Chocolate for Two (16 page)

“Yes, I know how much you love Nick.” She picked up our empty bowls and walked into the kitchen, stomping a bit too hard on the linoleum.

An awkward silence followed while she washed the dishes. Andie and I never had awkward silences.

I flipped through a magazine until she finished up in the kitchen, the sound of the running water soothing the tension between us. Something was clearly up, but it was pointless to push before she was ready to talk about it. I just didn’t know how much longer I could wait to find out.

When she returned to the living room a few minutes later, things seemed back to normal. She clapped her hands together. “Hey, I have something for you.”

I looked up and grinned. “Something for me? As in a present?”

She nodded and walked toward her bedroom. “It’s from Nick. I forgot to give it to you the last time you were here.”

“I love him!” I yelled after her.

“I guess the feeling is mutual!” she yelled back.

She came back into the living room and tossed a small plastic bag at me.

“Ah, I just adore the wrapping paper.” I reached inside and pulled out a green T-shirt that said
THE HOTTEST GUYS LIVE IN SAN FRANCISCO.

I laughed. “I love it! I won’t be able to wear it outside of this apartment, but I love it.”

“I’ll tell him you plan to sleep in it. He’ll be thrilled. So, listen, I’ve got some work to do before I hit the hay, so I’m going to have to kick you out. I guess I’ll see you on Saturday?”

I nodded. “Sure. I’ll let you know where to meet me as soon I hear from Mrs. McIntyre.”

“You’re really calling her
Mrs. McIntyre
?”

I sighed. “You’ll see.”

As I rode the fancy elevator back down to Earth, I could only hope Andie was really doing work up on the forty-eighth floor.

By Thursday afternoon, I was beginning to worry. Paige had already put up the job announcement for a temporary replacement, so we started interviewing right away in hopes of finding a permanent candidate. The bulk of applicants were more or less qualified for the position, but no one seemed quite right. And while I admitted to being a bit picky, I wasn’t the only one holding us back from pulling the trigger. Paige agreed we had yet to find the perfect match. Everyone we met was either too corporate, or too artsy, or too inexperienced, or too weird, or too bland. It was like interviewing people in the Three Bears’ house.

“We’re
never
going to find someone,” I groaned after yet another failed interview. The woman we’d just met, a Portland transplant with several years of retail experience, had seemed like a good fit until the end of the meeting. As we were winding things down, the conversation had turned personal, and the candidate let it slip that she had several snakes in her apartment…as
pets
. Yikes. This was on the heels of another applicant who had seemed pretty normal, until she adjusted her hair to reveal a small tattoo on her neck…a small tattoo of the Budweiser logo.

“Don’t give up, Waverly. We haven’t quite interviewed
everyone
in New York yet.” Paige handed me my purse as I turned out the office lights.

I locked the door, and we stood waiting for the elevator. “This is like dating, you know that? I thought I was done with dating.”

She laughed. “You’re right. It totally
is
like dating. Can I tell you again how glad I am to be done with that for good?”

“Amen to that,” I said.

We exited the building, and as we walked toward her subway stop, I interlocked my arm with hers and intentionally slowed down. She followed my lead and also relaxed her pace. We strolled in silence for a bit, both of us aware that our moments together like this were numbered.
I’m going to miss this.

I removed my arm and held up a finger. “The thing I hate about dating is that you never know what’s lurking even
one layer
below the surface. I remember making out with a guy I’d met over an entire day of drinking beers and watching college football at a sports bar. So, granted, my judgment was a little impaired, but at the time he seemed like a nice, normal guy.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Don’t they all seem nice and normal before we hook up with them?”

“Good point.”

“So what happened?”

“So the next morning, as I was getting ready to embark on the walk of shame, I noticed that he had only one framed picture in his apartment.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

She shrugged. “That’s not so weird. A lot of single guys don’t put pictures up.”

“Yeah, but this picture was…of
him
.”

She looked over at me. “Of
him
?”

I nodded.

“You mean of
just
him?”

I nodded. “Just of him, standing on a random street or something.”

“Okay, that’s a little strange.”

“I guess I wasn’t the only one who thought he was a great guy. Apparently he did too.”

Paige laughed. “I love it.”

“I’d totally forgotten about him until right now. What an ass. He never even called me.”

“He was probably too busy Googling himself.”

“Why are guys so
weird
, Paige?”

She shrugged. “God knows. When I lived in Baltimore, I once met a guy in line for pizza after a night of drinking and dancing with my girlfriends. He was cute, so I gave him my number when he asked.”

I looked at her. “I can already tell this is going to be a good story.”

She smiled. “Oh yes. He called me a couple of days later and asked me out to dinner. I was drunk when I met him, so I thought it best to meet at the restaurant.”

I nodded. “Usually a good call.”

“Well he parked about four blocks from the restaurant, and it was on my walk there, so I met him at his car and we walked the rest of the way together.”

She paused.

“And?” I said.

“And halfway there—in other words,
two
blocks from his car—he announced that he forgot his wallet in the car but that it was okay because he just wouldn’t eat.”

“What?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my God.”

“It gets better. So we got to the restaurant, and we—in other words
me
, because he would only eat the free chips and
salsa—were halfway through the dinner I was paying for when he grabbed my foot and pulled it into his lap.”

I covered my eyes with my free hand. “Stop.”

She laughed. “I was wearing flip-flops, and he said my foot was just so sexy that he needed to suck on my toes right then.”

My jaw dropped. “That might be the best dating story I’ve ever heard.”

She took a little bow. “I knew I could one day top you.”

Just as we reached her subway stop, my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and looked at the caller ID.

“It’s Jake. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder. “You bet. And on a more serious note, don’t worry about the position, Waverly. We’ll find her…or him.”

I nodded and tried to look more confident than I felt. “I know.”

Paige descended into the subway as I answered the phone. “Well, hello there, fiancé. How’s it going in Dallas?”

“It’s Dallas. It’s going. Any luck with the interviews?”

I stuck my tongue out. “Unfortunately, no, and it’s beginning to stress me out. I’ve always known Paige is amazing, Jake, but I didn’t realize how hard it would be to find
other
people who are amazing. What if I can’t find someone to replace her?”

“It’s only been a few days, Waverly. Try not to worry so much. It will work out eventually.”

I immediately felt myself relax. I knew he was right—things
would
work themselves out one way or another. Jake’s calming influence on me was undeniable. After years of tearing my hair out over things I couldn’t control, I was finally learning to get a grip and just go with it. A younger version of myself would have
been completely freaking out about Paige’s leaving. The new, mature me was only…
sort of
freaking out.

That evening I went for a run. With a wedding looming, not to mention a day of dress shopping in just a few days, I knew I had to step up my workout routine beyond walking to the coffee shop for lattes and sticky buns. I’d found a hill near the Brooklyn Bridge and hauled myself up and down it several times, wondering how much longer I could withstand this self-inflicted torture. Working out just wasn’t as easy as it had been in my twenties.

In a few weeks I’ll be thirty-two.

That’s closing in on midthirties.

Wow.

I wasn’t a kid anymore.

So much had changed.

And I’d never been so happy.

Then I thought of the dilemma I was facing with Paige and Waverly’s Honey Shop, not to mention my expanded workload at
Love, Wendy
.

Ugh.

Being a grown-up certainly had its fun moments, but I was also realizing it wasn’t always a bowl of ice cream.

When I was done with the final trek up the hill, I clasped my hands behind my neck to catch my breath. I walked over to the promenade and lifted one leg onto the railing to stretch my hamstring. I gazed out across the East River and smiled. I never got tired of the view. To my left was the Statue of Liberty, to the right the Brooklyn Bridge. As I switched legs, I surveyed the buildings
in lower Manhattan straight across the river and wondered which one was Andie’s ivory tower.

When I got back to my building, I didn’t feel like going inside yet. It was a gorgeous evening, and I just wanted to enjoy the weather and the endorphins I’d whipped up during my run. Despite everything I had coming down the pike—professionally and personally—right then I truly believed I could manage it. I’d forgotten how exercise can make you feel like Superwoman.

I’ve got this!

I
can
handle it all!

Or maybe I was just in denial.

At that moment, I didn’t care.

Instead of calling it a night, I bypassed my brownstone and continued on toward Atlantic Avenue. I admired the scenery as I strolled along the quiet streets. When I reached Atlantic, I turned around and wandered through Brooklyn Heights for a while with no real plan or destination, feeling lighthearted and free.

The sun was setting when I finally opened my apartment door nearly two hours after I’d left. I stripped off my sweaty clothes and tossed them into the hamper, then poured myself a huge glass of water and was halfway to the shower when I glanced at my left hand.

There was no ring on it.

Oh my God.

I freaked out. I bolted into the kitchen and set the glass down, threw on some clothes, and grabbed a flashlight and my keys. I had to retrace my steps before it got too dark out.

OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.

I was sure I’d been wearing the ring when I left for my run.

How could I have lost it?

I ran down the steps out the building door. Which way should I go? Forward or backward? I decided to start from the beginning. I set out, scanning the sidewalk at every step, trying not to cry.

An hour later I returned, empty-handed and distraught. It was dark outside now, and I was cold.

And shaking.

And crying.

And furious at myself.

How could I have done this?

What am I going to tell Jake?

I paced around the apartment. Was my memory failing me? Maybe I hadn’t worn it running? I looked in my bedroom, in my jewelry box, in my nightstand, all through my dresser drawer. Under the bed.

Nothing.

Had it come loose when I took off my workout clothes? I pulled everything out of my hamper and went through it all on the floor.

Nothing.

Then I scoured the living room. Couch cushions, phone stand drawer, desk drawer, bookcase, even my mom’s wooden box.

Empty.

I moved to the kitchen and checked every nook and cranny. Nothing. A search of the bathroom yielded the same result.

When there was nowhere left to look, I stood in the living room and wiped the remaining tears from my cheeks.

Once again, I stripped off my clothes and tossed them into the hamper, then took a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away the sick feeling that was engulfing me.