What Love Looks Like (14 page)

The next day I
met Ryan at his restaurant. He was in good spirits and was all smiles as,
coatless in spite of the cool weather, he loaded his car. He piled up platters
of shrimp cocktails, tenderloin sandwiches, antipasto, and cheesecake; he’d
really gone all out in an attempt to thwart any complaints from our customer to
the corporate office.

“I can’t thank
you enough for doing all of this.” I said.

        
“No
problem.”

        
“As
much as the customer is completely blowing this out of proportion, I can just
hear the sound of Penny’s voice, lecturing me about getting as much information
as humanly possible from the guest prior to arrival, and how the customer is
always right, and blah blah blah. Stuff she’d never say to you, but it’s enough
to make my stomach turn.”

Ryan laughed.
“Yeah, she’s a little shitty toward you, huh?”

“Understatement
of the century.”

Ryan and I sat
in silence for a few seconds, and I remembered the night we sang to the Beatles
together. It was such a sweet recollection that it evoked an involuntary grin
on my face. I glanced over at him and noticed that he was looking at my exposed
leg, which peeked out from my gray pencil skirt into his passenger-side
console. He must have sensed that I'd caught him looking because we made
immediate eye contact. I raised my eyebrows at him and could tell that I’d
embarrassed him. I found his self-consciousness endearing.

“Sorry,” he
said. I smiled and let it slide. “So you were sick this weekend?” He cleared
his throat.

“Oh.” I paused.
I couldn’t lie to him. We’d become friends, and he knew that I was seeing Jay.
I would have to tell him the truth. “That was just what I told Penny.”

“Oh? Where were
you really?”

“I was in New
York.” I knew he would know why. “Visiting Jay,” I added, just to clarify.

“Ah, you played
hooky.” Ryan stiffened somewhat.

“Yes. But keep
that between us.”

“Of course. So
how was it?”

“It was
incredible.” I was grateful for the opportunity to discuss Jay. So far I’d only
shared my experience with Maureen at the office and Emily when she picked me up
from the airport.

“So it’s getting
serious?” he asked.

“It looks that
way. We’re going to give it a shot.”

“That’s great.
You deserve to be happy. But what about the distance?”

“That remains to
be seen, but we’re going to try.” I said.

We made it to
the dry-cleaners’ headquarters within just a few minutes, and we each walked
two food trays to the front door. A smiling receptionist rushed to open it for
us and warmly welcomed us in. That was the wonderful thing about Columbus and
the whole Midwest; people were unbelievably friendly.

“Hi there,” Ryan
said, turning on a level of charm I wasn’t aware he possessed.

“How can I help
you?” the receptionist asked, returning to her desk and still smiling.

“We’re here to
drop off lunch,” Ryan said. The receptionist seemed to hang on his every word.
He had an almost Jay Conrad-like effect on the woman (though not quite that
caliber), and I wondered why I’d never noticed it before. Maybe it was
something he reserved only for customers. “I’m Ryan Adler, General Manager of
East Coast Prime, and this is Elle Coppola, Private Dining Manager.” I smiled
and attempted to make eye contact with her, but she was stuck on Ryan. It was
actually comical how spellbound she was.

Within moments
she led us into the boardroom where the employees eagerly awaited their free
lunch, and Ryan again turned on the charm. The mostly female staff looked
dreamy when speaking to Ryan and seemed captivated by his every word. I served
virtually no purpose because everyone was so taken with him. He handled the
entire thing beautifully. It definitely was not an appointment he needed me
for; if anything, my presence was probably doing more harm than good. I was,
however, thankful to be out of the office and to finally see what all the fuss
over Ryan was about. I’d always heard how suave he was with guests at the
restaurant, and now I was seeing it firsthand.

“So ladies,
again, we do apologize that your boss’s wife was displeased, but she graciously
granted us the opportunity to make it right by providing lunch for you today,”
he said.

“Oh don’t worry
about her, she’s just a bitch.” One lady said, prompting a few of the others to
bellow with laughter. “Nothing makes her happy. The entire night was
wonderful.” She smiled at him and winked at her girlfriend across the table.

“Well, please
enjoy it on us, and we hope to see you again next quarter.”

“We hope so
too!” one of the younger girls said, and a few of the others chuckled,
including me.

We thanked the
receptionist again on our way out and headed back to the car. “Way to turn up
the charm, Adler.” I nudged him in the arm. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

“All in a day’s
work,” he said. “Just trying to make you look good.” I smiled and rolled my
eyes at him. “Do you want to grab some lunch?”

I hadn’t
realized we’d be doing anything other than dropping off the food, but I hadn’t
eaten yet and didn’t want to go back to the office quite yet.

“How about North
Market?” I suggested, referencing the enormous indoor café/farmer’s market that
was right downtown. I knew Jenna and Ryan ate there all of the time, but I
rarely got to enjoy the delicious ethnic cuisine. I’d spent all weekend barely
eating with Jay (the guy was borderline manorexic), so I was keyed up to dig
in.

The market was
busy, and we each went in separate directions to get food from different
vendors. Ryan got a sandwich from the Italian vendor, and I had a salad from
the Mediterranean stand. We reconvened in the dining area and unwrapped our
lunches as we both sipped on sodas. What a luxury to actually eat lunch with
someone. I made a mental note to always give my workforce a generous lunch
break whenever I finally owned a company.

“Smells
delicious,” I said. My falafel and fattoush salad looked appetizing, but Ryan’s
meatball sub looked even better.

“I feel like I
need a bib.”

I laughed and
nearly spewed out my Diet Coke. The idea of the perpetually polished Ryan Adler
wearing a bib struck me as hilarious.

“Just dig
in—it’s all messy,” I said, and he smiled. “This is nice to get out of
the office. Maureen and I usually eat at our desks.”

“Are you girls
that busy?”

“Yes. Mostly
with paperwork for corporate.”

“You’ve got to
slow down and enjoy the day a little more,” he said, biting into his sandwich.

“This coming
from the guy who works seventy hours a week.”

“Good point. So
you enjoyed New York?”

        
“Very
much. It’s such an awesome city.”

        
“And
the company?” Ryan fumbled a little, and I wasn’t certain if it was due to the
topic of conversation or to his massive sandwich dripping everywhere.

        
“Let’s
just say it was a
very
good weekend.”
I winked and flashed him a smile.

        
“I
don’t want to hear any more.”

        
But
I went on to tell him anyway—not the dirtiest details, of course, but I
did tell him about the restaurants and bars that we’d gone to, thinking that
based on his career choice, he might appreciate what the New York culinary
scene had to offer.

        
While
we ate and talked, a refreshing sense of effortlessness came over me. The
conversation was natural, almost expected. From the way we moved from one topic
to another with ease, I felt as if I were lunching with a friend from college.
There was no silence or awkwardness to speak of. It felt as if I’d known Ryan
forever. There was simplicity in being with him, a simplicity that I didn’t
have with Jay. But I supposed that was what sex did to a relationship, though
it was impractical for me to speculate on relationships since it had been so
long since I’d had one. Jay was erotic, steamy, and edgy, and I loved that.
Ryan was the opposite: real, honest, and warm. And I very much liked that too.

14

 
Three
and a half weeks had gone by. Translation: I was twenty-five days closer to
seeing Jay again. Feverishly, my loins ached for his. His visit was set for the
very first weekend that we were both available, and I’d filled the days and
nights with romantic (but not cheesy) activities. Friday night would be dinner,
just the two of us at Bel Lago, which overlooked the Hoover Reservoir. And
Saturday would be a night out with my college friends, who were dying to meet
Jay after seeing his Facebook pictures and hearing about our weekend in New
York. Naturally, I was dying for them to meet him too and to finally have my
moment of glory; I'd proved that she who has the most patience is bestowed the
greatest reward.

I had to admit
that Jay and I hadn’t worked out the long-distance thing to perfection. We
communicated daily via text message, but I believed that for the relationship
to be successful we should talk on the phone daily too. I refused to be the one
to call more often—I didn’t think it would be a wise idea with a guy like
Jay, who’d emphasized his aversion to clinginess. So my resolution to phone him
only occasionally and his apparent refusal to call me every day led to only two
or three phone conversations a week.

I planned to
address the subject of phone calls with him just as soon as we’d had a few
cocktails together and I could more convincingly act as if I weren’t upset with
him; I would simply make a suggestion, based on my personal experience, that we
talk more. I had a feeling that he was clueless as to how men with girlfriends
were supposed to behave. That was okay, though, because I was more than willing
to educate him on appropriate boyfriend etiquette.

“Hello?” I said
into the phone.

        
“Hey,”
Erica said. She was confirming our plans for Saturday night.

        
“Yes,
we’re still on!” I was annoyed that she thought we would be off for any reason.

        
“I
can’t wait to meet your boy toy. Everyone’s really excited for you!”

        
“I’m
excited too. He’s great—you’ll love him.”

        
“I
can’t believe you’re in a relationship.”

        
“Well,
believe it,” I said, slightly offended.

        
“Burgundy
Room, eight o’clock?”

        
“You
got it. I’ll be the one with the arm candy.”
 

The moment I
hung up with Erica, it dawned on me that I hadn’t spoken with Jay in
forty-eight hours, and so I decided to give him a call.

        
“Hey,”
he said casually, his tone bordering on annoyance.

        
“How
was your day?” It was just days before his visit, and I had yet to go over our
plans with him.

        
“Crazy.
Work’s out of control.”

        
“I’m
sorry to hear that. Hopefully you can relax a little this weekend.”

        
“Yeah,
about that . . .” he said.

        
I
felt plunged into panic, my stomach dropping. Where was he going with that
comment? “What about it?” I asked quickly, trying to play it cool.

        
“I
might have a work thing in New York on Saturday.”

        
“
Might
? How is that possible? You never
work Saturdays.” As someone who had to fight tooth and nail for a Saturday off,
I was always conscious of those who had the luxury of work-free weekends.

        
“My
boss wants me to go to this networking thing with one of our biggest clients,
in town from Germany for the next month. Trust me, I’m not happy about it
either.”

        
“So
how definite is this?” I asked, alarmed.

        
“At
the moment it looks pretty definite.” There was only a tinge of remorse in his
voice. “I’m really sorry. I tried to get out of it. I’m still trying to.”

        
I
wasn’t convinced. “I’m so upset,” I said, unable to disguise my reaction. I
couldn’t play it cool following such disappointing news.

        
“I’m
sorry. I was so excited to see you. And to meet Lola.”

        
“Luna.”

        
“Right,
Luna. Trust me, no one is more pissed about this than I am.”

        
“I
just don’t get how they can spring this on you so last minute.”