Love.com (9 page)

Was she
really this pathetic? Anger coursed through her to know he didn’t give her one passing thought. He was nice to her at work, charming, but that was his personality. She couldn’t recall him ever getting personal or lead her on.

No, she had gotten personal all on her own, weaving an imaginary romance about them that wasn’t there, would never be there. She bit her lip as futile feelings of
longing coursed through her. But no more, she thought with determination. No more would she be Emily the Ugly Duckling. She was going to be Emily the Beautiful Swan if it killed her.

Emily threw herself into her work as the weeks passed, and her diet, hardly noticing when her lunches of Diet Coke and a tub of yogurt yielded a
nother fifteen-pound weight loss. The fact she didn’t eat much else wasn’t lost on her. She knew such behavior was borderline anorectic, but she had no appetite, grieving over Ian daily.

She stood in shock in her bathroom
that morning as she stared at the navy suit that now hung on her, disbelief in her expression.

The s
cales didn’t lie. She hopped on the digital scale with relief in her expression. The near-starvation and working out was finally yielding positive results. She felt buoyed by her present success.

She now had the nerve to accept a date from Bachelor#1, as she called him. His name was
actually Gregg. He was an avid golfer, liked quiet nights with a good wine. He was a service manager at a local car dealership. His profile said he was looking for the woman of his dreams to share further adventures with.  He was handsome, witty, and worked out three times a week.

Emily felt little caution emailing him back. They were meeting for drinks that night at an upscale eatery not far from her office. She felt a twinge of dismay to realize she looked nothing like the picture on her profile.

Still, once Gregg met her, he would see she was the woman of his dreams. Emily basked in these thoughts as she went about her daily work, imagining a whirlwind romance, a quiet civil ceremony at the court house on their wedding day, with only friends and family in attendance. Gregg would save her from this void she fell into, she was sure of it.

That night when she entered the
restaurant, Emily was relieved she arrived early. She used the time to soothe her nerves while she waited for Gregg. She took a table in the rear with full view of the front door. She ordered a glass of white wine and waited, fidgeting as she second-guessed this date for the hundredth time that day.

While she waited for Gregg, she allowed herself to dwell upon the uneventful day at work. She saw little of Ian. He was doing some other work for Ambidor
. He was in and out of the office. Her team took that time to inundate her with every mundane thing they could think of.

Desiree demanded
more time off to see her family. Ed wanted a bigger office. Lenny whined someone stole his lunch again from the lounge. Tabitha hounded her for the press releases for the artwork. Evan breezed in from his business luncheon with Stu and other clients, hardly thanking her for covering for him while he was gone. Who was she kidding? Ian’s absence that day distressed her, denied the pining she did on the daily. She was frustrated to not see him, as if he was the sole reason she was there.

Emily was sure the date was just what she needed to get over her impossible attraction to Ian. She was so sure of her date’s success; she splurged on a new dress. She threw caution to the wind, ignoring the fact it wasn’t on sale. She was worth it, wasn’t she? After tonight, she wouldn’t be dating anymore. She would settle into a comfortable routine with Gregg, have quiet nights with good wine, and forget about Ian
Sawyer forever.

She became irritated when she glanced at her watch and saw Gregg was a half hour late. She was impossibly punctual. This was a definite red flag for a first date. After it became apparent Gregg was detained, she texted him. She was relieved when he texted her back
. He was on his way.

Emily ignored the waitress
. The girl swept by once more to see if she was ready to order. She knew she was tying up the table, could see the girl was growing miffed. She threw her a bone and ordered a bottle of wine and a salad. Emily stewed over Gregg’s tardiness for another twenty minutes. She ate her salad and drank another glass of wine before the door opened and Bachelor #1 swept inside.

Gregg
looked disheveled as he swaggered into the bar area. His sport coat was soon discarded over a chair. His tanned, handsome face was unbecomingly flushed as he ordered another drink at the bar. So far, he hadn’t even looked around to find his date.

He wasn’t in the
greatest athletic shape as he appeared in his photo either. Emily was dismayed to see he had more than a few extra pounds around the middle. Still, she was relieved she wasn’t the only one who fibbed on their profile. The picture he submitted was at least ten years younger than he appeared. He had to be in his early forties, not the thirty-four he put in his biography.

Gregg was still handsome, still the man he claimed until he looked over at her table and promptly turned away, looking elsewhere. It was obvious he was looking for the model in the picture, not Emily.

The waitress arrived to ask her if she was ready for her bill. She gestured to her date, asking the girl to tell him she was here. Emily watched the waitress approach Gregg with baited breath. He turned back around. He gazed at her with dismay evident in his expression. He tossed down his rum and Coke and approached, looking wary as his watery blue eyes slid over her with disappointment so obvious, it was rude.

Emily
could smell him before he was standing in front of her table. She knew he was drunk, the fumes nearly making her gag. She stiffened in obvious disapproval, unable to believe the guy would show up to a first date intoxicated.

“You must be Emily?” Gregg shook his head and sat down before he staggered and fell, chuckling at his own private joke he refused to share. “You look different from your picture. How long have you been here
anyway?”

“Not
that long,” Emily lied with a pasted smile, hiding her disgust. Gregg was obviously wasted. “You don’t look like your picture either, by the way.”

“I look
a lot closer to it than you do, darlin’. At least the picture was me! You got a lot of nerve to say anything!”

“Yeah.
You looked like your picture fifteen years ago!” Emily looked contrite and shook her head as Gregg hollered back for another drink to their waitress. “I don’t think you need any more to drink.”

“I don’t think I
ever asked you, honey,” Gregg said with a nasty slur, his blue eyes narrowed as they settled on her in a nasty way. “You aren’t that bad to look at, on second thought. Why don’t we just have a drink, and see what we see?”

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Emily replied sourly. “I hope you take a cab home. This date is
officially over!”

“Whoa, now! Easy! I can see we got off to a rough start,” Gregg mumbled as his drink arrived. “Just calm down
, Emma! Don’t get your panties in a twist. I had a rough day at work. Let’s just get to know one another, ok? You got me here, didn’t you? Might as well make the best of it.”

Emily knew all she needed to know, judging Gregg to be three sheets to the wind. He was drunk off his ass! She felt like an idiot. All she wanted to do was go home to lick her wounds from his cruel comments. The last thing she needed right now was to spar words with a drunk, middle-aged car salesmen. The wedding was definitely off! She took the time to read his nametag he failed to remove from his shirt. Gregg wasn’t a service manager at all, but a salesman on the lot. He had a lot of nerve pointing out the untruths in her profile. He lied about himself too!

“Why don’t we just have some fun
while we’re both here, Emma?” He ordered another round. His watery blue eyes appeared unfocused as he leered at her. “I got a company car out front. You ever ride in a new Camaro? Sweet ride.”

Emily didn’t bother to correct him about her name. She wanted to run as far as she could get from this creepy guy. “I have to get up early in the morning. It was nice meeting you but I really have to go.
I’ll pass on that ride”

“Aw now, just stick around and have some fun, Emma,” Gregg crooned, his hand sliding under the table to stroke her thigh reassuringly
, making her skin crawl. “Let’s both get somethin’ out of this, huh? Why don’t we go out to my car?”

“I don’t think so,” Emily replied tightly
, repulsed by his unsavory proposition.

“What’s your problem? You uptight or
somethin’?” Gregg glared at her, his stale, rum-laden breath making her want to retch up her salad.

“No, I’m not uptight
at all; just sure you aren’t my type.”

“Come on,
honey, just relax,” Gregg slurred as he put back another drink, belching disgustingly. “The night’s still young. Who knows, maybe I can get you to loosen up after I get you in my car, huh? I bet once you come out of that frumpy dress, your one hot mama.”

“This is really
not happening!” Emily was through being polite. “You don’t even know me! So much for quiet nights with a good wine! Do yourself a favor, and go to AA, buddy!”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Gregg
weaved over the rim of his drink, his bloodshot eyes dipping to her chest. He lingered there, unhearing. “Come on; quit being such a tight-ass. Loosen up. Let’s just have some fun, Emma.” He then reached under the table to fondle her thigh again. “You got an itch to scratch, and I’m happy to oblige you.”

Emily shoved his hand off her leg
. She inched farther back into her chair, offended by his touching her. She had no intentions of having any fun with Gregg. She collected her purse and eyed him in disgust. “As I said, it was nice to meet you, but I have to go. I suggest you don’t drive tonight. You’re too drunk. Have a nice life, Gregg. This date is over.”

“
Hey, screw you, bitch! I’m not drunk!” Gregg’s voice shot up three octaves, making people turn and stare at them. “You got a lot of nerve showin’ up here puttin’ me down, lady! You’re lucky I don’t notify that dating site of what a goddamned psycho they have on there!”

“Ok, I’ve had enough
of you,” Emily snapped and glared at Gregg. “It’s obvious why you’re still single, Gregg. Good luck with Love.com. You’ll need it.”

Emily didn’t see his elbow fly out
. He knocked his drink over. She didn’t jump up before it was too late. Her lap was soaked with his rum and Coke now. She fumed as she snatched up a cloth napkin to sop up the ice cubes floating in her lap. Gregg was giggling drunkenly, hiccoughing, and finding the whole scene funny.

“I’d say the same to you
, babe. Trust me you ain’t any loss.”

Emily hurried away from the table, mortified the other patrons heard the exchange
. They laughed impolitely at his words. She only wanted to get away from the horrible scene as quickly as she could, not seeing the waiter clearing the bar with a tray laden down with drinks.

Emily ran into the young man and upended his tray, sending the drinks crashing to the floor. The waiter exclaimed in dismay
. She uttered a stuttering apology, backing away to the door. She turned and ran then, too embarrassed to see if she was pursued.

Emily
didn’t stop running until she got to her car. She left the eatery as quickly as she could, fuming over her own stupidity. She should have demanded he send her a picture message, something current, before meeting him. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. His cruel words made her lower lip jut out. She knew she was a disappointment to him too. He didn’t have to make such a scene.

So much for happily ever after
, Emily thought in anguish. She could scratch Bachelor #1 from her list.

~
~ ~

The
gossip about Ian and Tabitha was all over the office in the weeks that followed, whispered about behind the pair’s backs when they would disappear at the same time during the day. Evan was too busy trying to get the ad for Ambidor moving to realize his mistress was straying. Nobody wanted to be the bearer of bad news. Emily told herself she didn’t care. Every time she saw them return separately from their hour-long rendezvous, she burned with jealousy and misery.

She found the discarded matchbook from the Carlton Hotel in the ladies room. It fell out of Tabitha’s handbag while she was fixing her face.
Tabitha hadn’t spoken to her since she vented on her outside the elevator. Emily held the matchbook in her palm now, frowning slightly. The Carlton was only blocks from their office building. For some reason, she had some doormat-like need to know if the rumors were true and the pair was sleeping together.

Emily knew she should mind her own business and continue corresponding with the men on Love.com and forget about Ian.
She knew she should leave well enough alone. Still, the attraction burned strongly within her.

Emily
smiled at him in the same cheerful manner these days, careful not to let him see the wounded pain in her expression. When she spoke to him, it was always in the same professional manner, her tone not betraying her inner torment. She was careful to not let on how much it hurt to know he didn’t see her at all.