We went on eating and chatting, and I went on thinking of what else I knew about him and his family. I knew Melissa had dated Owen’s half-brother Nicholas in the past then they’d fallen for each other again on the cruise and Owen figured he had to go to their wedding in October though he didn’t want to. I knew his other half-brother Austin, who’d actually also dated Melissa, was an incurable flirt who wouldn’t get married in a million years. I knew Owen preferred red wine to white, seafood to steak, and reading business books to watching television.
What I didn’t know was how he’d respond to my proposal.
Or how, in fact, to propose it.
His opinion about the speed of his mother’s new marriage didn’t bode well for my chances of convincing him to marry me, but the more time I spent with him the more I knew I wanted to do just that. We weren’t in love, of course, but arranged marriages started out without love and grew into it. Couldn’t ours possibly do the same?
No, it couldn’t, because that wasn’t what I wanted and needed from it. But it could grow into something that would serve us both, and that would be good enough.
I thought out and discarded a hundred ways to suggest it as we finished our meals, but in the end a nearby couple gave me the opening I needed.
The man dropped to one knee, fishing a ring from his pocket as he did, and the woman shrieked and accepted his proposal as the restaurant workers and diners clapped and cheered.
Owen did clap with me, a little unenergetically but he did, which gave me hope, and when the noise died down enough that he’d be able to hear me I took a deep breath and said to him, “We should do that.”
“We should--” He cut off his absent-minded echo of my comment and turned sharply to me. “Wait, what are you suggesting?”
I shot a glance at the still-ecstatic couple then focused my gaze on Owen’s face. “We should get married.”
Nothing moved but his eyes. He blinked, slowly, three times, and as I waited I was amazed that even this produced no emotion in him. He had to be shocked and confused but I couldn’t feel any of it.
He finally said, “Why?”
“We get along well,” I said, feeling like an idiot trying to explain the unexplainable. “And you need to be married for your career. It just makes sense.”
His eyes searched my face. “Okay, but what’s in it for you?”
I couldn’t tell him the real truth, but I could tell him a truth. “I’ve dated enough guys to know when I meet a good one. And you are one. I want to be married and I think you’d be a good husband.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Melissa didn’t think so.”
I shrugged, not wanting to talk about her. “You’re smart, you’re funny, you’ve got a good career which would be even better if you were married... why not?”
He shook his head slowly. “You’re serious. You really are. You’d marry me.”
I nodded.
“And how long have you been thinking this?”
No answer would make me sound less impulsive so I told him the truth. “Since Tuesday. Since we saw Lawrence.”
He leaned back in his chair.
I leaned forward in mine. “Come on, you know it makes sense. We both want to be married, we get along well, so why not?”
“There’s more to marriage than getting along.”
My parents hadn’t even managed that. “Like what?”
His eyes said, “Sex”, but his mouth said, “I don’t know.”
Answering both responses, I said, “We can figure it all out as we go along. So? What do you think?”
He shook his head again, but I could tell he wasn’t saying no. “We haven’t even-- we don’t even know each other’s friends, or families, and you barely know our coworkers.”
I could imagine where he’d been going before he changed direction. We hadn’t even kissed, never mind had sex, so we might well have no chemistry. I didn’t care, though. The connection we did have, his emotionlessness and my desperate need of it, was chemistry enough for me. “So we’ll meet each other’s people. And I’ll keep getting to know our coworkers. I wasn’t suggesting we do it tomorrow or anything.”
He burst out laughing. “Yeah,” he managed, “because that would be crazy.”
I had to laugh too, because the whole situation was more insane than my ability to feel people’s emotions.
After we finished laughing he said, “I’ll think about it. Is that okay for now?”
I nodded. It was more than enough for now. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he said, studying me like he was still trying to decide if I meant it, “for thinking I’d be a good husband. You’re alone in that opinion.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that.”
He shrugged like it didn’t matter, and we had our dessert and coffee while chatting about anything and everything but the possibility of a marriage between two people who hadn’t even known each other this time last week.
When he’d paid the bill after refusing my offer to chip in by smiling and reminding me he’d been the one to suggest dinner, we walked outside to my car. “Well,” I said, wrapping my jacket tighter around myself against the cool windy evening and feeling stranger than I had when I proposed. “Good night.”
He studied me again, then said, “Good night,” and turned to leave.
I watched him go, but after only a few steps he turned back. He came up to me, gently raised my chin, and kissed me.
Surprised and happy, I slipped my arms around his waist and returned the kiss. He tasted pleasantly of coffee and his mouth felt good on mine.
He must have thought so too because he took hold of my shoulders and pulled me closer at the same moment as I moved into him, and what I’d thought was going to be a quick good-night peck turned into something with real heat in it.
When it ended we stood staring at each other for a moment, both breathing harder, then he gave me the short kiss I’d been expecting, smiled at me, and said, “I’ll be thinking about... everything. Good night, Celia.”
“I’ll let you think, and good night to you too.”
As he walked away I realized kissing me was the first test to help him decide whether he’d say yes. There hadn’t been a blazing fire between us, but there had definitely been sparks. Was that enough for him?
Chapter Five
I didn’t hear from Owen all weekend. I spent Saturday working so I’d be able to impress him with my understanding of our work world, and Sunday reading the bridal magazine I bought at the nearby convenience store in a fit of weakness on the way home Friday night. The magazine was a mistake, as the huge pouffy dresses and ridiculously overdone receptions and wildly expensive honeymoons were overwhelming since Owen hadn’t been in contact with me, and by the time I came back from my solitary lunch on Monday I was pretty much resigned to not getting to marry him.
Then he walked into my cubicle. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Nothing,” I said, knowing some people would play games and also knowing he wasn’t the type who’d like that. “Why?”
“I’m seeing friends for dinner and I thought maybe you’d like to join us.”
I nodded, trying to hide my excitement because he wasn’t showing any. “That would be nice, thank you. How many and when and where?”
His mouth flickered into a smile. “Straight to the important details, no fluff. I’m sensing a trend here, Celia.”
I liked the way he said my name. Some people made it into ‘Seelya’, two syllables, but he gave each syllable its turn and it sounded good to me. When I imagined what it would be like to be his wife, getting to listen to him talk was a definite positive. His voice was cool and steady, like Owen himself. It made me feel safe. “Well, you might be right. And? What are the answers?”
“Two. Leonard and Tam. Tomorrow at seven at Steel.”
I’d never been there but I’d always wanted to go. Being Owen’s girlfriend might raise my quality of--
I cut myself off, hard. ‘Girlfriend’ implied an emotional level we wouldn’t have, a level I didn’t even want us to have. If I fell for him I might spark matching emotions in him, and then I’d lose the reason I wanted to marry him in the first place. Business transaction. Important details only. Cool and steady. No fluff. “Will I meet you there or will you pick me up?”
“I’ll need to come straight from work, so probably better there. The reservation’s in my name so feel free to get seated and get a drink if I’m late. Leonard and Tam are nice, so I’m sure you’ll be able to chat with them until I arrive.”
He wanted me to walk in, on my own, and meet his friends?
I looked into his eyes and knew that was exactly what he wanted. If our kiss had been the first test, this was the second: could I handle myself without needing to be babied? Would I be the kind of professional non-emotional wife he needed?
I raised my chin and gave him a smile. “I’m sure I will too. And I’ll see you there.”
He smiled back, giving me a nod. “Yes, you will.”
*****
I did, eventually.
I walked into the restaurant exactly at seven, after sitting on a nearby bench sketching the things around me for ten minutes so I wouldn’t arrive too early. The hostess took me to Owen’s table, which was empty, and I sat studying the wine list and trying not to feel like I didn’t belong in such a classy place until I heard a soft voice say, “Um, hi?”
I looked up to see a petite woman of about my age with long straight brown hair and warm brown eyes, holding hands with a blond man at least a head taller than her. “Hi.” I could feel both of their confusion about how to act, and it fed my own confusion, but I got to my feet and held out my hand. “I’m Celia. I assume--” A horrible thought struck me. How far would Owen go to test me? “Owen did tell you I was coming along, right?”
The man nodded and the woman said, “He did. I’m Tam, and this is my husband Leonard.”
We all shook hands, while I did my best not to show that I could sense how flustered they were. Had Owen told them I wanted to marry him? Maybe, since they were so bothered, but what was I supposed to do about it?
Once we were settled in our chairs, I said, trying to sound calm and in charge as I knew Owen wanted me to be, “I was looking at the red wine. Would you care to join me in a bottle?”
“Would we fit?” Tam and Leonard said in unison, and as we chuckled I felt them relax in unison too. Maybe they’d been afraid I was crazy. I was afraid of that too, but at least my kind of crazy didn’t show in public.
I relaxed too, a tiny bit, as their emotions stopped attacking me, and we chatted idly about the menu until our waitress came to us and I ordered the wine I’d chosen.
Owen and the wine arrived at our table at the same time. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking the seat next to me and casting a smile around at the three of us. “I did try to get out on time, but I got a new account today and the paperwork took forever.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “How are you doing, Celia?”
I hadn’t seen him all day, so my emotional level was higher than I liked, but his kiss and his presence calmed me at once. “Great, thank you. I went ahead and ordered wine. Would you like some?”
He glanced at the label, then back at me, eyebrows raised. “You picked this?”
I nodded, hoping I’d done a good job. I’d researched wines before showing up. “I know Steel does a great grilled salmon and I thought you might like a pinot noir with it.”
“You thought right,” he said, a little smile playing across his mouth, and delight filled me. Another test passed?
How many would there be?
It didn’t matter. I would pass them all.
The four of us, the two married ones and the two who might soon be married, did have a few awkward silences but mostly we were able to keep the conversation moving. At the end of the meal I still didn’t know whether Tam and Leonard knew about our possible future together, but I felt that they might not disapprove.
Outside the restaurant, the others said their goodbyes because they needed to go home and feed their cat. Once they’d departed, I took a deep breath and said, “Do they know what I suggested on Friday?”
Owen slowly shook his head. “I thought it’d be better if they got to know you without that element. What did you think of them?”
“I liked them,” I said, which is what I would have said even if I hadn’t. “Leonard’s funny and Tam seems like a sweetheart.”
He nodded. “I agree with both of those assessments. And I think they liked you too.”
“I hope so.”
“Me too,” Owen said.
As I realized this meant our dinner had definitely been a test, he added, “And I’m sure they did, actually. So. I’m leaving tomorrow for a few days of meetings in Ottawa with my new account, but what are you doing next week?”
“Not much,” I said, then remembered. “Actually, I’m meeting two friends for dinner. We go out once a month, first Thursday of the month.” I scrambled for the right way to ask, then just went with the first thing that came to mind. “I’d like to have you meet them. See what they think of you.”
“Like I had Leonard and Tam see what they think of you?”
I looked up into his eyes, saw the smile growing there, and smiled back. “Exactly. Just the same.”
“Well, that only seems fair,” he said. “Thursday it is. And perhaps we can do coffee next week as well?”
“Perhaps,” I said, not wanting to sound desperate or clingy, and was rewarded with a full smile.
Chapter Six
Dawn kicked me under the table. When I looked at her, she shot me a lightning-fast wink, and I knew she was about to test Owen.
I didn’t mind. He’d been doing a great job as the only guy at our table, talking computers with Erin and wine with Dawn with equal ease, and I could tell that my friends liked him, but they hadn’t really challenged him yet. If anyone would, it would be Dawn.
“So, Owen,” she said, smiling at him, “I need a man’s opinion. On another man.”
“Dump him,” Owen said without hesitation, smiling too. “He’s not worth it.”
The rest of us laughed and Dawn said, “But you don’t even know what the issue is. So that doesn’t count as your opinion.”
Owen shrugged. “Okay, tell me the issue and then I’ll tell you to dump him. Give you my fresh perspective.”
He winked at me and I couldn’t help giggling. He and I had had coffee and lunch together every day since he’d come back from his trip, and he’d had me included in a planning meeting at work “to get your fresh perspective” and I felt sure I’d impressed him with how well I’d known the business. I knew I’d impressed our coworkers, because I’d felt their surprise and jealousy and their worry that I might surpass them. I didn’t care whether I got promoted, though. Owen was my sole target.
“That’s more like it.” Dawn took a deep breath. “Okay, so here it is. I met Graham at the coffee shop when he accidentally took my drink. He promised then that he’d buy me one next time we went out. But we’ve gone out lots of times since then and--”
“Wait,” Erin said. “What happened to the gym guy?”
Dawn blinked, then rolled her eyes. “Matt? He’s long gone.”
“A guy from the gym named Matt,” Owen said, with no expression in his voice.
We all stared at him for a moment, then the four of us burst out laughing.
“Yeah, exactly,” Dawn said. “Gym Matt. It was a disaster from the start and I should have known better.”
Owen and I sobered at once and I didn’t need to sense his emotions to know we were thinking the same thing: was what we were considering a disaster?
Like him, I hadn’t told my friends about my proposal. I’d said only that I’d met a man and wanted their opinion. Though our monthly dinner was nearly always girls-only, we had all brought guys in the past for inspection. Most had failed. I was taken aback at how ba
dly I wanted Owen to pass.
“So anyhow, Graham. He said he’d buy me a drink. But we’ve had like ten coffee dates since, and I paid for myself every time. He never seems to notice that I’m paying and that he promised otherwise.” She leaned toward Owen. “Has he really forgotten? Or is he hoping I’ve forgotten? And if he hasn’t forgotten why isn’t he paying up?”
And, most importantly, why did she care? What a stupid thing to worry about.
“Well,” Owen said slowly, “he was probably kind of nervous when he met you, so I think there’s a good chance he did forget. But you could remind him and see what he says.”
Dawn stared at him. “What, actually bring it up to see if he remembers? Wouldn’t that be totally awkward?”
“Isn’t it awkward waiting to see if he pulls out his wallet or if you have to pay?” Owen countered. “Why not take the bull by the horns? If he’s forgotten, he’ll pay. If he hasn’t, he’ll probably pay anyhow so you don’t think he’s a jerk. Free drink either way.”
Erin nodded. Dawn sighed. “But...” She sighed again. “I guess that makes sense.”
“You want him to remember on his own,” Owen said. “Right? To prove he cares?”
I looked at him, startled by the sudden bite in his voice and by the little flash of some cold fierce emotion I felt from him. I couldn’t have that. “She doesn’t mean that,” I said, my words falling over themselves. “Right, Dawn?”
“Right,” she said, surprising me for a second until she went on with, “It’s not about proving he cares. I just think it’d be more romantic. It’s our meet-cute story.”
Owen, clearly not a romance novel reader like Dawn, looked lost.
“Dawn,” Erin said to Owen, “is an incurable romantic. A terminal case if ever there was one. Just meeting someone in a boring way, like on the bus or at work or...” She faltered as she clearly remembered how Owen and I had met. “Well, yeah. Anything normal isn’t good enough. Dawn’s all about the story to tell the grandkids.”
Would ‘grandpa had no emotions and grandma liked him that way’ be a good story? Hardly a fairy tale come true.
Safe Harbor? Page 3
