What Love Looks Like Read online

  Maureen and I drove together right from work, and we’d coordinated ahead of time to meet Ryan and Kevin at the venue, which was at a west-side golf and country club. We showed up about fifteen minutes late, and the lobby was already bustling with people dressed in their nine-to-five attire. I’d purposely dolled up that day, wearing an extremely fitted navy pencil skirt and an ivory silk shirt. Nude shoes and gold costume jewelry finished off my outfit—quite nicely, I had to admit.

  The décor at the venue was typical of an old blue-blooded golf club. Paintings of white-haired men adorned the walls, and muted reds and golds were seen throughout the walls and furniture. It reeked of old wealth. As an event planner, I had to believe that a 614 Magazine event would have been much cooler had it been held downtown, somewhere with exposed brick and dim lighting. Third & Hollywood and my date with Jay came to mind, and I quickly squashed the memory of that night before I got too hot and bothered.

  I sampled some of the food being passed around, noting that the hors d’oeuvres were mediocre at best; the shrimp was rubbery, and the scallops were slimy. But bad seafood aside, the party was open bar, and after coming off three days of nonstop busywork with very little communication from Jay about the trip or otherwise, I was ready to enjoy a drink or two. The dog sitter was stopping by for Luna at six, so I wouldn’t have to hurry home. She charged a small fortune for all of the walks and feedings that Luna needed throughout the day, but my little companion’s comfort was worth every penny.

  Maureen and I caught up with Ryan and Kevin, who beat us to the bar. Ryan, always the gentleman, took my coat when I first walked in but then disappeared for a few moments to talk with another man in a suit. Now he and Kevin had cocktails in hand and were chatting up winners from other categories. They knew so many of the people at the event, just from being in the business and taking care of the city’s most reputable partiers.

  “You look great tonight, Elle,” Ryan said when he returned.

  “Thank you. Congratulations on the award. You guys deserve it.”

  “It was a team effort. We couldn’t do the sales we do without you and Maureen spearheading the private dining side.”

  He was in a good mood. I’d only ever seen him drink a few beers, so liquor consumption must have caused him to come out of his shell. Considering the chilly treatment I’d received at our last exchange, this was the only explanation I could think of.

  “You’re too kind. So, what are you drinking?” I asked, hoping to turn the attention back to him.

  “It’s a Ketel One on the rocks with a splash of water and a twist.”

  “Yikes. That was my ex-boyfriend’s drink of choice too.”

  I was eerily reminded of his drunken escapades, physical and emotional violence included. I had been young and dumb then, and hadn’t realized that I deserved more than being shoved around by a drunken control freak when I didn’t do exactly as he said. It was part of my life that I was still trying to forget.

  “Oh,” Ryan said, a bit more seriously. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “I only have a drink every couple of weeks.”

  “You’re allowed to do whatever you want—I’m not saying anything about you. It just reminded me, that’s all.”

  “I know how that is. I still think about my ex-fiancée when anyone orders an amaretto sour.”

  I laughed. “Who the hell orders an amaretto sour? Was your fiancée a seventeen-year-old girl at a wedding?” I hated to poke fun at a woman I’d never met, but I'd felt empathy toward Ryan ever since hearing about his ex’s infidelity.

  “Don’t give her that much credit—she was way less mature than a seventeen-year-old,” he said, smiling. “So how are things with the dude from New York?”

  “Things are good. I’m flying there to see him soon, but you know, taking it slow.” I was trying to downplay the intensity of my feelings for Jay.

  “Does the distance bother you?”

  “The right guy is worth traveling for,” I said, grinning. “Plus, it’s New York City. I could get used to it.”

  “So you must think he’s the right guy, then.”

  “He might be.” Maybe I was mistaken, but I thought that Ryan’s wide-set brown eyes looked a little disturbed.

  “Well, that’s great for you, Elle.”

  He turned back to Kevin, and I to Maureen; I rarely saw her intoxicated but loved it when I did. The event turned out to be great fun, and I couldn’t help but notice that Ryan kept my glass full and never let me open a door or pull out a chair all night long. But then again, that was what he did for a living, and he did it well. He had that old-school charm about him that most guys not only didn’t possess, but also didn’t know existed.

  I tried to tear myself away from the party just before ten, but Maureen insisted that I was too drunk to drive.

  “I’ll call a cab,” I said.

  “Just stay at my place,” Maureen said.

  “I can’t, I have the dog.”

  “I’ll take you home,” Ryan said. “It’s on my way.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked abruptly.

  “You live near the restaurant, right?”

  “Yes, she does,” Maureen answered for me.

  I’d turned my attention to my cell phone and the text I’d received from Jay that read, Hi, sexy. Distractedly, I wrote, Hey you, back to him. I almost couldn’t believe my own audacity. While my friends were plotting how to get me home safely, I was busy paying attention to Jay.

  “It’s no problem,” Ryan said. “She obviously can’t drive.”

  Evidently, Ryan would drive me home, and Maureen would pick me up in the morning and take me to the office where my car was. I had to admit that for all of the negatives of my job, making amazing friends was one positive.

  Ryan opened the passenger side of his black SUV, the make and model of which I couldn’t decipher. I was careful to keep my legs together as I climbed in and fastened my seatbelt. He gently closed the door after me. He came around to the driver's side and hopped in. He softly smiled at me as he started his car, and the Beatles came on the stereo. It was The White Album, and to my surprise, he quietly sang along to the lyrics of “Dear Prudence.”

  “You’re a Beatles fan?” I had regained my coherence as the sound of my favorite band of all time filled the car.

  “Big time. You?”

  “Of course, and this is my favorite album, actually.”

  When “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” piped through the speakers, Ryan and I both got lost in song, and no doubt looked completely foolish, but I couldn't have cared less. It was such a rush. I never would have pegged him as a lover of classic rock. It gave me momentary pause. I was starting to feel like I had more in common with Ryan than I did with Jay. How on earth was Ryan still single? For a split second I wondered if he’d allow me to set him up with someone. But then for some reason I cringed at the very thought of him on a date.

  When we pulled up to my apartment building, Ryan quickly jumped out of the driver’s side and appeared at mine in seconds flat. He helped me out of my seat and onto the street. He made sure I safely inserted the key to my apartment building door, and when I did, he winked at me.

  “I had a great time tonight,” he said. All of a sudden, it felt as though we were at the end of a date.

  “Um, so did I. Thanks again for the ride, and I’ll see you later this week. I owe you one.” I winked and walked in the door, and he shut it behind me.

  It was a peculiar encounter, but I supposed was just being a good friend, and I was grateful for it. I wasn’t used to having quality male friends in my life, and I was still warming up to the idea of being friends with Ryan at all. I liked having him around. It seemed like a good safety net to have a big, strong, dare I say powerful man as a buddy of mine. It certainly couldn’t hurt and would probably come in handy some day. Ryan was right, the night was great, and so I decided not to analyze it any further.

  9

  The day after the ceremony, Maureen
and I were nursing wicked hangovers. Penny was out of the office, so our productivity was well below where it should have been. The events at the end of the night before were fuzzy, but it dawned on me that I’d completely neglected Jay, somewhere in the commotion of getting home. We’d exchanged texts back and forth, but I passed out before saying goodnight. I checked my messages and noticed that he hadn’t written me either, so my guilt switched over to mild irritation; I’d been wasted for the first time in ages—what was his excuse? It only added to my concern over how casual our relationship had become.

  The final days leading up to New York blurred together; it felt as if time were flying yet simultaneously standing still. One day meshed into the next with no real break to collect my thoughts about my impending travels. Luckily, I’d gotten the time off work with no problem. I had no choice but to lie on my request-off sheet. If Penny had known that I was going out of town to visit a gorgeous man that I’d only just met and was having a whirlwind romance with, she certainly would have denied my request out of sheer envy. It was Maureen’s idea to claim that I was having a minor surgical procedure and would need a three-day weekend to recover. Request granted.

  I spent a small fortune on new dresses and shoes. I couldn’t look anything less than spectacular for Jay. We’d have three days together, and I had to look my best at every turn. It was unquestionable that he’d be looking as hot as ever, and I had to measure up as best I possibly could. I spent hundreds of dollars on spa services too. I had to be smooth, flawless, and free of excess body hair.

  Not only had I put an obscene amount of money on my credit card, I'd also spent hours on end trying on every frock, jumpsuit, romper, skirt, caftan, and blazer in my closet. To be fair, though, I did that before every trip. I couldn’t go somewhere without trying on the clothes I planned to wear first. I hated over packing and didn't want to look too high maintenance by bringing too many outfits (a little high maintenance was acceptable, but having backup outfits for every single day and night was bordering on insanity, and I couldn’t have Jay seeing all of my idiosyncrasies just yet).

  I never failed to struggle with sleep the night before any exciting event (like Christmas or girls’ trips back in college), but before leaving for New York I tossed and turned like never before. A hybrid of excitement and terror filled every fissure of my brain. This time would be the real deal—the litmus test. It was my third encounter with Jay and would include two nights, three days, and hopefully lots and lots of Jay Conrad's delicious body all over mine.

  My flight out of Columbus International Airport departed in the late morning. After a blowout at Drybar, I changed into my jet-setting outfit: black J. Crew leggings, an ivory Alice & Olivia tunic, and black wedge booties. Shortly before ten thirty, Luna and I ventured downstairs. Emily was picking us up to take me to the airport and would take the dog to my parents’ house for the weekend.

  “Hey,” Emily said, as I opened her car door to pass off Luna.

  “Hi, Em.” I was on autopilot. I popped my luggage into her trunk and hopped into her front seat. “Thanks again for taking me.”

  “No problem. Are you excited?”

  “Yes, but nervous too.”

  “Why are you nervous?” she asked.

  “You just have to know Jay. He’s intimidating. His hotness is off-putting.”

  “You’re out of your mind.” I didn’t know where she was going after that slightly offensive remark. “You need to take him off the pedestal and put yourself on it instead.” It was an eye-opening insight from my younger sister. It was easier for her to feel that way than it was for me, though; she’d always been someone who guys fawned over.

  “I know, I know.” But I had no desire to discuss it any further. “How’s Mom?”

  “Good, but she’s still bitching about how you never come over. Says your job is bullshit.”

  “Well, she’s right about that. It’s taking over my life. It’s a miracle that I got these three days off in a row.”

  “You can’t keep this up forever, Elle,” Emily said. “You’ll burn out.”

  “Just a little while longer.”

  “And then what?”

  I didn’t have an answer, but Emily had posed a thought-provoking question. What was next? I knew I couldn’t spend the rest of my life working six out of seven days every week at a job that I hated. I wasn’t getting any younger, and in all of my excitement surrounding Jay, I’d put my future career aspirations on the backburner.

  Sitting in the terminal, I couldn’t help but notice how lean I’d gotten from all the hours I’d spent running. With a few less pounds on my frame, I was thrilled at the thought of meeting Jay’s eyes. Jay’s eyes. I couldn’t wait to see them. He was just a plane ride away, and his piercing green deep-set eyes were just were one of his many tantalizing features that I couldn’t wait to immerse myself in. At last, my excitement outweighed my nerves; or maybe I was just getting hot and bothered knowing that I was mere hours away from being in his arms.

  I waited impatiently as the passengers from Dallas/Fort Worth departed the Boeing 737 that I’d be boarding just a few minutes past the scheduled departure time. The gate adviser informed those of us leaving for New York City that we’d have to board quickly to arrive in New York on time, and I willed my fellow passengers to heed her advice. This was one date I couldn’t be late for.

  As instructed, we boarded efficiently and were in the air within fifteen minutes of entering the jetway. In my bulkhead seat I flipped through the pages of Lolita on my iPad. Despite the story's pedophilic theme, its wistful prose got me out of my own head whenever I was tense. Lolita, light of my life. Fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. He was a man possessed with his beloved. I related all too well to Professor Humbert's idealized image of the object of his obsession.

  While my body was relaxed, my mind churned with visions of what the weekend held. I pictured Jay and me wandering the streets of Manhattan, him pointing out the sights, me hopefully looking very un-touristy. We’d sit at sidewalk cafes and drink cappuccino in the mornings and spend the evenings at swanky bars sipping cocktails; he’d sensually rub my back while we laughed wildly at private jokes. The image of us hand in hand with the city as the backdrop was heavenly—so heavenly that I drifted off into a dreamless nap until we hit the ground in New York.

  Jay had instructed me to get a cab and meet him at his apartment. He apologized for not being able to get off work early enough to meet me at the airport, but I assured him that it was fine. The last thing I wanted was to inconvenience him. I waited in the long taxi line at LaGuardia and checked my e-mails for Jay’s address, near the corner of Prince and Mercer in SoHo.

  I’d only been to the airport, but I already loved the feel of New York. I hadn’t been to the city since high school, when my mother took Emily and me for a weekend of Christmas shopping. Of course, back in those days, everything looked incredible on Emily and just plain awkward on me. But the second time around, I knew I’d love the city. Watching the people, I didn't see the brazenness New Yorkers were famous for, but simply people trying to get from one place to another.

  The cab driver said we were only thirty minutes from Jay’s place, so I texted him to say I’d be there soon. It was nearly four o’clock, which was his usual quitting time on Friday afternoons. He replied with a smiley face that he’d see me shortly. I touched up my makeup and chewed gum in the car, taking in the massiveness of my surroundings. My nervousness had all but vanished, and vigor came over me instead.

  We drove past NYU and through the streets of SoHo, which were swarming with diverse people, young and middle-aged mostly. They peeked in and out of the endless shops, galleries, bars, and specialty stores. It was a hip borough that had a shoddy bar on one block and a Barney’s on the next. The diversity was refreshing. It felt as if just about anyone could fit in there, even someone like me.

  As we headed east on Prince Street, I saw the vague outline of a slender, golden-haired figure off in the distance. It
was definitely Jay. My stomach dropped at the sight of him. He'd left his white shirt untucked on purpose, and his gorgeous hair was perfectly unkempt, just how I liked it. I rolled down my window and waved to him as we drew nearer. A slight smile formed on his face, but silver-rimmed aviators hid his eyes. He flicked away and then stomped on what remained of a cigarette, then lifted his hand to greet me.

  The cab driver slowed down and told me what my fare was; I paid it, along with a giant tip. I was feeling generous. Jay opened my door, and I leaped into his arms. Of course, I scolded myself for my overzealousness. He laughed softly and hugged me, shoving his tongue in my mouth and placing his hand firmly on my rear. The kiss lasted at least thirty seconds and continued on as the cab driver wheeled my luggage around to the curb. He cleared his throat and attempted to give me change, which I told him to keep. Jay collected my suitcase and carried it for me it as we walked through SoHo, hand in hand, just as we’d done in my daydream.

  10

  “It’s really good to see you,” Jay said. “You too.” I wondered if he shared my concerns that our conversations seem to have waned in recent weeks.

  “I figured we’d grab a cocktail before we go to my place and change for dinner.” We started walking.

  “That sounds perfect.”