What Love Looks Like (13 page)

“Who’s your
friend?” the girl asked. She was attractive but dressed far too scantily for
the weather. Her blonde hair was boldly streaked with even blonder highlights,
and her denim skirt was so short that I could practically see what was under
it.

        
Jay
sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned back to her. I kept my mouth shut, waiting
for an introduction. “This isn’t a good time,” he said, again turning away from
her.

        
“I’m
Gina.” She spoke to me directly. She was inserting herself into our evening,
and everything about her was snide—her tone, expression, and handshake.

        
“I’m
Elle,” I said quietly, waiting for Jay to take the reins.

        
“Elle’s
my girlfriend, Gina,” he said.
Girlfriend
.
My stomach did back flips and my heart sang at the very word.

        
“Girlfriend?”
Gina cocked her head and laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

        
“Can
you leave us alone?” he asked.

        
But
Gina was relentless. “So how long have you two been seeing each other?”

        
“Um,
a couple of months,” I said shyly.

        
“Wow,
that must be a record for you, huh Jay?” She turned to him. I could smell the
liquor on her breath.

        
“Thanks
for stopping by,” he said.

        
“Good
luck to you—you’re going to need it,” Gina said to me. I was speechless.
She possessed the fury of a woman scorned. She finally removed herself, though
as she did, I heard her mutter, “
Fucking
player,
” under her breath.

        
Jay
looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, and took a sip of his cocktail.

        
“That’s
it? That’s the only response I get after an encounter like that?” I wasn’t
trying to reprimand him; I was genuinely curious as to what had happened
between him and Gina, but the left-brained, logical part of me didn’t need an
answer.

        
“She’s
someone I used to know.”

        
“You
slept with her.”

        
“Uh,
yeah.” He looked guilty and even a bit nervous.

        
I
giggled at his palpable discomfort. “It’s okay, Jay.”
 

        
“It
is?”

        
“Yeah.
It’s not like you played it like you were some virginal guy, holding out for
the right girl. I get it. You have a past. It’s all-good. This is a fresh
start.”
 

        
“God,
you’re so normal. Now when can I come visit you in Columbus?”

        
I
couldn’t help but beam at him as we plotted our next meeting, which would be in
April. I made a mental note to plan a dinner with my girlfriends so that he
could meet everyone all at once. As exciting as it was, five weeks was a long
time to go without his touch, his gaze, and of course sex. But there was always
Skype.

We got through
the rest of the night without any more ghosts of Jay’s past. After too many
cocktails, we stumbled back to his apartment and fell asleep quickly. I slept
soundly, awaking only to stare at him for a few moments in the dark, the
streets of SoHo playing as the soundtrack.

        
My
flight would leave at eleven the next morning. I slept until eight, and I
lazily awoke and stared at Jay for a few minutes. He woke shortly after, and I
pulled myself close to him, nestling into his armpit. He was chilly to the
touch, so I snuggled into him to warm us both. The sound of New Yorkers and
vehicles outside gently kept me from returning to sleep, and I silently mourned
leaving him in just a few short hours. Finally, I sat up.

        
“Stay
with me,” Jay muttered, his eyes still closed. “I need to fuck you again before
you leave.”

        
“I
don’t have time. I need to be at the airport in an hour, and I’m not even
packed.”

        
“I
need your body again.” This time he was serious. He was on top of me before I
could protest further. He licked between my thighs to lubricate me, as if I
needed it, and entered me. It felt so good that I couldn't object. It was the
first time he’d been romantic, giving me subtle kisses on the mouth as he
fucked me slowly, purposefully.

Climaxing, he
moaned, making his usual sex noises that I’d grown so fond of. “Okay, you’re
free, sexy,” he said.

        
I
scurried off to the shower, now in a hurry, though I did contemplate that
missing my flight wouldn’t be so bad. But I reminded myself that the key to
making this work probably meant leaving him wanting more. With a guy like Jay,
I’d have to calculate my every move. A voice inside me wondered,
is this really the right way to begin a
relationship?
But I silenced it automatically and focused again on packing.

I told Jay that
he didn’t have to ride with me in the taxi, and he didn’t put up a fight, much
to my disappointment. Somehow I’d have to train him on the merits of being a
gentleman and a good boyfriend. But I imagined that he’d already made some
pretty big strides that weekend. He did, however, walk me down to the street
corner and hail a taxi. It was easy to get one at the early hour. As the meter
ran, I realized it was goodbye for a while.

        
“Thank
you for everything,” I said.

        
“Thanks
for coming out.” Clearly he wasn’t great at goodbyes. I leaned in and kissed
him tightly. He held me close but released me quickly and opened my taxi door.

        
“Have
a good week,” I said. And then I felt stupid. What a lame thing to say.

        
“I’ll
see you next month, okay?” His face was calm, with little emotion. He was so
hard to gauge, and his emotions seemed to change every time the wind blew.

        
“Yeah,
that sounds great.” The lump in my throat was an unwelcome distraction and
reminded me to stop lingering and to be on my way.

        
The
driver wedged my luggage into the trunk of the taxi. I climbed into the car,
and Jay closed the door behind me, listlessly placing his open hand on the
window that separated us. I placed my palm on his through the glass and smiled.
He maintained a straight face, and seconds later the taxi sped away. I tried so
hard not to look back, but my willpower failed me. I turned to see Jay one last
time, but he was already headed in the opposite direction and had passed the
entrance to his building. His stride was so confident and purposeful that I
couldn’t help but wonder where he was headed.

13

 
Back
in Columbus, as thrilled as I was to see Luna, I was equally as depressed to
return to work on Monday. As always, Maureen was a captive audience as I described
at length the details of my romantic weekend. But I still couldn’t get my head
in the right place to actually conduct business. I had only Jay Conrad on the
brain.

 
I listened to classical music in my
office, hoping that it might soothe me and ease the withdrawal of leaving him.
If spending the weekend with Jay was the epitome of pleasure, leaving him was
the embodiment of pain. Somewhere between Penny acting as if she actually cared
how my “procedure” went over the long weekend and Jenna texting to tell me that
Ryan was pissed about something that had happened at one of my events on
Saturday night was an emptiness that even the strongest double latte couldn’t
fill.

“Elle Coppola
speaking,” I said, answering a call that Maureen had transferred to my private
line. I was wearing my headset, which made me feel like a glorified switchboard
operator. But I knew I’d have a whole slew of calls to make following a Friday
out of the office.

        
“Hey,
it’s me,” Ryan’s voice said curtly over the phone. Momentarily, I felt
relieved. His was a familiar voice, and one I now looked forward to hearing on
the other end.

        
“Hey,
you,” I said, giving him my full attention.

        
“Hi.”
He cleared his throat. He was being petulant again.

        
“What
can I do for you?”

        
“We
had a little problem Saturday night.”

        
He
was referring to a dinner for a dry-cleaning company that was rewarding its
staff for a profitable first quarter. I’d planned the event, but obviously
wasn’t there to oversee it person, as I was in the throes of passion all
weekend.

        
"What
happened?" I asked.

        
“The
owner of the company apparently has a wife with a bunch of dietary issues, and
that wasn’t noted on the private event contract. So when the server was taking
orders and didn’t know ahead of time that there was a macrobiotic vegan in
attendance, she threw a shit fit.”

        
“You’ve
got to be kidding me. Over
that
?”

        
“Yeah.
Obviously a housewife with nothing better to do than call me bitching about
this on a Monday morning. So I told her that you and I would bring lunch to her
husband’s staff tomorrow to try and make up for our error. And that appeased
her.”

        
“Way
to save the day, Ryan.” I said. “But we don’t do outside catering, remember?”

        
“Well,
we do now—for her anyway. I don’t want her calling corporate and getting
you in trouble.” That was nice; petulance aside, Ryan had my back.

        
“Ugh—reality
is setting in. Macrobiotic vegans? Seriously?”

        
“Huh?”

        
“Oh,
sorry. After the weekend I had, I’m finding being back at work today rather
challenging.”

        
“Oh
yeah, you were sick, right?” He was showing a certain softness for the first
time. “You okay?”

        
“Yeah,
I’m fine. Thanks,” I said. His concern made me smile. “So I guess I’ll be at
the restaurant tomorrow at eleven, and we can head over to their headquarters
and try and smooth everything over.”

        
“Great.”
 

        
“Thanks
for covering for me.”

        
“Anytime.”
He abruptly hung up the phone.

        
Morning
quickly became afternoon. For once I was relieved about the mountain of work I
had because it made the time pass by quickly. It was also one day fewer between
Jay’s and my next reunion. He texted me throughout day, and I was doing my best
to respond only to every three messages, so as not to seem too eager. Our
conversation was something to the tune of this:

        
Jay:
This weekend was crazy

        
Jay:
Don’t you agree?

        
Me:
Crazy how?

        
Jay:
Crazy hot, I like the way you fuck

        
Jay:
Actually I like the way you do a lot of
things

        
Jay:
Like the face you make when you come

        
Me:
You’re making me blush

        
Jay:
You’re so innocent, I love it

        
Jay:
I can’t wait to see you again

        
Me:
I can’t wait either, I had an awesome
time, and ps, I like the way you fuck too

I almost died
from saying something so vulgar. Had my mother witnessed my slutty messages,
she would have surely disowned me. But I had to swallow my pride to keep him
interested. Even his text messages sent me into arousal and made me flush with
embarrassment. The afternoon flew by as I completed what felt like hundreds of
minuscule tasks that I hadn't been there to do the Friday before. I rushed out
of the office at six on the dot to get home to Luna, whom I worried was
starting to forget me.

I spent the
night catching up on recorded TV, annoyed that Jay didn’t phone me until nine
o’clock. He called to say his day had been hectic and that he missed me and
hoped I slept well. It was a brief conversation, but it was better than no
phone call at all. At his suggestion, I did sleep well for a change, without
alcohol interfering with my rest or affecting how I felt when I woke up. The
downside was that after my weekend with Jay, the night felt excruciatingly
lonely.