by Aven Ellis
I laugh as I take out my wallet, too. “Of course. My mistake. And this is on me, by the way.” I’m about to hand the clerk my Starbucks reloadable card when Deke stops me.
“What are you doing?” he asks, creasing his brow.
I furrow my brow back at him. Except he probably can’t see it behind my humongous sunglasses.
“Paying for your drink,” I say, wondering why this is confusing him. “I asked you to come here, didn’t I?”
“But you don’t have to do that. Really.”
“No, I don’t, but I want to,” I say, handing the card to the clerk, who immediately swipes it. He returns my card, and I tuck it back into my little Coach wallet.
I glance up at Deke, and a mystified look passes over his face.
“Thank you,” he says, still studying me.
“You act like a woman has never treated you to anything before.”
“You’re the first.”
My eyes widen in surprise. Wow. Are most women like Sasha? Ones who expect a man to pay for everything all the time? That just doesn’t seem fair to me.
“Well, I’m glad we did this today for that reason alone,” I say, smiling at him.
We get our drinks and find a quiet table next to the window, so we can see Armitage Avenue. I bravely remove my sunglasses and drop them into my tote.
“How does it feel?” he asks, concern in his voice.
“I really don’t notice it now,” I say honestly.
Because at this moment, the only thing I’m aware of is getting to spend this day with Deke.
I’m about to start my interrogation but Deke speaks first.
“I need to read Ask Emily,” he says, picking up the copy of the Vibe that I’ve put down on our table.
“What? You don’t seriously want to read that, do you?”
“Of course I do,” he says, flipping the tabloid open. “I might be underestimating Emily’s ability to advise the population on the trials and tribulations of life.”
I burst out laughing.
Deke grins at me, and his eyes crinkle up in the corners as he does. And as I take a sip of my cappuccino, I already know that he has a good sense of humor.
“Here we go,” Deke says. He clears his throat and begins reading. “Dear Emily, I don’t know what to do. My last boyfriend cheated on me. I’m with a new guy now, but I’m always reading his text messages when he leaves his phone out and checking his Connectivity page to see who he’s been talking to. I trust him completely, but I always want to know what he’s doing. But this is normal, isn’t it? Sincerely, Social Media Checker in Wicker Park.”
He lifts his eyes from the paper and glances up at me. “Got that?”
“I’m with you,” I say. “Go on.”
“Here’s Emily’s answer: Dear Social Media Checker, It’s obvious he must be untrustworthy if you are checking his accounts—” Deke abruptly stops reading and glances up at me. “Are you kidding me? That’s her advice?”
“Keep reading,” I say, taking another sip of coffee.
He sighs and goes back to the column. “. . . so I would point-blank ask him if he’s cheating and then be prepared to move on if he is. Sincerely, Emily.”
And as soon as Deke finishes, he roars with laughter. “Shit. That is the stupidest advice ever.”
“Well, Dr. Ryan, how would you advise Social Media Checker?”
“My advice,” he says, “is to tell Social Media Checker this isn’t about her boyfriend but her own issues. People have to trust each other for a relationship to work. A good relationship isn’t based on spying. It’s based on two people who respect and love each other. And that includes respecting a right to privacy. If you don’t have that, you don’t have much of a relationship in the first place.”
Oh my God. I stare at Deke in complete awe as he nonchalantly takes a sip of his soymilk vanilla latte. As if this is an everyday thing for a twenty-something guy to say. And yet I’m sitting across the table from him in shock, blown away by how sensitive and intelligent he is.
“Okay,” he commands, interrupting my thoughts, “I have my drink. Let the interrogation begin.”
I laugh with embarrassment and toy with the cardboard holder around my cup in an effort to avoid his teasing gaze.
“I don’t think I’d call it an interrogation, per se, but I am curious to know about you.”
“Like what?” Deke asks, leaning back in his chair.
Everything, I find myself thinking as I gaze at him. I want to know everything.
Chapter 9
This is the best conversation I’ve ever had.
I take a sip of my bottled water—as Deke and I had finished our coffee more than an hour ago—and we took a walk down to Oz Park so we could keep talking. Oz Park is a fantastic park within Lincoln Park—it’s in honor of Lyman Frank Baum, who wrote the Wizard of Oz—and the entire theme of the park is based around that book.
So Deke and I sought out all the character sculptures, with me declaring Dorothy was the best one because of the red shoes she wore—and I immediately said he shouldn’t say a single word about my love of shoes if he cared to live—and he picked the Tin Man as his favorite because he liked the design of that sculpture the best.
Now we’re strolling through The Emerald Garden, which is in glorious bloom on this summer day, and he’s telling me more about his travels abroad. I listen to him speak of Buenos Aires, his favorite place in South America.
“I think you would love Buenos Aires,” he says as we walk. “It’s a glamorous city. There are coffeehouses, wine bars, a good nightlife, and last but not least, shopping with a very favorable exchange rate.”
“Oh details, please. Especially on the coffeehouses and shopping.”
He grins and complies, going into detail for me, just as he has done all afternoon. And I’ve learned like a million interesting things about him along the way.
Although Deke is only 26, he’s traveled the world for the First Class Travel Channel. And in a way, he’s shown me the world, too, as we stroll through this special park. He has this really uncanny way of describing a place so I can see it just perfectly in my head. I feel like I’m right there whenever he tells me about another place he’s been.
“Another cool place in Buenos Aires is Milion,” he says. “It’s a mansion that has been renovated into a restaurant and bar. It has the most amazing garden courtyard . . .”
I go through the garden at Milion with him in my head, content to listen to his slightly raspy voice take me to Argentina. I’ve already been to Kenya on an African safari, to ancient temples in Japan, and to high tea on Queen Victoria Island in Canada.
But I’ve learned other things about Deke, too. Like he’s wanted to travel ever since his father bought him an atlas of the world when he was a little boy. That he grew up in Chicago, with his younger brother, Zach, who is also a videographer for the First Class Travel Channel. He was raised in the same neighborhood his parents grew up in, with his father being a worker for the city sanitation department and his mom being a stay-at-home mom. Family vacations consisted of trips to St. Louis and Wisconsin.
So Deke went to Columbia College here in Chicago and studied cinema art and science. He vowed to fill up his passport with stamps before he hit 30, a goal he’s obviously already achieved.
He takes another sip of his water as he finishes telling me about Buenos Aries.
“Okay, you have to be bored by now, Fashionista,” Deke says, throwing his empty bottle into a trash can. “I think I’ve told you every interesting place I’ve ever been.”
“No, we have one continent left,” I declare. “You haven’t told me your favorite place in Europe.”
Deke grins at me, and my spine tingle with warmth.
“You never get tired o
f being inquisitive, do you?”
“Nope. I love learning new things. So please answer the question, Mr. Ryan.”
He rubs his hand along his jaw. “Croatia. Definitely Croatia.”
I raise my brow, surprised. I thought he’d say Italy or France or something like that.
“Croatia? Why Croatia?” I ask, very curious.
“The Dalmatian Coast is insanely beautiful. The waters of the Adriatic are blue and clear. The coasts are rocky and have huge pine trees that seem to jet up to the sky. The architecture dates back to the 15th century. And the coastal town of Hvar has fields of lavender and wild rosemary. Every time I think of it, I can still smell it.”
I close my eyes for a second, picturing it in my mind, and a wonderful scent arises. “I can, too.”
“So when are you going?”
My eyes immediately flip open. “What?”
“You work for an international airline. You can fly for free, Avery. And you have pass privileges on other airlines, so there’s no reason in the world why you can’t go to Croatia.”
Shit. Deke has no idea that I’d love to do nothing more than shop in Buenos Aires or inhale the wild rosemary in Hvar, but this whole fear of flying thing keeps me rooted to places I can go in a car.
Like Detroit.
Anyway, I digress. Even though I want to see the world, the idea of being trapped on an airplane and flying over an ocean makes me sick to my stomach.
“Well, I have to earn enough vacation time before I can take one,” I point out.
He nods and looks straight ahead at the gardens, and I’m glad that he buys that answer. I decide to move him off the travel subject before he comes up with some bargain saving way to send me off to Hvar. But before I can ask him another question, he comes back with a question for me.
“So what made you move to Lincoln Park?” Deke asks. “Besides the fact that it’s in the fashionista handbook, I mean.”
I laugh, and so does Deke.
“Isn’t this park reason enough?” I say. “It’s a gem if you ask me. A park dedicated to one of the classic books of all time. That’s unique and special. And I can come here anytime I want to relive the magic of that book. Which I do often, because it’s one of my all-time favorites.”
He turns toward me. In a way I hate that we are outside because his eyes are covered by his aviators again, but the smile spreading across his face tells me everything I need to know.
“Yeah, this park is special,” Deke says. “And I like how meaningful it is to you.”
My heart flips excitedly inside my chest. He appreciates my sentimentality, I think. He completely gets it.
He gets me.
Deke clears his throat. “But park aside, what else brought you here?”
“On a much smaller scale, I wanted to see something different, like you did. I grew up in the suburbs. But I love being in the city. There’s so much to explore and discover. Even figuring out who has the best Chinese takeout is an adventure. Lincoln Park has lots of people my age, restaurants, bars, and there’s good shopping, too. It just made sense.”
“You’ve led me to my next question. Not that I don’t think you’ll be great at marketing, but it seems like to me you’d be a natural at fashion merchandising. Why did you go into the airline industry?”
“I thought about merchandising,” I say slowly. “But I’m terrible at math. I couldn’t major in it because I can’t even calculate tip in my head, let alone do accounting.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Me, too.”
“Really?” I ask. Deke sounds so intelligent that I can’t imagine him being bad at anything.
“I hate math. I hated school, actually. I’m not into sitting still behind a desk for eight hours a day. That’s my idea of torture.” Then he shakes his head. “But we’re talking about you now. So why the airline industry?”
“They were hiring,” I say before I can stop myself. Oh, shit! I instantly start to turn red, my cheeks and neck flaming in mortification. “I . . . I . . . mean . . .”
“It’s okay,” he says, interrupting me. “I’m not shooting, remember?”
I exhale, trusting his word. “Okay.”
“So you really don’t have an interest in developing a marketing career, do you?”
“I’ve always thought more about what my family life will be like more than a professional career life,” I say honestly, telling him something I’ve never really said aloud before. “I want to be married, I want to have kids. Do you?” I suddenly ask, needing to know that detail about him.
“Yeah, someday I do,” Deke says slowly, raking a hand through his hair. “I hadn’t thought about it recently, since I travel so much. This is the first time I’ve had a home assignment in five years.”
Another question springs to my mind. “Why now? Why did you ask for a Chicago assignment?”
“Nope, we’re talking about you now,” he says, grinning. “Pick up where you left off. You want kids . . .”
“Yes. I really want to be a stay-at-home mom like my mom. She’s active in charities and takes classes and dedicated herself to raising me. So I feel that’s what I’m supposed to do, you know? I know it’s not an option for everyone, and I realize it’s a luxury, but I really want to do that if my circumstances permit it. Don’t you think that’s what’s best for kids?”
Deke is silent for a moment. “Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mom stayed at home with me and Zach. But I don’t think she was totally happy and fulfilled by raising us, like your mom was with you.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case,” I say quickly.
“Don’t get me wrong, I know she loved us,” he says. “But at times she seemed bored and frustrated. But if working full-time or part-time would have made her happier, then I think she would have been a better mother. When the time comes and you have to make that decision, you’ll do what is best for you, but don’t rule out working if you find something that inspires you and brings you joy.”
Once again, I’m awestruck by him. Deke somehow manages to make me think about things in ways I’ve never considered.
“You see the world in a way unlike anyone I’ve ever met before,” I say quietly.
“So do you.”
My heart suddenly leaps. What does Deke mean by that? Does he think I’m interesting, too? Is he connecting with me in the way I am with him right now?
“I—”
Suddenly I’m cut off by another voice calling my name.
“Avery!”
I tear my eyes away from Deke and see that Sullivan is heading straight toward us with his black Labrador, Chandler.
Shit, shit, shit.
Deke turns and looks at Sullivan. My heart freezes in my chest. He’ll know who he is the second he says his name, thanks to Sasha’s big mouth.
Panic grips me as Sullivan strolls up to us with his dog. Oh God. Deke will think I’m interested in Sullivan, when nothing could be further from the truth—
“Hey, Little Avery,” Sullivan says, smiling sexily at me. “Imagine meeting you here at the park. It must be my lucky day. Isn’t it, Chandler?”
Chandler barks and wags his tail.
“See, even Chandler knows how lucky I am today.”
A few weeks ago I’d be happily dying from this exchange. I’d be telling Sullivan how beautiful his dog was, what a coincidence we were both at the park, and my heart would be beating out of my chest in happiness.
But not anymore.
Not after this day with Deke.
“Hi,” I say, hoping he’ll just go away.
Sullivan turns to Deke and extends his hand. “Sullivan Preston III.”
Deke hesitates. I know he reme
mbers the name.
“Sullivan,” he repeats. Then he shakes his hand. “Deke Ryan. I’m Avery’s videographer for the First Class Travel Channel.”
No, you’re more than that, I want to say. You’re not just a videographer to me. Not after this conversation we’ve just had—
“Damn, aren’t you lucky, to get paid to trail a gorgeous lady like Avery all day?” Sullivan says, winking at me as he holds Chandler on his leash. Then he turns back to Deke. “That’s much more interesting than my job on the board of trade.”
The second I hear the superior way Sullivan says “board of trade,” I want to throw up. God, he’s such an arrogant snob. Why was I ever attracted to him?
“Right,” Deke says, his eyes holding steady on Sullivan.
“So, Little Avery, are you coming over tonight?” Sullivan asks. “I’m having an intimate party at my place, with some of my buddies from Notre Dame, and I was hoping you’d be there, gorgeous.”
I’m about to speak but Sullivan has already turned his attention back to Deke.
“You’re more than welcome to come shoot Avery if you want,” Sullivan says in his superior tone. “It really won’t be a bother to us.”
My stomach is in knots as I watch Deke. He has to know I don’t want Sullivan. He has to know that everything is different now.
“Sorry, I can’t. I have a date tonight,” Deke says matter-of-factly.
My heart stops beating.
What?
Deke has a date?
Oh my God, does he have a girlfriend?
I swallow hard. My stomach freezes in agony. Here I was thinking there was some connection developing between us, and obviously there wasn’t.
My face grows hot in embarrassment. I feel like an idiot. Deke had a date planned tonight and never even bothered to tell me, because I’m just some stupid subject to him. Some little fashionista he decided to humor this afternoon simply because I begged him to.
