his shoulders and pushing him toward the standing leg station. I opened the resistance band package and removed the lowest level band. It had the least amount of resistance built in, and would be perfect for Frank’s next exercise.

  “Stay still,” I ordered, kneeling down at his side and wrapping the band around his ankles, tying the ends together so it was loose enough for him to walk. “Okay,” I said. “Take a few steps and let me see how that fits.” He did as I asked, and I stood up. “Looks pretty good. Okay, I want you to take nice slow steps from one side of the room to the other.”

  “How many sets?”

  “Just keep going till I tell you to stop.”

  At the front of the room, a bell rang, signaling someone opening the door. I looked over to see Elliot entering the clinic, his lunch bag in hand. I smiled. It had been a while since we’d had lunch together. I was doing a lot of shopping on my lunch breaks these days, trying to keep my wardrobe up to par with the consistently fantastic string of restaurants and clubs Greg took me to. I had never worn so many dresses in my life—and I had finally just about mastered walking in heels.

  “Hey, stranger,” Frank called out. “Long time no see.”

  “What are you still doing here, old man?” Elliot asked, joining us. “Aren’t you any better yet?”

  “I’m getting there,” Frank said, puffing up his chest. “I could give you a run for your money, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Elliot slapped him on the back. “I’d love to see that.”

  “Frank,” I said, my voice firm. “Quit stalling.”

  “You see what I put up with?” he asked Elliot.

  “Frank…”

  “I heard you the first time.” Frank got started, and I watched him for a moment, checking his form.

  “Hey, buddy, looking good,” Michael called from Mrs. Z’s table.

  Frank chortled. “You know what this reminds me of? This is just like when I left my girlfriend’s house last night.” He looked up at me. When my face remained blank, he went on, “She got stroppy when I called her by the wrong name, and I had to high tail it out of there with my underwear down around my ankles.”

  “Oh dear God,” I muttered, turning away as Frank laughed uproariously at his own joke. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Michael quietly cracking up. Even Elliot looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You want to take over with him?” I called to Michael. He nodded, still laughing. “Then I’m officially on lunch.” I turned to Elliot. “Gonna join me? Or did you want to stay here and make crude jokes with this dirty old man?”

  “Sorry, Frank,” Elliot said. “I’m with Emily on this one.”

  Frank was still laughing as I made my way to the back hallway. I noticed the light to the storeroom was off, the door now closed. It seemed like Sam had finally left. My stomach dipped a little. Frank had kept my mind off of it, but now I was wondering again whether I needed to be worried about the clinic.

  In the office, I pulled my Tupperware container out of my bag, taking the top off before popping it in the microwave. From my bag, I pulled my bottled water and an orange. When the microwave dinged, I took my food and sat down next to Elliot, who was already munching on his sandwich.

  “What’s that?” he asked, peering into the container. “Some kind of take-out?”

  “No, actually,” I said, smiling at him a little smugly. “It’s leftovers. From the dinner I made last night.”r />
  Elliot made a big show of gasping and falling off his chair. I rolled my eyes at him, but grinned all the same. “I never thought I’d see the day,” he said, shaking his head. “You actually cooked?”

  “I’ve been practicing,” I told him proudly. “I can already brown meat, sauté veggies, and boil pasta.”

  “Wow,” Elliot said. “I’m impressed. What’s brought on this new-found dedication to the culinary arts?”

  “Greg enrolled us in a class,” I said, stirring the rice and veggie dish in front of me. “We’ve only had one session but it was pretty fun, actually. He knows all the ins and outs already, but he’s very patient with me. He says I’m actually not half-bad.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re trying something new.” Elliot crumpled up his sandwich bag and pulled his bag of carrots closer. “So, are we ever going to meet this mystery man?”

  “Probably.” I frowned. It hadn’t really occurred to me to bring Greg by the clinic. Though he’d picked me up from work a few times, he had never shown any interest in coming inside. “He works so much though, I don’t know when he would have time.”

  Elliot nodded and went back to his food. It was quiet for a few minutes as we both ate. There seemed to be a bit of tension in the air, and I wondered if it was my fault. I wasn’t overly concerned about what Michael had said, but maybe I was sending out some worried vibes.

  “Oh, I meant to tell you,” Elliot turned to me, his face eager. “The Adventurers Club is going camping this weekend. I think you should get Chris and Ashley and Ryan and come along.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him. “I cannot imagine Ryan camping. I mean, would he have to sleep outside? That is so not happening.”