Oh, two eggs never looked better than when they were slow dancing with potatoes, croquettes, toasted brioche, and bacon high on puffs of applewood. Thinking about Lena fasting to look like a stick in her wedding gown, I knew I could never be one of those people bent on giving up carbs. Might as well confine a person to a dark dungeon with only a sliver of light from beneath the door and tell them to enjoy the sun.
Strangely enough, I felt more comfortable with his friends after everything had been laid out on the table—even if it was more like a production. The whole time, I’d been yipping and yapping, and I’d barely taken two bites. As soon as the waiter returned with the check, Andrew put cash in the leather receipt holder and stood with a loud bearish yawn. The group had plans to see Mystere at T.I. and needed to get dressed, so we bid each other adieu with lots of hugs and the promise of catching up before they headed back home. Before I rose from my chair, Myles urged me not to rush and excused himself to the restroom.
I turned back to my plate and within minutes, I felt like a total lard. My eyes were bigger than my stomach and the thought of taking even one more bite, made my stomach bubble. Across the room, our busser had just delivered a fresh basket of assorted bread loaves. The moment his line of sight turned in my direction, I waved him over for a couple of boxes.
“You’re all set, ma’am,” he offered, expertly slipping the cardboard origami box into a small plastic bag with the trademark burgundy and gold block-lettered logo centered on the front.
As I wound my way back through the restaurant toward the entrance, Myles walked toward me, mischievously eyeballing me. As he closed the distance between us, he pulled his hands from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of luscious pale pink peonies tussled together in hot-pink tissue paper.
“Hello, my name is Myles. I don’t have any pick-up lines or games to play. I was just hoping that you’d allow me take you out to a nice dinner, possibly dancing or a movie, if you take a liking to my company. What do you say?”
I half-way expected him to put his hand out for a hardy shake, but he lightly pecked my cheek and took a step backward, still holding the flowers.
“By the way, these are for you.” He offered, nervous as a schoolboy.
If we’d really just met, I’d be second-guessing his intentions and wondering about how many items on my man checklist could be crossed off. But, the irony of starting over with him, it came with a newfound courage to put an end to my old ingrained ways. It was a real-life do-over.
twenty-one
It still wasn’t exactly clear to me, how we went from awkward choppy run-ins to what we became after the new year. In sort of a blur, we were inseparable. When I wasn’t with him, we were on the phone for hours talking about nothing that I could actually pinpoint. He’d delicately perched himself upon my mind. Just sitting there, rerouting his way into my heart. Apparently, I was beaming from the insight out. Glowing, Lena had used that word. The way people weave in tidbits about themselves into random chitchat, I’d discovered that I had a remarkably uncanny ability to relate any conversation or thought back to him.
At work, the girls playfully teased me about this newfound talent and constantly accused me of being smitten with Mr. Love, they’d singsong with each mention of his name. There was no sense in denying it, since the blood rushing to my face was a dead giveaway. They reserved especially mushy kissy-faces for date nights, when they would pour it on thicker than usual.
On the night of our fifth date, since the “do-over,” as he so eloquently put it, I came in with earbuds and sunglasses and pretended not to see their goo-goo eyes and faint snickering. So far, it had been much more than I’d hoped for. I thought if we started again, it would be the typical dinner and movies. It started out that way. But I knew he would put his own twist on it.
Instead of going to the theater to see a movie, we opted for the drive-in, which turned out to be so much fun. We didn’t have to whisper or be considerate of other patrons, so we laughed loudly, ate an obscene amount of candy and popcorn, and played twenty questions. We talked about the characters’ B-movie acting skills, and the flawed special effects. When the crispness of the night air got to be too much, we rolled up all the windows and moved to the backseat, where he stretched across the seats and let me sit in the opening between his legs. As much as I wanted him, I didn’t want to ruin the moment of us just enjoying each other’s company.
I hadn’t expected horseback riding through the Red Rock trails with an intimate picnic in the park. Beyond his smoky eyes, there was the ever-present yearning and a slight knowing smile, but gradually, he let me see a glimpse of a few new facets. Riding through the desert, we talked freely, leaning in close to each other, open to all the possibilities. Bystanders would easily assume we’d known each other for years, rather than the few months that we’d stumbled along to get here.
The museum-hopping trip surprised me the most. Not only was I introduced to the hidden culture of Las Vegas, but I uncovered a few more of his many layers. From his perspective, the art jumped off the canvas and spoke to him. As we walked by each piece, I felt myself behind closed lids, looking at the art through his words. The way he talked about it, I was transported into the montage of emotions and sleepless nights that inspired the work. As he spoke, a small crease in his brow furrowed and his eyes read the pain and the joy of the artists. His hands gestured toward each work as he attempted to demystify the feeling behind the strokes and angles. Nothing was abstract or literal, but subject to interpretation, he’d explained. And I found myself, woven into the textured fabric of his life, wondering which threads led to his heart.
Beneath the invoices on my desk, I tugged at the glossy cover of a bridal magazine with a fluorescent pink Post-it peeking out—Winston Wedding 4:00 pm. My last appointment of the day was in ten minutes. A sweet couple from L.A. was having their ceremony and reception at a family friend’s estate. When I first saw the groom, Ryan, I had him all sized up. Classic Ken doll perfection: suited and frilled with gadgets hanging from his ear, waist-clip, and back pocket. He seemed like the typical guy who would be too unavoidably detained to be into details, for the most part. Though, as I patronized his fiancée, Linda, a meek mousy brown-haired transplant from the Midwest, with my regular, “How’d you meet” question, to break the ice, it was his answer that shocked me the most. She hemmed and hawed about a good heart and compatibility, but Ryan surprised me. He was, “Put on the earth to love her,” he muttered endearingly. In the back of my mind, I threw around questions and theories with no proper hypothesis. This tenderhearted romantic somehow resisted the cliché. With him, chivalry never died. Constantly, he held doors, pulled out chairs, and helped her on with her coat. And I couldn’t help but wonder, how some men could perceive love and marriage as the end of life as they know it, while a rare few get to be privy to a different outlook—the gift and blessing that only a lucky handful get to experience. And what’s more, I contemplated indecisively into which category would Myles fall.
By the time the appointment ended, they had opted for a modern, elegant theme, with a flair for old Hollywood. Black and white, sleek with assorted apothecary jars and vases. Their circular script W monogram along with a satin damask ribbon would faintly fill the background of all the labels and custom napkins. After a couple compromises, they opted for red candy to match her rose and hydrangea bouquet. They were pleased with my recommendation that included Cherry Sours, Twizzlers, Red Hots, and Cinnamon Bears, among their favorites. Laid out on the ivory satin tablecloth with hydrangea centerpieces dispersed between the vases and jars, it fit their “simple but elegant” theme.
Outside the window, I watched longingly as Ryan held the door of their sleek sedan for Linda. She slid into the passenger seat. Just before he closed the door, he lightly brushed his lips against hers and made his way around to the driver’s seat. I shook my head, as if to shake myself from the daze, and turned to find the girls each with a customer. Quickly, I made a mad dash for my office befor
e they could read the thoughts all over my face. I needed to hear Myles’ voice.
Before the line rang a second time, he picked up. “Hello, sweetheart,” he uttered, sending butterflies soaring through my stomach. He exhaled, and it made me feel as if his need to talk to me was just as urgent. “How’d everything go?”
“The Brown wedding is booked, the Singers need a day to review the contract—I think they’re comparison shopping, and the Winstons are in.”
“Two out of three isn’t bad, but I’m sure the Singers’ll come around soon, once they review all the details. Plus, what other company has a representative like you, babe?” he said it so comfortably without a second thought, while I listened to him, analyzing each inflection in his tone, hoping for some new insight.
“No, not bad at all. Plus, I’m booking up pretty fast here, so they’ll need to make up their minds sooner than later, if I’m going to be an option for them at all.”
“Other than that, how’s your day going?”
“I wish it was time to close now. I can’t wait to see you. I miss you.” It slipped. Immediately, I wanted to take it back. I’d been so careful not to be too eager. I hated the desperation in my words.
“I miss you, too,” Myles replied matter-of-factly, and with it, all the tension in my neck and shoulders released. He missed me. I wasn’t alone in this crazy thing we had going. “Can you get out a little early?”
“Uh…” I hesitated. “I was scheduled to stay for another hour, but it is Friday. And I am the owner.” I mentally recounted all the things that still needed to be done before we closed. What’s the point of having a fully empowered staff, if not to knock off early every once in a while? Plus, there were no pressing deadlines until Tuesday. “Sure. What’d you have in mind?”
“You’ll see,” he murmured sneakily. “Can’t wait to see you.”
Not until the dial tone sounded, did I actually hang up. I was still sitting there, my mind doing acrobatics trying to figure out what he was up to. From an abrupt ending to a proposal, my overactive imagination spanned the gambit, but nothing made sense. Hastily, I packed up the courier bag for the bank deposit and threw it on the back counter. Why would he say he missed me, if it was over? All the orders for Monday were already completed and tagged for pick up. Marriage seemed a little farfetched, even to me. After a quick check in with the girls and a cursory pull on the drawers, my wandering mind and I exited the building.
Absentmindedly, I dug into my purse, listening for the jingle of my keys. I pushed the unlock button. Nothing. No honking horn or flashing lights. The lot could hold twenty or thirty cars, but there was only a dozen or so left. The morning had been a little hectic, but I wasn’t going crazy. My car was gone.
Panic set in all at once. I stood there, lost, tapping my foot with fumes billowing from my ears. A sheen of perspiration formed above my brow, not only because it was still in the high nineties, my blood was boiling. My mind could not wrap itself around the idea that someone had the audacity to steal the car. Between short breaths, I replayed the events of the morning in my mind. It was a day like any other. I woke at nearly seven, showered, dressed, and stopped for a cup of coffee down the street at the French bakery. When I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked at the end of the aisle facing the shop to leave room for customers. I wasn’t losing it. My car had been stolen.
Shit! Now, I would have to call the police and the insurance company, and labor through phone call after phone call, just to be made whole again. My clammy fingers stiffened around the slim smartphone. It was time to suck it up, and get the process under way. One by one, I dialed 9 1…honk!...1. Startled by ear-shattering noise, I nearly dropped it. No sooner was I about to give someone a piece of my mind, did I look and see Myles’ car. If I wasn’t so happy to see him, I might’ve killed him.
“Oh thank God you’re here. I’m so glad you’re here. Someone stole my car.” The words rushed together frantically.
“Oh.” He remarked, apathetically, as if I’d asked for a cup of sugar.
“Wait. What are you doing here? How did you know something was wrong?” The sides of his guilty, sexy mouth curled up. “Did you know something was wrong?” I mirrored his smile involuntarily. Myles definitely had something to do with it. There I was freaking out, and he was cracking up on the inside at my expense. “Myles, what have you done with my car? You are up to no good and I know it.”
“Get in and I’ll see what I can do to help out.” He winked mischievously and though I wanted to yell at him for nearly giving me a heart attack, resisting that face of his, hadn’t worked out for me so far.
Myles shifted his body in my direction without affecting his knowing grin. Slowly, his eyes squinted, smoldering with heat. From inside the car, now I could see that he had solicitous intentions. “You are stunning.” The words sizzled off his silver tongue. “Have I ever told you that? You really do take my breath away.”
Under the weight of his words and eyes, my skin pulsed. I knew I was blushing. Throbbing with a hunger for him that, until now, had just been a niggling ache in my heart. It found its way down to a place much deeper. It wasn’t a question whether I was in good hands. That was the trouble.
Instinctively, my hand reached for my face. Self-conscious and slightly embarrassed. I’d been at work all day. Any traces of makeup from the morning were surely faded. My hair was in a ponytail, and the wrinkled black skirt suit was meant more for professional effect than appeal. With the suit, I’d just as soon be auditing him than seducing him. Not even a glimpse of cleavage peeked from the red camisole beneath, and the skirt barely made it above the knees.
“Don’t. I think this is when you’re flawless,” He uttered at a near whisper, pulling my hand from my cheek, sending shivers down my spine. “Want to get changed?”
“I was going to stop home and change before I came over,” I said, with an accusatory tinge edge to my tone.
“No need. I’ve got everything you need here.” Myles motioned to a duffel bag in the back seat I hadn’t noticed before. Only in looking closer at the bag, it dawned on me. It was my bag. Not purchased for me, but the quilted lavender floral weekender tote already belonged to me. It was an online steal from two Cyber Mondays ago.
“What are you doing with my bag? How did you—when did you?” We’d been going strong, but not quite to the point of exchanging keys or giving each other a drawer, yet. “What’s going on, Myles?”
“I’m trying to surprise you, if you’ll let me.” His eyes still steamy with lust. That small grin crept back into the corners of his mouth.
That was all it took. I was putty in his able hands. “Can you at least tell me how you got into my place to get my things?”
He cut me a side-glance and stared for a few seconds before returning his eyes to the road. He was contemplating whether to tell me, I knew him well enough. After a moment, he must not have found any way for me to compromise his surprise. “Lena is my accomplice.”
I made a mental note to yell at Lena and confiscate my key. Strangely, the thought of him seeing my messy house bothered me more than the possibility that he might have been digging in my underwear drawer. Lena would get it later, but it was comforting to know she was there with him.
Instead of arguing with him, I decided to kick my heels up and ride the wave. The sun had already come and gone, leaving strokes of orange and purple painted in the sky. Silver speckled stars hung in the distance as we cruised through the desert into the mountains. My intentions were to stay up and keep him company, but the farther we drove, the lower my seat reclined. The day had wreaked havoc on my tightened muscles and achy bones. Laboriously, I shimmied out of the stiff tailored black blazer and slid out of my pumps. My toes tirelessly squirmed in the carpet and my head fell back. As soon as the night breeze kissed my cheeks, that was the end of the ill-fated attempt to keep my eyes open. “You don’t mind if I relax for few, until we get to wherever we’re going, do you?” I asked under closed lids.<
br />
“Nope. Relax for a little while and leave the rest to me.”
By the time I awoke, the sun beamed again. Groggy and cramped, I managed to contort my limbs every which way for a vigorous stretch. Outside, the view had changed. Gone were the palm trees and neon lights of the arid desert. In their place, red-breasted sapsucker, American oaks, pine siskin, and evergreens. Cracking the window, a brisk mixture of moisture, and the spicy aroma of the evergreens in the distance, hit my senses. Even from the winding road we were on, the sight of their grayish brown bark and lustrous leaves made me want to inhale the freshness.
Quickly, I twisted in my seat to look through the rearview mirror. Amid the embrace of cotton-like clouds, the Golden Gate Bridge peeked through at me with a smile from afar. I knew this place. We were passing through Marin. California? “Myles, how long have I been sleep?”
“Um. About nine and a half hours.”
“I’m sorry. You must be so tired. Want me to take over?”
“But you don’t know where we’re going,” he teased. “It’s okay. I stopped for a while to catch a few winks. I’m all right now.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked so peaceful. I couldn’t.” As he lifted his hand to follow the curves of my face, I leaned into it. It was nice being so sweet with each other.
“Any way you’d consider giving me a hint?” I pleaded, batting my eyes.
“Uh. Let’s see. You have to take the 101 highway to get there,” he stated just as we passed the sign.
“Aw. You’re no fun, Myles.” Turning back toward the window, I let the wind wash over me. Myles slid his hand in mine. And with a gentle squeeze, I held on to all the promise that hung in such a small gesture.
“We’re here.” I heard him say as my eyes fluttered open for the second time as we turned on Silverado Trail. Along the Napa River, nestled amid sweeping verdurous terrain, was an idyllic countryside estate. The vision leapt off the page. It was the inn from the travel magazine that Myles and I looked at together. While he humbly shared his featured photo, the adjacent page displayed this picturesque getaway. We scanned the magazine from cover-to-cover, found our way back to the page, and dog-eared it. In between tangents in the conversation, we agreed that Milliken Creek Inn was a place we’d like to visit one day. I just didn’t know he meant that we’d go together—on a surprising whim, at that!
It's Got A Ring To It Page 21
