by Thea Dawson
I had really thought for a moment Jason was going to kiss me, but of course, he wouldn’t do that. He saw me to the door of the apartment, gave me a brief hug, and then drove off, leaving me to trudge upstairs with my packages.
Stephen was already home. “Shopping, I see. Get anything good?”
“Travel stuff. I doubt you’ll approve. How’s your mom?” I asked.
“Crazy as ever, but she fed me well. Help yourself; she sent cookies.”
“Ooh, thanks,” I said, taking a large chocolate chip cookie from the tin he waved at. It really was a good thing I was going back to Thailand soon, I thought.
“Where have you been?”
I could feel my cheeks warming up. “Out with Jason.”
“Oh-ho. Spill it, girlfriend. If you still are my girlfriend?”
“This is delicious.” I waved the cookie at him.
“You’re not getting off that easy.”
“Yeah, see, here’s the problem—I’m not your girlfriend, let alone your fiancé. And I think we’ve reached the point where I need to fess up to Jason. I like him, and I think he likes me back and, dude, you’re kinda cramping my style.”
He shook his head sadly at the sight of my REI shopping bag. “Trust me, I can only be good for your style.”
“Well, you’re not doing my love life much good. I think he wanted to kiss me, but he held back.”
“Good grief, I’m out of the house for ten hours and already I’m way behind. Tell me everything.”
I filled him in on the day.
“Oh,” he said when I was done, “this is so romantic. I just love where this is going.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, that’s the thing. It’s not going anywhere. He thinks I’m engaged to be married. He won’t make a pass at me because he’s not that kind of guy, and if I make a pass at him, he’ll think I am that type of girl.”
“So this is the part where you throw poor old Stephen under the bus and tell him you’re actually single?” He gave me a meaningful look.
I shifted uncomfortably. “Well, maybe.”
“So honesty isn’t the best policy, and our wedding is still on after all?”
“Oh, I don’t know. By the way, apparently people who are really engaged have pictures of each other all over their apartments. He picked up that photo of you and Patrick.”
“Changing the subject again.”
I sighed. “I think I could fall for him all over again.”
“And that would be bad, of course.”
“Well, yeah. I’m leaving the country in a couple of weeks.”
Stephen gave me his most withering stare. “You’re going by jet plane, not steamboat. I mean, I know it’s a long, expensive trip and all, but visiting each other wouldn’t be completely out of the question. And six months isn’t that long.”
I finished the last bite of cookie and thought about having another one. “We’d just be postponing the problem. He’s never going to drop his great job and do anything wild like follow me around the world. And I don’t see myself staying in one place for very long.”
“You could give it a try,” Stephen said. “Maybe one of these days you’ll be ready to settle down.”
“Mmm, I don’t know. If I met the right guy, maybe. But how can I tell if Jason’s the right guy if we can’t even go on a date?”
Stephen smacked himself in the forehead. “Are you being deliberately dense, sugarplum? This vicious circle is entirely in your head. You could go on a date—on several, actually, before Thailand—and if it looks good, see what you can swing for the future.”
“And I still haven’t talked to him about what happened with Amber,” I added.
“Or,” Stephen went on as if I hadn’t said anything, “you’ve got this all wrong and he would be willing to drop everything and travel around the world with you.”
“I doubt it,” I said.
“If things got serious, would you think about staying here instead of going abroad again?”
“I don’t know.”
“So what do you want from this guy?”
“I don’t know!” I almost wailed this time. “Hot sex, true love, commitment, freedom.” I sighed. “Resolution.”
“None of which are mutually exclusive,” Stephen replied. “But if I were you, baby doll, however painful it is, I’d start with resolution.”
*****
Stephen left for work early the next day. I waved at him sleepily from the couch, but we didn’t talk. I spent much of the morning at a coffee shop, working on implementing Jason’s suggestions. When I felt like I’d worn out my welcome there, I went back to Stephen’s apartment and kept working. I missed being abroad. When I traveled, there were always other people around, locals and fellow travelers, who could be counted on to ask and answer questions, praise or complain about the weather, or recommend restaurants and tourist attractions. But here in my own country, surrounded by people whose native language was English, I was lonely.
Stephen had texted me mid-afternoon to say he’d be working late, which wasn’t unusual. Around five-thirty, I decided to run out for some food and make sure there was a good dinner waiting for him when he got home. I made it to the lobby door when I realized I’d left my phone by my laptop. But as I wasn’t going far, I decided not to go back for it.
As I trudged down the icy street to the little gourmet grocery store on the corner, I felt like I was catching a glimpse of life as it would be if I really were engaged: a productive but lonely day in front of my computer, a boyfriend who left early and came home late, grocery shopping and making dinner by myself.
Of course, it wouldn’t have to be like that. I could get an office job myself and at least spend the day with other people. Or maybe, with all of the new ideas that Jason had set in motion, I could focus on working with more clients face to face. I had several clients at the moment, but except for Sarah, they were all other parts of the country.
I could find a way to make it work. Maybe.
Anyway, the whole thing was ridiculous. Jason and I hadn’t even been on a date, and here I was trying to figure out how to make living together work out.
When I got home clutching my expensive bag of fresh pasta and gourmet cheese, I was surprised to see that Stephen was back.
“You’re home already. I was going to surprise you with fettuccine Alfredo,” I said.
“Yeah, something got cancelled at the last minute. If you make dinner, I will happily fake being surprised,” he said. “By the way, Jason called.” He nodded at my phone, which I’d left beside my laptop.
“You peeked at my phone?” I asked, amused at his nosiness.
“I answered your phone. We’re having dinner with him on Wednesday.”
“We’re what?”
“I think it’s high time I met this guy you’re about to leave me for. He sounds nice. Vodka tonic?”
“I think I need one. So, this is the dinner where we tell him that you actually like boys?”
“Well now, let’s not get carried away. I was thinking more that we have a nice dinner and I check him out for you. I think you need an objective assessment from your favorite financier. See if he’s high grade or subprime. Once I get a handle on him, I’ll be able to assess this situation a whole lot better.”
“Why am I scared?”
He grinned wickedly at me. “Because this is the dinner where we find out what this man of yours is really made of.”
Chapter 17
Jason
I was surprised when Stephen answered Monica’s phone, and more surprised when he suggested we all have dinner. I was curious to meet him, but also dismayed at the thought. Part of me preferred to pretend he didn’t really exist. But part of me also wanted to see how I stacked up against him, this wealthy investment banker who’d swept my Monica off her feet.
On Wednesday night at seven sharp, I walked into the Rosebud Steakhouse on Walton Street. I’d never been there before, but Stephen had said it was one of his favo
rite places in the city. Monica had never struck me as a steak-eater; I wondered what she thought of it. The restaurant looked expensive. I thought anxiously about my start-up fund, and hoped it wouldn’t break the bank.
The maître d’ showed me to the table where Monica and Stephen were already seated. They actually looked like they might be arguing, though so quietly that I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Monica broke off her animated gesturing as I walked up. I leaned down to give her a brief kiss on the cheek and shook Stephen’s hand and sized him up as he stood.
He was tall, about my height, and expensively dressed. I would have bet that his suit probably cost as much as I made in a month. Maybe two. It’s hard for me to say what a woman would find attractive in a man, but he was impeccably groomed; I take pretty good care of myself, but I felt like a slob beside him. I wouldn’t have thought he was Monica’s type; she was always stylish and well dressed, but she was more relaxed and casual. Absolutely nothing about Stephen said casual.
Once we’d ordered and started talking, I found myself having a better time than I’d expected. Stephen was a nice guy, very charming and sociable, and I began to see what she liked about him. They had some great stories about the time they’d spent in Hong Kong.
And the food was delicious.
We were halfway through our entrees when a slender, well-dressed man walked up to our table and put his hand on Stephen’s shoulder. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember meeting him before.
“Stephen! How are you?” he asked. Both Monica and Stephen looked up at him in shock.
“Patrick!” said Stephen. “Patrick, you remember Monica. And this is her friend Jason.”
Patrick shook my hand briefly. “Nice to meet you, Jason. Nice to see you again, Monica. Still traveling?”
I waited for her or Stephen to mention the engagement, since Patrick apparently didn’t know about it, but the two of them just stared stupidly at him for a moment before Monica managed, “I’m probably going to, um …”
Patrick cut her off before she could finish. “Stephen, sweetheart, do you think I could talk to you alone for just a moment?”
Stephen stood up quickly. “Okay. Excuse me, folks. I’ll be right back.”
The two of them headed toward the bar and began talking animatedly to each other.
“What’s that all about?” I asked.
“Umm …” Monica was deep in thought. “Business associate. Awkward history between them. Very awkward.”
It was strange that Patrick had called Stephen “sweetheart,” but some gay guys were like that, I supposed. And there wasn’t much doubt in my mind that Patrick was gay. I know it’s a stereotype, but when a guy’s that effeminate, you sort of assume. Like Stephen, he was expensively dressed, but his shirt was bright orange and his tie had large carp swimming down it. I wondered what business they’d been in together. Patrick certainly didn’t look like a financial consultant.
“Well, that gives us a chance to catch up,” I said. “Have you had a chance to try out any of those suggestions I made?”
“Oh yes!” Her face brightened visibly. “I wanted to tell you—I got a new client already! And I’ve had more visits to my website and a lot more comments on my last blog post than usual. It’s been great!”
“That’s awesome! Maybe I can use you as a case study when I get out on my own.”
“You mean when you start your own company?” she asked, and I mentally slapped myself on the forehead.
“Err, yeah, eventually. And by that time you’ll be, like, a huge sensation, and I’ll be able to say, ‘Adventuress Travel was my client, and look at ’em now!’”
She laughed and that little dimple appeared on her cheek. Her eyes sparkled like the ring on her finger. She looked genuinely happy, and I felt a pang knowing that it was someone else who made her feel that way.
“You look beautiful tonight by the way.” The words slipped out before I’d thought them through all the way. She did, though. She’d styled her hair so that it fell long and straight, and curled under at the ends. She looked pretty with or without makeup, but tonight she’d gone the extra mile: her eyes were ringed in subtle, smoky shadow and her lips were pink and glossy. A low-cut blouse showed off the creamy skin of her collarbone.
At my words, she smiled and turned pink.
I smiled back. “I love that you’re almost twenty-nine years old and I can still make you blush,” I said in a low voice.
Her blush deepened. I knew I was bordering on being inappropriate, but I couldn’t help myself. She was forbidden fruit, and the fact that her fiancé was standing only a few feet away seemed to heighten the sudden feeling of electricity in the air.
She looked deeply into my eyes and took a deep breath. “Jason,” she said, “I need to talk to you about something.”
I was sure she was going to tell me I was going too far, maybe even that we shouldn’t see each other again, so I was almost relieved to see Stephen making his way over to us again. “Look, here comes your fiancé.”
A look of annoyance crossed her face. Was she annoyed at me or at Stephen? I didn’t have much time to think about it, though. Stephen sat down next to us, clearly flustered.
“Are you okay?” asked Monica carefully.
Stephen sort of shook his head and huffed, clearly put out.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Monica asked in the gentle sort of tone that I’d heard her use with upset girlfriends in college.
Stephen took a deep breath, visibly pulling himself together. “Sorry about that, you two. That was, um, and old friend of my brother’s.”
I glanced at Monica. She’d definitely said business associate, hadn’t she?
“That you used to work with, right?” Monica said.
Stephen looked at her then glanced my way. “Yes,” he said quickly. “Of course. Yes, we used to work together. And he was a friend of my brother’s.” He paused. “That’s how we ended up working together.”
I nodded as if I understood what was going on, but I knew I was missing something. “Well,” I groped for a way to change the subject, “who’s for another bottle of wine?”
“That would be great!” said Monica, clearly relieved to have something else to talk about.
“You know what, I think I’m going to head home,” said Stephen. He made that scribbling gesture at the waiter that means “Check, please.”
I was disappointed to think the evening was going to end soon. Stephen seemed like a nice enough guy, but of course, I really wanted to spend more time with Monica, and I knew I was running out of excuses to get together with her. I tried to be gracious.
“Hey, no worries. I need to get to work early myself.” I hastily ate a few more bites of dinner. I hated to not make the most of what was probably going to be a pretty expensive night.
“Stephen, wait, Jason and I aren’t even finished eating.” Monica was annoyed.
Now Stephen looked annoyed at her. I felt increasingly uncomfortable. On the one hand, I didn’t really want to find myself in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel. On the other hand, a tiny part of me that I’m not particularly proud of didn’t mind seeing that it wasn’t all sunshine and roses between them. And of course, if he left, I’d be alone with Monica.
“I’m afraid my little encounter with Patrick has sort of taken the wind out of my sails,” said Stephen, looking significantly at Monica.
“I know you’re just going to go home and sulk. Stay out with us and don’t let him get to you,” Monica answered.
“Look, you can stay out if you want to, but I’m going home. And I’m not going to sulk, as you put it. I’m tired and I’m going to get some sleep. I have to get up early.”
The waiter brought the check and placed it delicately in center of the table. “Fine. I’ll get dinner.” I could have sworn Monica rolled her eyes at him.
“No, no. Dinner’s on me. For you, too, Jason.” Stephen grabbed the bill and took a slim leather wallet out of his
breast pocket. He threw an Amex card onto the tray and pushed it to the end of the table.
“Thanks, man,” I said awkwardly. “Great dinner. And it was great to finally meet you. I know you’ll take great care of Monica—”
“It was great to meet you, too,” he cut me off. He shook my hand briefly, but he barely met my eyes and didn’t smile. The charming, funny guy of a few minutes ago had been replaced by a sour, unhappy man who was bordering on rude. I knew Monica had been all over the world by herself, so it wasn’t a stretch to think she could make it across Chicago at nine on a Wednesday night. But I still thought it was pretty thoughtless of him to just leave her.
After a few awkward minutes, the waiter brought back the card and Stephen scrawled his signature on the slip. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to Monica. He nodded curtly at me once again and positively stormed out.
I sat in stunned silence for a moment. He hadn’t even kissed her goodnight, and this “see you tomorrow” stuff? It was like he was talking to someone he worked with, not someone he was going to marry.
“Uh, is everything okay with you guys?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” Monica looked exasperated, but she didn’t look as upset as I would have thought. “He can be such a drama queen sometimes. This thing with Patrick, it’s a real bug up his nose. I mean, love the guy, he’s super sweet most of the time, but if I went home with him now, we’d just be up until three talking about Patrick this and Patrick that.”
I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“I’ve always loved how you use phrases like ‘a bug up his nose.’ You use great words,” I said. As soon as I said it, I thought it sounded like a stupid compliment. I mean, here she was, gorgeous and smart and ambitious, and the best I could come up with was “you use great words.” But it was something I’d always liked about her. “Like frogstrangler,” I added. It just slipped out before I’d thought it through all the way. I wondered if she’d be offended or embarrassed, or just think I was weird.
But she smiled, a slow, sexy smile that put all thoughts of Stephen out of my mind. “I remember frogstrangler,” she said in a low voice.
