by Sylvie Fox
“What song is that?”
“’Love in the Afternoon.’ It was a song from a movie with Hepburn and Cooper. Did you get any?”
Holly could feel heat creeping from her neck to her cheeks. “Nick and I… may have.”
The sound of clapping hands came through the receiver. “Congratulations. Did he have work to do?”
“Um, no. I don’t think so.” Holly answered. It was sometimes hard to keep up with Sophie.
“So where the hell is he? I IM you, I text, I call, and he’s never there.”
Holly’s mood sobered. “I kind of kicked him out.”
“What the fuck?”
“If you must know, the sex was great. You were right about getting back out there, but he started talking about feelings and this, whatever we’re doing—did—is not about that.”
“Not about what?”
“You know where I am. It’s no secret. I want marriage, kids, the whole nine yards.”
“And Nick wants a relationship. Relationships lead to marriage. I feel like I missed something.”
“He’s not right for me, now. Plus, you know I have rules.”
“Rules, schmules. Are you going to see him again, or did you toss him out for good?”
The thought of not seeing Nick again made Holly’s heart hurt. “I don’t know.”
Sophie’s disagreement was obvious from all the sighing and harrumphing. But the dog started barking. Sophie had to get off the phone, and couldn’t harass her anymore.
Holly went back to cleaning the kitchen. Next she attacked the bedroom, pulling the sheets from the bed. It had taken all her strength and resolve to send Nick packing after what they’d shared that afternoon. But, she needed some time alone.
It was times like these that she wished her grandmother were alive to give her sage advice. Her brain was screaming for her to get Nick out of her life now. Her body, and her heart were a different matter. He could be so much more than a one or two night stand. If only he were older, more settled, he might be just the person to fill the lonely space in her heart.
Chapter Five
Nick lied. Maybe it wasn’t so much a lie but more of an omission. If Holly thought their relationship would have no strings, then so be it. He had waited this long. He could wait some more. He could show the patience of Job. After being with her last night, he wanted her for keeps. He had been more than halfway in love with her for the last year or so. Their last two “dates” and had pushed him over the edge.
What had him racking his brain was figuring out how to convince her that he wasn’t one of the commitment phobic, hook-up-with-girls-today-leave-them-crying-tomorrow players she associated with people in his generation. With no immediate solution in mind, Nick called his father. Maybe if they got some work done on the house, he’d feel better.
Nick helped his dad carry up five-gallon drums of paint, rollers, and an extra ladder. He would not think about Holly. He would not think about Holly. He’d think about painting his bedroom.
“So, Nicky, you gotta tell me. Why the change in color?” Dominic Andreis asked, his Chicago accent thick despite his years in southern California. “The guys at the paint store were laughing their asses off when I told them it was for my son’s bedroom.”
Dominic was an old school kind of guy. He’d been a contractor all of his life and was a man’s man all the way through. Nick could see how his dad had some questions about this sudden shift from a manly navy to a less masculine crimson bedroom. He didn’t answer the question. Instead, he asked his own once they had settled into a good painting rhythm.
“Dad, how did you convince Mom to marry you?”
Nick missed his mother. He didn’t really talk about her much with his Dad because the topic clearly pained the older man. Nick’s mother, Iris, had been every child’s dream. She’d always been there for him and his siblings. It had been devastating to all of them when she got sick and died unexpectedly of pancreatic cancer. It was one of the reasons, Nick thought, that his father had sold their childhood home, and everyone had scattered around the globe.
“Whoa, ho,” Dominic said, and raised his eyebrows knowingly. “Ahh, all this is about a girl. Now I understand the sudden need to work on the house this weekend. You think she’ll like this color?”
“She’s not a girl. She’s very much a woman, Dad.”
“Sorry, can’t keep up with the newfangled lingo.” Dominic smiled, but his eyes became more serious as he thought about his wife. “Iris almost didn’t marry me.”
Nick was taken aback. “But I thought you guys were childhood sweethearts.”
“We never told you the whole story because you didn’t need to know.” Dominic paused. “Maybe now you do.”
“So, what happened?” Nick asked impatiently, his roller slipping sideways, marring the wet paint.
“Pay attention to what you’re doing, Nicky. You can paint and listen at the same time,” his father admonished.
Nick, sighed, picked up a brush, and began fixing the small mistake he had made.
“Like I’ve always told you, we met in junior high. I proposed to her during our senior year at , but she turned me down.
“Your grandpa didn’t want an Italian girl like her marrying an Orthodox Greek guy like me—culture clash and all that. So I moved out here to apprentice with your uncle Alessandro, and forget about her. No matter how many dances I went to, or girls I dated, I could not get your mother out of my mind. A couple years later, I heard that she had gotten engaged.
“After a lot of bluster on my part about how I would speak now and never hold my peace at her wedding, Alex and I drove back to Chicago in a used 1946 Plymouth Deluxe—I’ll never forget that car—and we busted up her wedding. Your mom and I eloped the next day, and the rest, as they say, is history.
“It took a number of years, after you and your brother and sister were born, for her parents to forgive me. But I loved her. She never had to work. I made a good living for us until the day she died, God rest her soul.”
“I never knew this,” Nick said, truly understanding for the first time how deep his parents’ love must have been.
“Nicky, the bottom line is, if you love her, go after her,” Dominic said with a twinkle in his eye. “Now, when do I get to meet this little filly?”
Nick hesitated a moment. “You’ve already met her.”
“You haven’t brought any girls around since your mom died. I think I would have noticed a pretty, young thing hanging about. I may be old, but I’m not quite dead.”
“You met her a couple of years ago at her house on Thanksgiving. Her name is Holly Bu—um, Prentice.”
“Is it that girl with the crazy colored hair and all those earrings?”
“I’ve told you before Dad, that’s Sophie. Holly’s the one with the beautiful, curly hair. She cooked, remember?”
“But isn’t she married to that uptight entertainment exec, Andrew something?” His father scowled at what he could only assume were Nick’s adulterous thoughts. “You got the part of the story where I rescued your mom before she was married to another guy, right?”
“Dad, you raised me better than that. She separated from Drew two years ago. They’ve been divorced about a year.”
Dominic nodded, his memory jogged. “I liked her, Nick—boy, could she cook. If you’re sure, then you should go after her. Life is too short not to be with the woman you love.” Finished with the first coat of the deep red paint, they descended the ladders. “Now, maybe she’ll take you seriously if you cut your hair,” Dominic said as he playfully ruffled his son’s paint-flecked strands.
“I think she likes the hair just fine, Dad,” Nick said blushing, remembering her grabbing his hair, more than once, in the heat of their passion.
“So, tell me, kiddo, what kind of plan do you have? I don’t want any man in our family ruining another wedding.”
Chapter Six
“I’ll be over in half an hour,” he said, his voice crackly throug
h his cell phone.
“Okay,” Holly said brightly. “I’m looking forward to it.” She hung up the phone and checked herself in the mirror again. Except for Nick, because their last two encounters certainly didn’t count, Holly hadn’t been on a date in more than six years.
After going back and forth in her mind what seemed like a thousand times, Holly had decided to take the plunge and start dating again. If Nick had done anything for her, he’d freed her from her two-year bout of celibacy. Her girlfriends were right. Sophie was right. It was time to move on from being the victim of her divorce. She wasn’t the first woman to have her marriage unexpectedly crumble, and she couldn’t let it keep her down forever.
Nick was great. Really great, if she were being honest with herself, but not long-term relationship material. If her goal was permanency, to settle down, she needed to look at more suitable, age appropriate, marriageable candidates. Ryan Becker, her date tonight, certainly fit the bill.
Smoothing down the well-fitted caramel-colored shirtdress she knew complimented her golden eyes, Holly opened the door when she heard heavy footfalls on the tile stairs. She quickly closed the door behind her to avoid the awkwardness of feeling obligated to invite him in for a drink.
“Ryan, it’s good to see you,” Holly said, hugging him in greeting. Holly tried her darnedest not to compare Ryan to Nick as she broke the embrace. He was taller and stockier than Nick. Styled blond hair surrounded his boyish face, and ocean blue eyes gave him that classic California surfer look.
Looking beyond her toward the door of her apartment, he asked, “Do you need anything else or are you ready to go?”
“I’m ready,” Holly said,, shouldering her bag and gathering the tissue thin, fringed cashmere wrap around her shoulders.
All chivalry and politeness, Ryan escorted her downstairs, guiding her by the small of her back. He opened the passenger door of his sleek new Acura TL and helped her in. Holly belted herself in to the car, admiring the sleek buttery leather, as Ryan got into the driver’s side. It was just the kind of car she would expect a lawyer to have, obviously expensive but not too ostentatious.
“I hope you like the restaurant,” he said, and Holly thought she heard the faintest quiver of nerves in his voice. She felt for him because she wasn’t nervous at all. Her main goal was to enjoy herself and not think about Nick with his model good looks, his kindness, how he made her feel when the lights went out.
“I’m sure I’ll like it fine,” Holly said, refocusing her thoughts back on the man at hand. To help dispel his nervousness, she filled the car with chatter about the project where they had met. Even though Ryan had worked as an attorney at Equia for years, Holly had only met him a year ago when she needed some help on a contract with a non-profit agency. He’d advised her on that project and, because they got along so well, they shared coffee at the commissary on more than one occasion.
She’d been surprised several months later when he’d shown up one Saturday to help her on a community project. He was a nice, single guy who seemed to be interested in her, if his not-so-subtle mentions of dinner were any indication. So, she finally accepted an invitation for a bona fide date.
She was curious when they made their way southwest to Culver City near the studio and not the usual restaurant meccas of Beverly Hills or Santa Monica. Culver was a small city surrounded by the larger metropolis of Los Angeles. It had once been the heart of the early century movie industry, the home of classics like the Wizard of Oz. After many of the studios had moved to Burbank and surrounding areas in the San Fernando Valley, seeking acres of space in the sunny climate, only Equia and a couple of other industry players remained nearby. Despite that, the city had recently gone through a renaissance and many new restaurants and night clubs had located in the downtown area. They pulled up to the valet in front of a restaurant Holly knew to be owned by the son of a major A list action star.
Of course, Ryan had conscientiously made reservations, and without delay they were escorted to a quiet corner booth in an otherwise raucous restaurant, filled with the lingering happy-hour crowd from the nearby studios.
Sipping the apple-cinnamon old fashioned she’d ordered, Holly set her mind to getting to know Ryan better and forgetting Nick, for at least a few hours.
“So, tell me, what brought you to Los Angeles?” Holly asked, smiling and leaning forward, acquitting herself like a woman on a first date should. After all, Ryan was a perfectly nice guy.
Ryan explained that he’d always wanted to work in the entertainment industry. That and strong family ties had lured him back to the City of Angels after a long stint in school back east. As they worked their way through Tuscan style flattened chicken and smoked trout salad, she realized that Ryan was the perfect marriage candidate. He enjoyed his work; he was a couple of years older than her and talked about being ready to settle down. In a perfect world, she should be ready to walk down the aisle with a guy like this—in a heartbeat.
Yet the evening was a disaster.
She sipped from her wine glass and pushed around her uneaten dinner, gathering her courage.
“Hey there,” she said softly, stopping him in the middle of a sentence. “I can see this isn’t going anywhere between us. What’s really on your mind tonight?”
Ryan closed his blue eyes briefly. “I met someone.”
Holly’s release of breath was audible. “That’s such a weight off my shoulders. I met someone, too. Well not exactly someone new, but I’m sort of involved with someone I’ve known for a long time, though I don’t think I want to be,” she said shaking her head. “Sorry, that was probably too much information. Tell me about the woman you met.”
“I met this woman. I can’t… get out of my mind.”
“What’s she like?” Holly said, really focusing on what Ryan was saying for the first time that evening. Maybe she could give him advice about his budding romance. She obviously didn’t understand a thing about men. But women, she knew.
“She’s nothing like me. It was like a breath of fresh air. I met her in the craziest way. We were trying to save this dog on the freeway—”
Holly interrupted before he could finish his thought. “You’re talking about Sophie? My best friend, Sophie Reid?” she asked, suddenly feeling more energetic than she had been anytime that night. This was the most bizarre coincidence.
“I didn’t exactly get her name.”
“Well how would you describe her?”
“She’s about five-foot three or four with yellow—no, now I think it’s red—hair and a sunflower yellow Volkswagen Beetle with this clever vanity plate.”
“EW A BUG,” they said together, laughing.
“That’s definitely Sophie,” she said. Still, this didn’t bode well. Sophie went out a lot, but didn’t date any one guy more than a few times. Lawyers were on the top of her “never” list. If Sophie weren’t so stubborn, Holly thought they might actually be good together. “Are you guys—um—seeing each other?” she asked politely, though the answer was obvious.
“She won’t see me,” he said soberly. “I’m pretty sure there’s something between us. I mean, on the surface we don’t have much in common, but I’m still intrigued.”
“Mmm, she doesn’t date lawyers, you know,” Holly said, hedging. She was not a meddler. “It’s kind of a bright line rule with her.”
“Why?”
“I don’t feel comfortable disclosing that,” Holly said. She didn’t want to get into Sophie’s family issues or hang-ups. “That’s something she should explain to you herself, I think.”
“I don’t exactly know how to contact her,” Ryan protested, taking on a lost little boy look that she imagined most women couldn’t help but find endearing. “Can you give me her number at least?”
Holly wasn’t the least bit affected by his plea. Best friends were good at sticking together. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard someone’s voice,” she said, looking over to the bar crowded three-deep. The wavelike movement of the pe
ople at the bar distracted her for a long moment before she turned back to the table.
“Ryan, I don’t think I’d feel comfortable going against her wishes like that,” she said firmly. “I can tell you that she’s helping me do some volunteer work at the Korby Center next weekend.”
“The Korby Center?”
“You know I organize volunteer events for Equia, right? Well I’ve had a little problem getting volunteers for this event next weekend. We’re supposed to landscape and redecorate a residential home for foster kids who’ve aged out of the system.”
“Oh, I saw that in last month’s Otter newsletter. It seems worthwhile. I’m surprised more people from work didn’t volunteer.”
“Well, it’s not too late to add yourself to the list. We can always use more volunteers. Plus, I guarantee Sophie will be there.”
He nodded, smiling once again. “I’d love to help you out.”
Holly chuckled. “I’m sure the Korby kids will appreciate your altruism. I’ll email you the details.” She studied his crisp tailored clothes. He was a “suit” through and through. Maybe Sophie could loosen him up. “Oh, and you should dress down… way down.”
Great. Now she was hearing voices. No matter how hard she tried, Holly could not shake her thoughts of Nick. It had been like this all week. A baritone voice breaking out from the crowd, a sudden laugh. Every single time it was like time stood still. She turned around in circles, looking, expecting to hear his happy greeting. It was utterly distracting. Tonight was no different. She could only pay partial attention to Ryan. Nick so filled her thoughts, she was sure she heard his voice even as she and Ryan finished up with caffè lattes, and prepared to leave.
Ryan, his hand lightly at her waist, helped her weave through the tables, even more packed by the Friday night crowd than when they entered. Holly heard Nick’s voice again then did a double take. It was actually him this time, not her imagination. There he was, leaning against the bar sharing an after-work drink with what she surmised were friends from the studio.
