True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story (36 page)

Tessa calls early one morning.

“Hello?” I say groggily.

“I’m SO SORRY, I couldn’t wait to call you!”

“What’s going on?” I prop up on both elbows.

“We have a date!”

This wakes me up. “Tessa! When?”

“September 21st!”

“Like 6 months from now, September 21st? What? How did you do it? Where?”

“You’re not gonna believe it, Ro. There was a cancellation at—wait for it—the RITZ CARLTON!”

I pull the phone away while she screams. I’m screaming too.

“The Ritz?” I yell. “HOW did you manage
that
?”

“It’s all too crazy. The wife of one of the lawyers at Jared’s firm is a wedding advisor there. How crazy is that? We hit it off when I came to one of Jared’s work thingies, you know, when we first moved—” she takes a huge breath and continues “—she put me on the waiting list then and said she’d call me the minute there was a cancellation … that I’d be at the top of the list. She thinks Jared and I have waited long enough.” Tessa giggles. “Anyway, she called at 7 this morning and told me the good news. Well, good news for me; bad news for the poor bride who was
supposed
to get married that day…” Her voice trails off.

“Tessa, let’s not think about her right now. Let’s just be happy for you, okay?”

“Okay!” she says happily. “I’ll be coming home to go dress shopping—I’ll let you know when I have some definite dates.”

“Can’t wait.”

“And you’ll come early before the wedding too, right?”

“YES! Of course! If you’d said it was this weekend, I would be hopping on a plane right now to get there.”

“Love you, Ro.”

“I love you, too.”

And then Michael comes for a visit. My parents inform me that he’s coming when I’m over for Sunday dinner the week before. When Michael went back to Seattle, he got his degree and went on to medical school. He decided the ministry wasn’t really for him. My dad has stayed in touch with him, but this will be the first time they’ve seen him since he left.

“He’s just staying with us for the weekend. He wanted to see everyone before he starts his residency,” my mom says.

“He’s staying here?” My eyes narrow at her, trying to decipher if she’s setting this up to try to get us back together or if she’s as surprised as me. I can’t be sure.

She nods and gets very busy scrubbing a pan.

I’m looking forward to seeing him … as long as he doesn’t try anything with me.

As I get ready to have dinner with Michael and my parents, I think back to our time together and how much has changed. I wonder if we’ll still recognize each other, if the people we used to be even show through anymore. I pack an overnight bag. I’ll be staying at home while he’s there, so we can get the most time out of this visit.

I pull up to the house and help my mom with the last-minute preparations. When Michael arrives, we all go to the door and yell excitedly when we see each other. Michael hugs my parents first and then his eyes settle on me. He wraps me up in a big hug and grins his huge grin.

“Hey, Ro. It sure is great to see you.”

“I’m so happy to see you!” I tell him and I mean it. “You look great!”

“You look more beautiful than ever. I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve seen you.”

“I know, I can’t either,” I say as I take his arm and walk with him inside.

Conversation flows easily as we all catch up. Michael always had a way of telling a story and his laugh is infectious. My heart is full as I think about all he’s accomplished and how well he’s turned out. I knew he would be a wonderful man and he is.

Later, after my parents have gone to bed, I stay up talking to Michael.

“I’ve heard bits and pieces about what happened with you and Ian,” he says after we’ve exhausted a few topics.

“Yeah, it was … hard.” I feel horrible even talking about it with him after I broke his heart … over
Ian
.

“I won’t lie, I wanted that guy to suffer for a long time … after I lost you. But I never wanted you to go through anything like this.” Michael looks at me, and I see the sincerity in his eyes. “Are you okay, Ro? Are you really okay?”

“I haven’t been,” I admit. “It’s been long enough now that I should be snapping out of it sometime soon here.” I laugh awkwardly. “But I just can’t seem to…”

“Well, he was an idiot for wrecking his chances with you. I know that no one is perfect, but you come pretty close.” He reaches over and touches my cheek softly. “And I want to kill him for hurting you.”

“You’re a good man, you know that, Michael?” I smile. “I’ve missed you. There are times when I’m going through something and I wish we could talk … just to have someone who knows the old me, you know? The fun, lighthearted me. Do you know what I mean? I don’t recognize myself anymore. I’m moody and dark and cynical. I don’t like it.”

“You’re still in there. I still see you. Only now, you wear better clothes, are even hotter, and have an edge to you that’s not all bad!” He dodges as I throw a pillow at him.

The rest of my time with Michael is more of the same: fun, easy, sweet. After we all hug him goodbye, and he’s getting in his car, I yell one more time for him to drive carefully. He laughs over his shoulder, waves one more time and that’s the last time I see him. He goes home and decides to finally commit to his girlfriend.

- 29 -

There’s a little coffee shop table that I’ve taken over to write when my cottage is caving in on me. It’s by the window, has an outlet just under the table and is, simply put, the best spot. I come about four times a week and it’s always open, just waiting for me to get to work.

Running a little later than usual, I impatiently wait in line to get my morning blend with cream. When I turn around, I notice him. He’s hard not to notice—he’s at least 6’5” and hot.
Really
hot.

I get all set up at my table and am getting ready to dive into a new book idea that I can’t stop thinking about, when I feel someone standing over me. I look up, and he’s standing there, looming over my table, scowling.

“I usually sit here,” he says.

I raise an eyebrow. “Nice choice.”

“Yeah, it’s the best table in the place.”

“I agree, which is why
I
always sit here.”

“Well, you haven’t been here any other time…”

“Look,” I interrupt, smiling sweetly, “if you wanted an excuse to talk to me, you could have just said so. Really, I don’t bite.”

His mouth drops open and the corners of his lips begin to quirk up.

I roll my eyes. “Get lost. I was here first.”

He quickly clamps his mouth shut, but the grin stays … grows, even. “I tell you what, I have a great idea. How about we share this table? Yeah, I like it.”

I look him over. Crisply pressed shirt, filled out with his broad chest and defined shoulders, polished cuff links, brown hair combed with not a single strand out of place.
Maybe this is perfection. Sure fits the bill.

I let out a long sigh. “No.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. I’ll be quiet. There’s plenty of room.” He lifts his eyebrows and puts both hands together in a comical pleading pose.

“Oh, all right,” I snap.

He laughs and holds out a hand. “I’m Shane. Sorry I was such a grump. I need to drink some of this before I can be nice.” He holds up his coffee mug.

“I’m Sparrow. Have a seat.”

We don’t get any work done, but do set up a date for Friday.

“Unless, I see you before then at ‘our’ table,” Shane says as he leaves.

One date leads to two and before I know it, I’ve been dating Shane for three or four months. My stance on All Men are Evil ended a while ago, but I still don’t fully trust them. I don’t think I ever will. Shane is intelligent, fun, witty, so sexy, and he stirs up some lustful thoughts that I haven’t had since ———.

He plays golf, though. Obsessed with it. Any guy I’ve met who is a golfer doesn’t just play it for fun every now and then. They play it every single time the weather is above 55, if the skies aren’t unleashing hail, and if they happen to have a day off work. In California, that’s pretty much every day, unless you’re a workaholic. Shane isn’t. And since I don’t have a “real job”—Shane’s words—he thinks I should be able to play golf with him
every day
. Maybe if he were an old retired man, but he’s 25!

I don’t
think
so.

It’s a good thing he knows how to use his hands.

Tessa meets Shane when she comes. After shopping for a couple days straight, we meet Shane for drinks.

“God, he’s gorgeous,” she whispers when he walks up to the bar. “Do you do nothing but stare at him all day? I would.”

“I do enjoy looking at him.” I grin at her, watching him tap his fingers against the wood while he waits. “I think it’s what I like most about him.”

“Uh-oh,” she says. “I thought this one was…” she stops when Shane turns around and sets our drinks on the table.

We make small talk for the first fifteen minutes, until Shane gets going on a self-help book he’s been reading. The fact that he reads is a plus, but his reading material annoys me. He talks for a solid twenty minutes about it, singing its praises for helping him in his sales job.

Tessa’s eyes cloud over. She looks at me and raises both eyebrows.

So he’s somewhat dull, too.

When I drop Tessa off at the airport, she says, “You’re welcome to bring Shane to the wedding—that is, if you’re still dating him by then.”

I roll my eyes. “We’ll see.”

Shane has stayed over the last few nights. My place feels like it’s a mouse hole when he’s here any longer than a day. The walls are closing in on me.

“Why don’t we get out for a while? Movie? Beach?” I suggest everything that comes to mind while he stands there and tosses a golf ball. Up, down, catch. Up, down, catch. Uuuuppp, down, catch.

“STOP!”

He turns to me with a frown. “What?”

“Stop with the ball for a second. Wanna go to Santa Cruz?”

“I thought maybe we could go for at least 9 holes … come on. It’ll be fun.”

Every part of me cringes. I have to fix my stare to avoid rolling my eyes. “I’m not spending the day driving your cart around. No.”

“We could walk … good exercise?” He moves in front of me and leans down to kiss my neck.

I brush him off. “You go ahead. I need to go see my parents today, anyway. I need to borrow one of my mom’s suitcases for the wedding. We’re trading—she’ll bring one of my smaller ones when she comes.” I shake my head. I don’t know why I’m explaining all this to him. He tuned out when I said ‘no’.

“Okay, well maybe I’ll meet up with you later? Dinner tonight?”

“I think I’ll hang out with them tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve been over there.”

“Will I see you before your trip?” he asks as he ties his shoelaces.

“You know what? Probably not. I have a conference call with Louise tomorrow to discuss my new manuscript. And then I have some errands to do before I leave the next day. This is probably it.”

“Okay.” He leans down and kisses me. “Have fun. Tell Tessa she still has some time to back out.” He laughs at his own joke, grabs his duffle bag, and waves as he walks out the door.

I’m so glad I didn’t invite him to the wedding.

Instead of hanging out at my parents’ house, I pick up the suitcase and come home to pack. Normally, I like to plan an outfit for each day and night—no extra. But since I’m packing for almost a week and Tessa has been a little scattered on details lately, I throw in a couple extra dresses and an extra yoga outfit, just in case. Tessa wanted to make my dress, but we found a beautiful gown while we were shopping for her dress. I convinced her that she didn’t need the added pressure of making the bridesmaid dresses.

All of the dresses are a muted red. Mine has extra detail since I’m the maid of honor, with a plunging halter neckline, cinching in the waist, and a low cutout in the back. It’s exquisite. I leave it hanging so it doesn’t get smashed in my suitcase yet.

Louise and I accomplish a lot the next day. We talk for a few hours, first discussing upcoming signings and then covering the timeline for my new book. I love every bit of this work. It’s the only time I am fulfilled.

After I’m done with all the errands, I go to my parents’ and spend the night. They will take me to the airport in the morning. We have a fun night, but I crawl into bed early, feeling worn out. I think about Shane and inwardly groan. It’s not going to last with him. In fact, I need to just be done with men altogether. It won’t do any good. I can’t forget
him
.

I stare at the ceiling, and as always, it settles on me. The grief. It’s been two years, ten months, and four days and it still cuts just as deep. I turn over and open my nightstand drawer. I haven’t done this in a long time. It’s not smart, but I pull out the small photo album of Ian and me. It’s got about 100 4x6s of us, from the very beginning to the end. I flip through the pictures and see the way he looked at me, the love in his eyes. The light in my face that went away the day I knew what he’d done.