I looked back up at the clock and watched as the thin red hand spun around the wheel. As every minute ticked by with still no word from him, I started to sink lower and lower into the couch. I flipped my shoes off and stared down at my phone, not understanding what had caused him to stand me up. By ten o’clock I was sure he wasn’t coming, and I got up, flipping the light off in the living room and staggering back to my room.
I knew I should feel sad or angry, but in reality I didn’t feel anything. I was numb from the waist down. I took off my dress and left it in a pile on the floor, climbing up on the bed and pulling the covers over my body. I lay there with my head on the pillow, staring out the window. I felt completely and utterly defeated. I had been so excited and really thought he wanted to spend time with me. Why would he even ask me out to dinner if he had no plans on seeing me again? I gritted my teeth and sighed, looking at my phone one last time before turning it off completely. I had never been stood up before, and the fact that Anthony did it just a couple nights after making love completely and totally blew my mind. I guess Missy was right after all.
Chapter Eight
Andrew
There I was, sitting at my desk, staring at my computer screen. The day was inching by at a glacial pace, and my mind was all over the place. I couldn’t focus; I couldn’t even take meetings that day. My secretary looked at me as if I had the plague when I asked her to clear my schedule for the day and keep my visitors to a minimum. I never put work on the back burner, and I mean never, but today was a completely different story. Maybe if I hadn’t been so stupid to begin with, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.
Eliza was a good girl, sweet, caring, and really amazing to have around. I had set up dinner with her because it felt right, and even up till about six, I was totally down for going. Then it happened—my conscious started to creep in, my brain started building walls, and I started to get completely freaked-out. I didn’t call her, I didn’t reply to her texts, anything. All I did was stand her up, and I couldn’t stop imagining her sitting excitedly in her living room waiting for me. I mean, I was a douche a lot of the time, but I had never done something that assholish in my life. I felt horrible for it and on top of that was starting to regret not having her in my life.
I put my hands over my face and groaned into them, tired of my brain running over me like that. I sighed and looked down at Amy’s picture. I picked it up and ran my finger over her face. I remembered the exact day that picture was taken. It was three days before Christmas, when we went away to Aspen for a little vacation. We decided to do this ski-the-lights thing where you skied down a mountain that they filled with elaborate Christmas lights. When we got to the base of the mountain, there was a bonfire and hot chocolate all set up for us. I told her to smile even though she was freezing, and I snapped the picture.
I took in a deep breath, feeling that familiar twinge in my chest when I thought about Amy and the memories. She was so kind and giving, and I knew if she could tell me, she would scream at me for not allowing myself any kind of happiness. I knew she would get so angry if she knew I had treated any girl like that. She would want me to be happy, I knew this, but the problem was, I didn’t know how to make myself happy anymore. I had built up so many walls and trained myself for so long to live a life separated from love that it almost came naturally to me to push people away. This time, though, I was sure it really hurt Eliza, and that in itself was excruciating to me.
The thoughts blew from my mind at the sound of a knock on my office door. I sat up and took a deep breath, almost forgetting I was still at work. I put the picture down and turned toward the door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door creaked slowly open and in stepped Melinda, one of our newest employees. She looked nervous, which was normal when people approached me these days. I tried to muster the kindest smile possible and reached out, taking the file she had in her hands.
“I’m sorry to bother you Mr. Cartucci, but I needed an okay on these new markups for the Henderson account,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said nodding and opening the folder. “Wow, these are really good. You definitely have an eye for this job.”
“Thank you.” She blushed.
I went through every page, putting my initials in the lower right-hand corner. When I was done, I handed the file back to Melinda and smiled. She nodded and turned to leave, then breathed deeply as she turned back to me. I looked up at her curiously, seeing that she was fighting herself on what she wanted to say.
“What is it, Melinda?”
“Forgive me, sir,” she said, sitting down. “I just noticed you weren’t your normal self today. Are you okay?”
“Thank you for asking,” I said with a sigh. “I guess I am. Just a lot going on. But I appreciate you taking the time to ask me. No one else has.”
“Well, I suppose that’s probably because everyone else is afraid of you,” she said, looking down at the floor.
“That sucks,” I said, laughing. “I’m really not a scary guy.”
“Maybe it’s the Italian thing,” she chuckled. “I think everyone thinks you are involved in the Mob.”
“Ha,” I said, surprised but not that much. “Why do people always think New York Italian means mobster?”
“The movies maybe.” She smiled. “I don’t think it helps that you are pretty angry most of the time. People think there is more going on than just business in here.”
“I guess it would help to be a bit nicer,” I said, shaking my head. “I really am not an angry guy, and I’m definitely not part of the Mob.”
“Well, I hope things get better,” she said, standing up.
There was something refreshing about this girl. She told it how it was, even when she was scared to say so. She reminded me a lot of Eliza in that way. I needed someone’s opinion, and I couldn’t talk to Mason; he would just chide me. I knew it wasn’t smart bringing one of the girls from the office into my personal matters, but I was pretty much alone these days. After Amy died, I pushed everyone away, and I really didn’t blame them for running.
“Melinda,” I said before she could open the door. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” she said with a smile, walking back over and sitting down.
She seemed like such a sweet young lady, and I didn’t really know what to say, but I needed some advice. I knew she might look at me differently after this, but at that point, it was keep going where I was or get someone’s opinion outside of my own head. I took in a deep breath and crossed my hands in front of me.
“I made a mistake, I think,” I said. “I stood someone up that didn’t deserve it because I was scared. I don’t know what to do.”
She smiled and shifted in her seat, thinking about the answer to give me. I could tell she wasn’t judging me, which made me feel better. She breathed deeply and crossed her hands over her knees.
“There may be nothing you can do,” she said. “A woman’s heart is a complicated thing, and where it takes men years to build up walls, it can take us only moments. However, if she is really important to you and you feel that you can keep yourself from doing that again, then make a gesture. I don’t mean a grandstand, shout-it-to-the-world gesture, but a gesture big enough for her to take notice. She probably doesn’t want to see your face right now—I’m just being honest, but if there is something else you can do, then I would do it.”
I nodded slowly and looked at my computer screen, thinking about my options. I didn’t really know where to go from there, but it definitely was helpful. Basically, I needed to get rid of this fear and do what my heart told me to do. I had to jump in knowing she may turn away, and it may hurt, but it was nothing compared to if I did nothing.
“If you don’t think you can keep yourself from doing it again,” Melinda said, standing up and walking toward the door, “then let her go. You owe her that much.”
“I understand,” I said. “Thank you for your candor.”
“Anytime,
” she said warmly.
As she closed the door, I sat back in my chair, leaning it backward and thinking about Melinda’s words. She was right—if I couldn’t commit to Eliza, then I needed to leave it alone, leave the damage where it was. I didn’t want to hurt her any more than I already had. Was I ready to give up those walls and really commit? Usually I would say no, but I knew if I didn’t make this up to her, I would never be able to get her off my mind. I didn’t know for sure that I was ready for long-term, but I knew I was ready for right now, and right now Eliza was the woman I wanted. I would have to sort it out as I went.
I thought about what she had told me over the last few days, and a lightbulb went off in my head. I leaned forward and opened the browser on my computer, looking up the bridal shop that she and Missy were going to on Thursday. I picked up the phone and dialed the number, pretending to be Missy’s personal assistant and verifying her appointment. It was indeed the place, and she had the entire shop to herself all day.
Immediately I knew what I had to do, but I sat there frozen for a few minutes, making sure that I was ready to do it. I had to be sure, just like Melinda said. I had to know that I was doing the right thing for Eliza and not just for me. I had spent the last ten years doing everything for myself, not thinking of others or how it impacted them, and now I felt like it was time that I moved past that and started to grow.
I got to work on my plan, meticulously etching out every aspect of it. I made several calls, talked with the owner of the bridal shop, and latched all the pieces together. I wanted it to be a perfect sign to Eliza that I was sorry, without forcing her to be in front of my face. I wanted the gesture to resonate with her and make her feel like I was completely sincere before I ever delivered the actual apology to her face. My plan was great, and the execution would be flawless, but the one thing I was not in control over was how Eliza would react. She was unpredictable, which was one of the things I loved about her the most. At that moment, though, unpredictable also meant that I may never know how it would go over with her.
When I met Eliza, I thought she was amazing, and though I only planned to get her in bed, there was something in the back of mind drawing me to her. She was absolutely gorgeous on the inside and out, and I found myself wanting to be close to her, and not just in a sexual way. She had become a light in my life and she had only been there for a few days. I had ignored all of this, too afraid to admit to myself that there could be someone else out there for me, almost a second chance if you will. I knew that this was my second chance at happiness, and it had to be with Eliza.
When I was done making all the plans, I could feel a bit of enthusiasm and hope trickle back into my body. The heaviness weighing on my mind lifted slightly, and I was finally able to take a deep breath. Melinda had been right. I needed to make that gesture, to show Eliza how sorry I was. Now all there was left to do was wait, and it was going to be an agonizing two days for sure.
Chapter Nine
Eliza
It was Missy’s big day. She was going to finally pick out her wedding dress. This was her third time to the shop, and she had about twelve to try on again, this time wanting my opinion. The place was gorgeous, and the staff was attentive, which they should have been since Mason rented the whole place for an entire day, paying an arm and a leg for her privacy. She looked so excited and so happy, and I was trying not to be resentful, but it was a little difficult under the circumstances.
“I don’t know about this one,” she said, turning toward me.
“Mmmm,” I said, scrunching my nose at the embroidered roses. “It feels like a real authentic Southern wedding dress. Like something my cousin Fanny would wear.”
I was trying desperately to be talkative, but I could tell there wasn’t much pep in my step. I listened and gave my advice but didn’t have that cheer that I normally had on a regular basis. I felt like Anthony had ripped the perkiness right out of my soul, and that was a bit much since I had known the man all of two seconds. I mean, seriously, he was just a guy who took me on some awesome dates and got exactly what I knew he was after. I should not be shocked in the least.
I glanced up as Missy took the rose dress off and began changing into another one. I had no interest in this wedding dress shopping today, and it made me feel terrible. I looked down at my hands and fiddled with the rings on my fingers. It made me think of the moment I saw a ring on his finger—I almost freaking lost it. I was pretty sure in the span of ten minutes I even imagined throwing his ass off the room. If only I had kept going that night, not turned back and listened to his story, I would be thinking about the wedding and laughing with Missy about the creepo I went on a date with. Instead, I was sitting here being mopey.
“How about this one?”
“Mhmm, that’s nice,” I said, completely lost in my thoughts.
I heard the swishing of the gown but ignored it, figuring she was prancing around the stage looking at it from all angles. I heard the two girls to the side giggle and move to the back, which caught my attention. I looked up to find Missy staring at me wearing the most 1980s wedding gown I had ever seen. The front was V-neck with white see-through material on it. It was a shiny satin, and the shoulder pouf was bigger than her head.
“Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “What is that?”
“Exactly,” she said, stomping down the stairs. “What is up with you? You are like on another planet or something.”
“I screwed up,” I sighed.
“What happened?” Missy sat down in the chair next to me.
“At the engagement party, I met Anthony,” I said.
“Cartucci?”
“Yeah, he came up to me at the bar and we just started talking,” I explained. “He gave me his number, but I didn’t call, remembering what you said. Well, the next night he called me up and asked me to dinner. It was a Saturday night, I had nothing going on, so I figured why the hell not. He took me to Balto’s and rented out the entire balcony.”
“Wow,” she said, impressed.
“I know. And then he told me about his dead wife,” I replied. “Then we went down the street for drinks. He really opened up to me, and I knew it bothered him, but he didn’t stop. At the end of the night, he asked me back to his place, but I said no, despite the copious amounts of alcohol that I had consumed.”
“Good girl,” she said, slapping my leg.
“So, I was there, waking up with a mega hangover, and there was a knock at the door,” I said. “It was Anthony’s driver telling me that Anthony requested my presence. So, I went—I mean, what else could I do? I ended up on a yacht, eating breakfast, talking about life, and cruising the river.”
“Whaaat? That’s crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, he hadn’t been on a boat in years. That was how his wife died.”
“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling even more confused. “Well, after that he took me to Manhattan and we walked around the city. He had remembered me telling him the first time we met that I loved doing that. From there we had a meal at the Waldorf where he slipped me a room key.”
“Uh oh,” she said, looking like she needed popcorn.
“Of course, I went up there. I felt like I was in a movie,” I said, shrugging. “It was freaking amazing sex, and at the end, he asked me out to dinner for Tuesday.”
“Oh,” Missy said excitedly. “How was that?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “He texted me that day saying he would pick me up at eight. Then he stood me up. He didn’t call, text, nothing.”
“Aw, man,” Missy said. “I’m sorry, Eliza.”
“It just doesn’t make sense to me,” I grumped. “Men are so damn complicated.”
“I told you not to get involved with him,” she said like a mother. “He has been through a lot, and he has seriously built up those walls. From the sound of it he did actually like you, but he freaked out when he realized it. I’m sure he didn’t intentionally hurt you—he may be a playboy, but Mason said he has a good heart, it jus
t has some cuts and bruises on it. Mason knew him after his wife died, but he could tell how much he carried it with him.”
“So here I am,” I said, “trying to understand, trying to remember it was only two and a half dates, the half being the night we met, but still feeling completely defeated.”
“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry,” she said. “Do you want to put on this dress and dance around in the window so you can scare some of the people on the street?”
“No,” I said, pouting but trying to hold back a smile. “Besides, I think that dress was made for you. Could you imagine Mason’s face if the music started and you walked down the aisle in that thing? You could wear the giant hoop skirt underneath it and make it so he can’t even get close to you to dance.”
“I could hide doves underneath and let them loose inside the venue,” she said, laughing. “They can poop on all the rich assholes coming.”
“I like it—not very vegan, but I like it.” I laughed.
We both looked up at the sound of the owner of the shop clearing her throat. She lifted up what looked like five bags of food and set them on the table in the corner. I sighed and shook my head, thinking about how lucky Missy was.
“See,” I said, pointing at the mounds of food on the table. “This is what Mason is doing while I can’t even get picked up for a date.”
Missy laughed as she walked back onto the stage and had the girl lift the terrible dress over her head. She took the robe off the door and wrapped it around her as she walked back down. We peered over at the amazing amount of food spread out before us.
“Actually,” the owner said. “This is not from Mr. Phillips. This is from a Mr. Anthony Cartucci. He sent Eliza a card.”
The Art of Love Page 5
