A Previous Engagement (5 page)

“What is it about us that people don’t understand, anyway?” I looked to him before continuing, but he sat still, tapping away on that coffee mug. "Honestly, it's not complicated. You and I are friends. I mean, it’s not like we’ve ever dated.” He slid his glasses off, wiping them clean with the hem of his shirt, but still said nothing; so I kept talking. “Unless you count that weekend in fifth grade. But that was just a movie and my mom went with us, for crying out loud. That hardly counts as dating.”

I grabbed my purse from underneath my chair and fished around inside it for my wallet. “I think it’s my week to pay,” I said, digging out a five. I slid the money and the hand-written bill underneath the empty pot. When I looked up at Christian, his expression unnerved me. His hands worked mindlessly to clean his finger-smudged glasses. His mouth was crooked and his eyebrows pinched, a typical expression that meant he wasn’t saying something.

“What?” The silence exaggerated the sound of my voice. “Are you ok?”

Christian’s left eyebrow wiggled slightly. Then the moment was lost. His head ducked down again, his focus returned to those damn glasses.

“Christian, please look at me.”

“Just drop it, okay?” He slid the glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, stood up and started buttoning his jacket. “I’ve gotta get back to the studio.”

We walked to the door together, waved goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Antonio, and stepped out into the spring air. For nearly mid-day it was especially freezing, the wind tossing my hair every which way. Pulling my coat around me, I stood up on tip-toes to kiss Christian’s cheek.

“I’ll see you at Kendra’s for dinner Friday, right?” He tucked the loose end of my scarf back into the neck of my coat then straightened my lapel.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.” My office and Christian’s studio were in opposite directions, equidistant from Tosca’s. In the bitter cold New England weather, I seriously regretted not picking a place that was less convenient but more T-accessible.

“Please don’t freeze before then. Okay?”

“Right back at you, Mr. I’m-Too-Manly-To-Wear-Gloves.”

“Maybe you should’ve bought me a pair for Christmas, you stingy brat,” he smiled. I stuck my tongue out at him and he winked. “See you later.”

“Bye,” I waved, as he started to turn up the street.

He looked over his shoulder and the smile had melted away. Our eyes connected for a weird moment, the kind that usually makes me squirm uncomfortably and search for somewhere else to look. This time, I stared right back at him, trying to see what he saw, but he disappeared around the corner before I even had the chance.

****

My afternoon workload seemed dull in light of Christian’s strange behavior. Things were going unsaid between us, something that only ever led to trouble. If he was hurting and trying to cover it up, I wanted to get to the bottom of it. If there was something else at play, I wouldn’t rest until I found out what it was. My logical brain was running laps by lunchtime.

When I’m thinking too much, I call Kendra for a reality check. After lunch, I tried the restaurant to see if she was working. She was, and she wasn’t happy about it.

“What do you want?” she answered when the hostess connected me to the kitchen.

“Just wanted to see if you need me to bring something Friday,” I said sweetly, the only way to combat Kendra’s grouchiness.

“And let you ruin another one of my kitchens? No, thanks.”

“Cut it out. I fully intend to bring pre-packaged contributions. Like, Shaw’s A La Carte or something.”

“How dare you even suggest pre-made food? Besides, you won’t have time if you’re working till seven as usual. Don’t worry about it. Just get here, okay?” Despite her sharp words, Kendra’s grumpy edge softened.

“I’ll leave early,” I said, manufacturing confidence in my voice. The stack of papers on my desk said otherwise. “I’ll have plenty of time to swing by the store on the way.”

“You always say that, but you never do it,” Kendra sighed, probably shaking that red head at me. So I loved my job, so sue me. “If you make it out early, pick up some fresh fruit, okay?”

“Done,” I smiled, happy with an assignment both useful and easy to produce. “Are you working the lunch shift Friday?”

“Of course I am. Who else is going to fix the mess these people make in my kitchen?” Her voice rose to a quiet yell, undoubtedly meant to catch the attention of her four-person kitchen staff.

“Be nice to them. You only pay them minimum wage, and still they put up with your mood swings. If anything, they deserve a raise for that alone.”

“You hush,” she said. “I pay them what the law tells me.”

“And not a penny more, you stingy brat,” I stopped on the very words Christian used against me earlier, affectionate words exchanged often among our trio. With the memory, a fresh wave of confusion hit me. “Hey, have you talked to Christian since the party that never was?”

“Yeah,” she said, chewing her gum loudly into the receiver. She must’ve been counting inventory or something, because Kendra always chews with her mouth open while preoccupied with a mundane task. “He babysat Riley last night. Grant had this big deadline and I filled in for Raoul—
again
—so people could actually eat in my restaurant. Christian came over to put Riley to bed. He’s such a life saver sometimes. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” She had enough on her mind without worrying about Christian too. “I was just wondering what your thoughts were on a party for his thirtieth next month. Do you think he’ll want one?”

“We’ll keep it small, I guess. Do something here?”

“That works,” I twirled the phone cord around my finger. “He probably won’t want to make a big deal out of it after… you know. Do you think he’s okay?”

“He’ll pull through, I’m sure. But I think you should talk to him,” Kendra said between gum chomps. “He needs you right now.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because,” Kendra’s patience waned. “You’re his friend, dumb ass. And he just got his heart crushed by the recipient of this year’s Alien Fashion Award.”

“Ooh. Good one.”

“Thanks. The point remains: Christian’s heart was broken by
yet
another girl. What do we do when that happens?”

“Set him up with someone else?”

“Eventually, sure. But first, we help him through it. Just be there for him, okay?”

I took a deep breath. She was right; my only job was to be his friend right now. I couldn’t explain why I’d gotten so rattled over something stupid like eye contact. I’d looked into Christian’s eyes so many times I could draw every colorful fleck of them. They’re just eyes. He’s got them. I’ve got them. Everyone’s got them. Eyes, plain and simple.

For now, I decided to help Christian get over a breakup, which was precisely the moment Savannah Livingston walked into my office.

CHAPTER FOUR

Savannah wanted to borrow a stapler, not acquire a new boyfriend, so I kept things casual and handed over my Swingline. No big deal. I wanted to invite her to dinner at Kendra’s that Friday, but knew it was too obvious and much too soon. Christian needed more than six days’ cushion time between girlfriends. Two weeks at least. Plus, I could see that Kendra was right: be his friend first, play Chuck Woolery later. Today, Savannah got a stapler; but in a couple of weeks, who knew what could happen?

I needed time to get to know her better anyway. After all, one does not set up one’s best friend with a girl based on appearance alone. I was already acutely aware of Savannah’s good looks—chestnut brown hair that was salon-perfect every day, long legs she liked to show off with short but tasteful skirts, and a body that was clearly not accidental. Savannah was neat and clean, cared about how she looked, and always had something nice to say. Last week, she complimented me on my brand new teal sweater when no one else even noticed how well it brought out my eyes.

As her boss, it was almost
my job
to pay more attention to her, which I used to my advantage. A quick visual sweep of her cubicle on my way out the door one evening revealed many things: a Cool Cats wall calendar (she’s a cat person); a schedule of regular yoga classes (she’s athletic); and a coffee mug reading “Hard work never killed anybody, but why take the chance?” (she’s funny, too!) All good things perfectly suited to Christian—an athletic guy who loved animals and had a great sense of humor. If Hallmark could make love a business, so could Tessa Monroe.

When I sat next to Savannah at Friday’s staff meeting, I swear it was just a lucky coincidence...and I don’t speak any French, so the meaning of “reconnaissance” is lost on me. Thus, it was with purely professional intent that I proceeded to cross-examine Savannah in the few minutes before the meeting began. Really.

“So did you catch the game last night?” A risky move. Not a follower of
any
sports team—nothing short of a crime here in Boston—I held my breath and prayed there had been a game, any game.

“Oh, the Sox game?” Savannah’s eyes lit up. This would be good news for Christian, who often threatened to sell his first born child for tickets to Opening Day at Fenway. The box office clerks never took him up on the deal, but a scalper once seemed interested.

I kept my answer to a nod, afraid to commit any further. If she wanted to talk about the game, I was so screwed. Why couldn’t I have opened with something I actually knew about? “Hey did you catch that Lifetime movie last night? No? Oh, it was a good one! Teen pregnancy again, but this time, the father was an illegal immigrant. She needed to marry him or he’d get deported, but her parents would give their permission!” I didn’t know anything about teenaged, unwed mothers impregnated with the children of illegal aliens, but I knew Lifetime. You had to go with baseball, didn’t you, Tess?

“That Pedroia homer in the ninth was wild!” Her smile broadened. I racked my brain for a Pedroia. “Dan was complaining the game was over by the fifth, but I wouldn’t give up on my Sox. I told him, Pedroia’s a clutch hitter. He always works it out, just give him some time, you know?”

In all of that sports jargon, my brain clung to one word only: Dan. I suspected he may be a potential roadblock, so I put on my best girl-talk voice and resolved to find out more.

“Dan, huh? Is that your boyfriend?” I sounded like my mother.

“Oh, God, no!” she laughed. “Dan’s my little brother. He’s visiting from Maryland to look at colleges. No boyfriend here.”

Jackpot. This “reconnaissance” stuff wasn’t as impossibly French as previously thought.

“Are you from Maryland?”

“Yeah,” she hesitated, flipping open her portfolio pad to a fresh page. “I know what you’re thinking: a Sox fan from Maryland?” That wasn’t at all what I was thinking, but I let her continue. “My family is from this area originally, but we moved just outside of Baltimore when I was twelve. I couldn’t give up my Sox, you know? Not for the
Orioles
.” She scoffed as though switching teams was a capital offense. Was it? “Have you ever been to Baltimore?”

Cha-ching! “Actually, yeah,” I smiled. “My friend Christian went to Johns Hopkins, so I visited all the time. It’s a great city. After he graduated and moved back here to finish photography school, I missed the trips.”

“Wow! Photography school? Good for him.” Savannah rooted in her purse, extracting a package of Luden’s cough drops—another one of Christian’s favorite things. A trail of destiny’s bread crumbs lay between them; I just needed to follow it. “I always wanted to be a photographer.” She tossed a cherry cough drop back and forth in her mouth. “I worked as an assistant for a while. Never worked up the guts to go for it though.”

“Why not?” I shifted to the edge of my seat, overcome by the eerie perfection of it all.

“My parents wanted me to get a four-year degree. I thought I’d just go to photography school after I got my business degree, then open up my own studio, you know?” She shrugged. “But one thing led to another, now here I am. I never had the time to try it out. I really admire your friend. Christian, right?”

Setting them up was going to be a cakewalk.

****

I was late for dinner. Twenty-two minutes late to be exact. It wasn’t my fault that one of my interns missed her deadline by nearly forty-five minutes. It also wasn’t my fault that two grocery stores were completely sold out of strawberries. It especially wasn’t my fault that there was traffic because some cat was stuck up in a tree in the town common. Stupid cat.

When Kendra opened the front door, I flinched. I really hated when she yelled, so it helped to be prepared.

Instead, she smiled. “Oh good, you’re right on time. Early, actually.”

My eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Huh?”

“I planned dinner for seven-thirty, but told you seven. It’s Tess Time.” She scurried back to work as I stood in the doorway.