30 First Dates (22 page)

"That's right. It's been widely reported—and Colin Marks told me right here, as a matter of fact—that he wanted you to move to L.A. and you refused. What role did Noah play in your refusal?" She obviously wasn't ready to give up the line of questioning.

Amelia looked completely unruffled—Erin had to give her credit. But then, a year-plus of dating an A-list celebrity and starring in tabloid headlines meant she'd had plenty of practice.

"No role at all," she answered. "Noah lives in Texas, as you know, and we were high school sweethearts. We reconnected after Colin and I broke up."

"You were more than high school sweethearts?" Hoda's voice lilted at the end, turning the statement into a question. "There's wide speculation that you and Noah were once engaged. What happened to end that relationship?"

Noah was the one who answered. "A misunderstanding," he said. "When I found Amelia after all those years, I was still in love with her, and she felt the same way about me." He smiled as if he couldn't help himself. Erin noticed him squeeze Amelia's hand, a gesture she knew the cameras didn't capture. Erin smiled, too.

Just then, the hosts cut to a commercial break. Erin wondered if the three-minute interview was it, if it was all over, but crew members rushed in to touch up the hosts' makeup and adjust Amelia's mic, and Erin knew there was more to come. The break seemed to happen very quickly—strange, she thought, because commercials always seemed so long from the other side of the screen.

After reintroducing the guests, Hoda Kotb turned to Erin, catching her off guard. Erin bit her lip and stopped herself from reaching up to push her hair off her face.

"You accomplished your aim in reuniting Noah and Amelia," she said. Erin moved her lips to protest, but Hoda cut her off. "How are you doing in meeting your own goals? This blog you've created—and for those viewers who haven't heard or read about it, it's more like an online reality show she's starring in herself—is it more about finding fulfillment, or finding a man?"

Erin thought for a fraction of a second. "It's my bucket list," she said. "I wrote down thirty things I wanted to accomplish before I was thirty, and I'm checking them off one by one. And in the process, I'm going on thirty first dates. It's not really about fulfillment
or
men. It's more about experiencing life."

Hoda looked satisfied with that answer. She segued into a brief description of Erin's blog mission, and a screen to Erin's left, at the back of the stage set, flashed up a screen shot of 30 First Dates. Then the image morphed to the video Gus had shot the day before, ending, as she'd anticipated, with the goofy grin she'd flashed at the end of the bridge.

Kathie Lee turned to Amelia again and asked a question about the release of her next book. As she answered it, Erin watched Hoda, sensing that her own portion of the interview was finished and wondering when the host would jump in with the question that seemed poised on the edges of her lips.

Sure enough, before Amelia had finished talking she spoke up. "Are the rumors of an engagement true this time?" she asked, leaning forward in her chair.

Amelia and Noah both seemed to stiffen slightly, and Erin's eyebrows rose involuntarily. She hadn't seen that coming, and apparently neither had they.

"Um," Amelia said, and Erin thought,
You just gave away the farm.
Nowhere in this entire process had Amelia uttered the word "um." She watched both Noah and Amelia with interest. Noah looked stricken and Amelia abashed. "We haven't announced any future plans," she said, at once composed again.

"We're taking things one step at a time," Noah added, again squeezing Amelia's hand.

"And that's all we have time for, folks," Kathie Lee broke in. "A big thank-you to our guests, world-renowned author Amelia Wright, whose second feature film releases in November, starring her former fiancé—"

"Not her fiancé," Hoda broke in.

"That's right," Gifford corrected herself, "her former
non-fiancé
Colin Marks. And to Dallas architect Noah Bradley and Dallas-based blogger and reality star Erin Crawford, thank you for being here today."

"Thank you," the three guests murmured in various stages of relief.

Erin was still reeling at being called a "reality star" on national television when she was ushered off the stage.

*  *  *

An hour later, tucked into a corner booth in a tiny café in Chelsea, Erin stared across the table at Noah and Amelia. She'd been surprised they'd extended the invitation, but she now understood they wanted to be sure she protected their secrets.

"And you swear you won't put anything about this on your blog?" Amelia asked her for the third or fourth time. Her forehead was wrinkled with stress, and Erin felt bad for her former rival. Obviously the strain of all this attention was getting to her.

Amelia and Noah had only gone public the day before, Erin learned. Their first exclusive interview since news had broken of Amelia and Colin Marks' breakup had aired on
The Rachael Ray Show
, of all places, while Erin had been taking her televised walk across the East River. Noah said they both thought Rachael Ray seemed non-threatening, unlike most of the others they'd interviewed with—including the
TODAY
co-hosts. They were now making the rounds, completing the full interview circuit in hopes that going public would cause the media to lose interest and leave them alone.

That didn't seem likely after their final question flub-up in the
TODAY
interview.

"I swear," Erin said, curiosity building up like pressure in a shaken soda bottle. She tried not to seem too interested.

Noah looked from Amelia to Erin and blew out a breath he'd been holding. Glancing around the restaurant and making sure no one was within hearing distance—even though people at several tables had been shooting surreptitious looks at their table since they'd hustled out of their shared cab and sat down—he leaned toward Erin, cupped his hand around his lips, and mouthed, "We're married."

"What?" Erin said loudly, sure she'd misunderstood him.

Noah gave her a dirty look. Amelia merely closed her eyes.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I just…what?"

Noah nodded. "You can see why we'd like to get the media off our backs," he said.

Erin shook her head. "I don't think that's happening any time soon."

Amelia looked like she was ready to cry, and so Erin said in a voice barely above a whisper, "That's…awesome? Congratulations!"

It worked. Amelia and Noah smiled first at each other, and then at her.

"Thanks. And thank you for helping clear my good name on your website," Noah said, and Erin felt relief flood through her body. "You were about the only person saying anything positive about me out there." He laughed.

"I was afraid you'd be mad," she admitted. "I wasn't trying to profit from your problems."

Amelia waved her hand in front of her face. "He knew that, trust me," she said. "If you'd wanted to profit from us, you'd have had plenty of places to sell your story." Her face wore the wisdom of someone whose cynicism had been hard-won.

"I'm happy for you, really happy," Erin said.

"I know," Noah replied, and the pure joy Erin read behind his expression was contagious.

It's Complicated

September: nine months to thirty

After making rounds of the office with Artie, her new boss, and saying hello to at least eight people whose names she'd instantly forgotten, Erin settled into a chair in the gray cubicle she shared with two other interns. Her day had started in a meeting with Kyle that also included Artie, the magazine's managing editor, and Sheila, a heavyset, perky woman in her forties whose thick eyeliner made her eyes look sunken into her fleshy cheeks. Sheila was a copy editor who also managed the interns' schedules and oversaw their work. Erin wasn't entirely sure who to call her "boss"—all three of them, she supposed. She was beginning to get an idea of the workings of a corporate setting, an environment she hadn't experienced outside of episodes of
The Office
.

She'd be working two days a week, and though Sheila kept dangling the promise of "some editorial work" she'd eventually be assigned, her responsibilities mainly consisted of feeding information from press releases into an ongoing document staff members referred to as "The Ledger," a lengthy summary of industry events that ran at the center of every issue. The magazine shared office space with a trade show company, and both were affiliated with a professional group for financial planners.

The other two interns came in on other days of the week. Erin wasn't sure if she'd ever cross their paths, though they worked from shared documents and there was a sticky note on her computer screen from the Monday-Wednesday intern, that said "Hi Erin, I'm Amber! :)" in swirly script.

The atmosphere was so unfamiliar it was disorienting, and Erin found herself missing the camaraderie of a high school's hallways, the expectant faces of students on a first day of class. It was Tuesday morning, and she felt like she was going through somebody else's motions.

She'd logged in for each of her two online classes the day before, and there, at least, she felt comfortable. She'd taken some online classes with her first master's degree, and apart from the subject matter, this time didn't feel any different. She was glad she'd started slowly, since between her blog's explosion in popularity and this new job, the downtime she'd experienced in the summer was a luxury she wouldn't experience for another four months.

She swallowed her nervousness, opened The Ledger, and followed the instructions Sheila had given her to log in to her new email account and begin work.

*  *  *

About two weeks later, Erin met Devon for dinner at his place. They were almost finished eating when Erin's phone buzzed with the arrival of a new text.
Paul.
She moved her hand, an attempt at subtlety, placing her wrist across the screen of her phone until the message disappeared.

Of course Devon noticed.

"Text from Paul? Or is it Ben?" he asked, a sardonic smile pulling up one corner of his mouth.

She grimaced and flipped the phone over, and then thought better of it and pushed up from her chair, taking her phone to her purse where it lay on his kitchen counter and stuffing it inside, out of sight. An indie band whose name she didn't know was playing through an iPod dock in the living room, the strains of the music soft and caressing. She returned to sit beside Devon at the small, square table.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "It's okay. I'm just messing with you."

"I know," Erin said quickly.

"I sort of know what I'm getting into," he added, watching as she raised her fork to her lips and took a bite of sautéed diver scallops that were drizzled with a delicate, herby cream sauce. It turned out Devon was an amazing cook, one of the many things she'd uncovered about him that made her like him more and more.

"Mmm," she said, closing her eyes and avoiding the question. She was avoiding a lot of questions lately, questions about Paul, questions about Ben, and especially the questions that plagued her about Devon—that he had a son, that she hadn't met him yet, that she was sure she didn't want to because no man with a son and a grown-up life and a past marriage needed to be mixed up with somebody as flighty and noncommittal as her. She suddenly wasn't sure what she was doing there.

But this dinner was divine. The air that cocooned them smelled of wine and rosemary, and the taste…oh, the taste. And the taste of Devon, whose kiss when she'd showed up at his door made her feel like she could melt.

She liked him. And she liked Paul. She'd met Paul for lunch the previous weekend and had another date with him in three nights, and she'd never done anything like this before. Then there was her blog, her list. She had to go on dates with seventeen more men in the next nine months, and for that to happen, she couldn't go falling for one of them this early.

Or for more than one…

She took another bite, still savoring, still avoiding.

"Do you know what
you're
getting into?" Devon's voice was even lower than usual, husky. Erin felt her breathing speed up. To mask it, she picked up her glass and took a long, slow sip of chardonnay, which was buttery and delicious and perfectly enhanced the flavors of the food.

She looked up at him then, conflict in her eyes. "No."

He pushed his plate aside and took the fork from her fingers, spearing the last portion of a scallop, swirling it in sauce, and then putting it to her lips. He watched her as she took the bite, chewed, and swallowed.

She took another sip of wine just to have something to do with her hands, with her mouth. Her thoughts were swirling, but muddled—she couldn't think clearly. If that was his goal with the seduction scene, it was working. He took the glass from her fingers and set it on the table before leaning toward her and covering her mouth with his.

He tasted sweet and a little bit salty, complicated. He slid forward on his chair and pulled her up so they were standing in the kitchen, swaying softly as they kissed, almost but not quite dancing to the music that still played.

When his hands slid along her arms and up her sides, when she felt them tug down the zipper on the back of her dress, she felt like she was coming unzipped, too. He pulled away from her and tugged her hand, and she followed him from the kitchen, up the dim stairway toward his quiet bedroom in his quiet house, still…not…thinking…

She shimmied out of her dress on the stairwell and left it where it fell. His gray tee landed on top of it. At the top of the stairs, he reached for her again, and then they were skin against skin.

Oh, so complicated.

*  *  *

"You had sex with him?" Sherri's voice was high-pitched, squeaky. Erin didn't miss that along with shocked, she sounded impressed.

"Oh, God. God." Erin's head dropped into her hands. "I so did not mean for this to happen." Her head spun through the events of the previous night, which stretched into waking up in Devon's bed this morning to the blended aromas of coffee and of something sweet. It turned out to be French toast stuffed with bananas and cinnamon and drizzled with warm maple syrup.