What Love Looks Like (3 page)

“Hey, how’d it go
last night?” Jenna asked. She was no doubt hoping for the details of a
salacious hookup.

“Hi, Jen.” I grasped
my color-coded stack of folders; each folder contained information for the
following week’s events at the restaurant. I took a seat next to her at the
elegant bar. I always found it ironic that I conducted work meetings in a place
where people got drunk, celebrated milestones, and fell in love. It was the
story of my life.

“So? How did it go?”
Jenna asked again.

“Nothing happened. We
had a drink and then went home.” I was lying, again out of disgrace. “I’m here
to go over next week with you.”

She rolled her eyes
and glanced down at the event calendar for the upcoming month. “Damn, you’ve
been busy. This is a pretty eventful week for this time of year.”
        

“Businesses have new
budgets out and know how they want to allocate their funds for the year, so dinner
meetings should start really picking up now. And some of this is just holiday
overflow. Certain companies are busier during the holidays, so they hold their
Christmas dinners after New Year’s.” Suddenly, I felt nostalgic for the
holidays.

“What’s wrong?” Jenna
asked. She must have seen a subtle shift in me.

“I’m just sad it’s
over.”

“New Year's? It’s,
like, the worst night of the year for us.”

“No, Christmas. I
love it. It’s my favorite time of year.”
   

“But you complained
that you were lonely for the entire month of December,” Jenna said. How
embarrassing.

“Well I got through
it. I had Luna.”

Jenna smiled, a rare
display of warmth for her. “You need to date more.”

“What’s the point? Do
you know how hard it is to actually find a stand-up guy anymore?”

“There’s no way for
you to know who's a stand-up guy and who’s not because you give every guy you
meet the cold shoulder.”

I wouldn’t tell her
that I'd given a lot more than my shoulder to one-night-stand-Josh, but I saw
her point nonetheless. I was becoming increasingly pickier the older I got.
“Let’s talk events,” I said.

“Wait, shouldn’t we
get Ryan to go over this with us?”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess we
should.”

Ryan Adler was the
general manager of the restaurant, and a favorite of both Penny and the corporate
bosses. Jenna was fond of him too, but I didn’t know him well enough to share
everyone's adoration. He was in charge of all restaurant operations, and
everyone knew that he did his job well. In fact, I’d heard from several sources
that he was the highest-paid manager in the whole company.

Even though Ryan
didn’t actually execute my events (he reserved that task for Jenna), due to his
position he had to be aware of all banquets that took place in his restaurant,
and he had to be present for the read-through each week. His service staff
spoke highly of him, but I perceived him as cold and standoffish. He had tunnel
vision about the restaurant. He’d never argued with me; in fact, he was
actually kind of a gentleman. He was the type who always got the door for a
woman (no matter her age or physical appearance), and whenever it rained he’d
walk guests to their cars with an umbrella. But good manners alone didn’t earn
him the title of Mr. Congeniality.

Jenna went to the
kitchen and reemerged with Ryan, who walked back to the front with her, his
eyes scanning the bar area for imperfections. He wiped a microscopic speck of
dust off of a handrail, shaking his head in disapproval as he marched through
the dining room. He would have had a field day in my apartment.

“Hello, Elle.” He
nodded and made about a tenth of a second’s worth of eye contact.

“Hi, Ryan.” I tried
to sound in good spirits without coming across as ditzy. I had always been
convinced that I could kill him with kindness and get him to come out of his
shell, but it never worked. “Busy week next week!” I spoke a bit too
cheerfully.

“I see
that—nice work.” He made momentary eye contact with me. He had large
wide-set brown eyes that penetrated those of everyone he spoke to. Ryan was
tall, well over six feet, and had an imposing, brawny build. His stature was
commanding. He had an almost militant air to him, as if he were the kind of guy
who would never lose a fight. But he was probably too calm and collected to
ever get into one. “Show us what you’ve got,” he said.

I immediately began
reciting my banquet details, and Ryan and Jenna listened as I described at
length every event for the following week. The read-through usually lasted an
hour, and I always felt Ryan getting fidgety near the halfway mark, as if he
had somewhere better to be. Jenna took notes while Ryan sat across from me
tapping his finger impatiently on the bar. When I finished, he quickly got up,
thanked me, and left.

“Friendly, isn’t he?”
I said sarcastically to Jenna.

“You don’t see him
often enough to understand his personality. He’s a great boss; he’s just very
efficient when he’s on the clock. He’s a totally different guy outside of work.
If you ever hung out with us after our shifts you’d see. But your lame ass is
always in bed by ten.”

        
“That’s
because I’m in the office by seven fifteen.” I gathered my event folders.

Jenna rolled her eyes
again. “Brunch on Sunday, right? How about Union at eleven? I already told
Nolan I was skipping lunch with his parents so I could get my shop on.”

“It’s a date. I need
it bad,” I said. There was nothing quite like the rush of hunting for a new
addition to my closet. But I knew I gave shopping entirely too much glory.
Sometimes after getting new clothes I felt as if everything was right in the world.
And then inevitably, I’d wear them and realize that it wasn’t.

I headed out the back
of the restaurant and into my snow-covered car. My apartment was just one block
from East Coast Prime, which was both a good and a bad thing—bad because
I often felt as if I should walk over and check on my events even on my days
off, but good because when I did my read-through in the late afternoon, Maureen
put my calls into voice mail and I got home at five instead of my usual six
thirty or seven.

I moved my car into
the garage below the building and rushed upstairs to the second floor. As I
turned the key to my door, I heard high-pitched squeals from the other side.
Luna bounded up into my arms and licked me intensely as, through my laughter. I
tried to fasten her leash to the collar around her tiny white neck. The rest of
her body was black, apart from a white strip of fur between her eyes and little
white ‘fur socks’ around all four of her paws. As a Terrier-Chihuahua mix, she
was a highly energetic lap dog who licked me so much that I often wondered how
her tongue didn’t get sore. I still felt guilty for whatever atrocities she'd
witnessed the previous night, and I prayed that dogs ignored humans having sex.

Luna was the most
loyal companion I’d ever had. She demonstrated her love for most everyone she
met, and when she didn’t take kindly to a new person, I knew right away that I
should be suspicious. Aside from her psychic ability, she was also the main
source of happiness in my life. Never had I met anyone who was consistently
overjoyed at the mere sight of me. She was thankful for every head scratch,
morsel of food, and ounce of affection I gave her.

Once we reached the
park, I let her off of her leash to run around with the other dogs. It was cold
out, but I didn’t mind. Seeing Luna excited always raised my spirits. Back
upstairs, I dished out Luna’s kibble and then considered what I should feed
myself. Takeout sounded easiest, but I had to be economical. I decided instead
on baby carrots with an entire container of hummus, followed by what afterward
felt like a pound of chocolate drops I'd bought at Whole Foods, elegantly
paired with the remains of a bottle of Shiraz. I stuffed myself far beyond the
point of satisfaction, and in so doing maintained my self-proclaimed title of
reigning queen of eater’s remorse. In fact, I was the queen of all sorts of
remorse (buyer’s remorse, one-night-stand remorse, and so forth).

One of the many things I missed about living with roommates was that I
now had complete freedom to throw self-control to the winds. When I lived with
Erica, Stacey, and the other girls, I would restrain myself based solely on my
fear of being judged for my inability to do things moderately. But living alone
led to boredom, which meant my mind was left to its own devices. Something had
to fill the time between one workday and the next. Luna didn’t judge me for any
of my pleasure-seeking ways, so I indulged in whatever I pleased. But lately, I
couldn’t shake an omnipresent fear that such continuous overindulgence might
come back and bite me.

3

 
A week later I was in my office frantically
fine-turning the details for a buyout lunch meeting at Ryan’s restaurant. Jenna
had the day off, so Ryan would have to oversee the event personally. That meant
there was zero room for error. Earlier that morning, I'd called the chef to
check on inventory and discovered that we were short on meat. That meant that
before the luncheon I had to speed out to the suburbs to borrow ten chicken
breasts and ten petite filets from our Dublin location, just to make sure we
had more than enough product for the roughly two-hundred-person event.

By the time I got
downtown, I was thoroughly flustered, but rushing from one task to another is
all in a day’s work for any worthwhile event planner. I parked in the rear lot
of the restaurant, since the front entrance was on a busy city street with no
available parking spots. I buzzed the door to be let into the kitchen, and Ryan
appeared, holding the door for me as I hurried inside. My hands were frozen
because I’d forgotten my gloves at home that day, and my hair was damp from the
soggy snowfall. I knew I looked a fright, but only Ryan was there, and I wasn’t
worried about impressing him.

“Morning, Ryan.” I
rushed in past him. We were uncomfortably close as I squeezed through the rear
entrance with a package of raw meat in hand.

“Elle,” Ryan said,
nodding.

“Has anyone from
EZware arrived yet?”

“Yes, one gentleman
arrived already. I think he stepped outside for a moment. I told him that you
were running late.” Ryan raised his eyebrows at me as if it was his job to call
me out on my tardiness. “I had them set everything up last night, so we should
be good to go. Food’s all prepped, and we set for an extra twenty people just
in case.”

“You’re on the ball.
Here’s your extra meat.” I handed him the raw chicken and steak.

“Uh, thanks,” Ryan replied unenthusiastically.

He headed for his office, and I followed. I hung my coat next to his
as I always did and then quickly fixed my messy hair in front of the mirror
that someone had hung in the office, probably Jenna. I made no effort to
communicate with Ryan even though we were the only two people in an
eight-by-ten-foot space. He looked immersed in his accounting work, so I didn’t
want to distract him by making small talk. He looked frustrated as he gaped at
three open spreadsheets on his desktop; I assumed that he too was inundated
with reporting for corporate.

 
I left his office
silently and walked quickly through the kitchen, waving to the line cooks as I
passed, and then hurried out into the main dining room. Maureen would be
meeting me there within the hour. Scores of local business owners were going to
be in attendance, so we decided to network and personally greet everyone who
came through our doors. We were
always
looking to drum up extra
business. As much as I complained about my company, I had to credit them for
making me forever conscious of new business opportunities.

At the front
entrance, I glanced down at the restaurant’s reservation book to see if any of
my regular customers would be in that evening. As I read each name and tried to
pair it with a face, I felt a gust of wind blow through the revolving door. I
hadn’t realized that it was so bone-chillingly cold outside. I looked up, and
instantly my eyes met an exceptionally good-looking man wearing a gray fitted
sport coat and matching slim gray trousers. He was the opposite of the balding,
beer-bellied salesman I’d expected. His suit was tailored flawlessly to his
slender form. He was young, maybe my age or slightly older, with a full head of
hair that cascaded into golden waves around his tanned face. His bone structure
was sculpted as though Michelangelo had personally chiseled his features. Above
his high cheekbones were vibrant green eyes with a cutting gaze. He was average
in height, maybe two or three inches taller than I was, and he exuded coolness
before he even uttered a word.

The scent of his
cologne wafted in my direction with the wind that accompanied him in. And with
that same blast of air, I detected the subtle scent of cigarettes. The smell
didn’t bother me, though; it fit his type. I felt goose bumps form all over my
body even before he spoke. He carried a stylish-looking black briefcase.
Everything about him was intriguing. He extended a hand to me, but dizzy from
his energy, I could barely pay attention to his words.

“Jay Conrad,” he
said.

“I’m Elle Coppola,” I
willed the flush in my cheeks to dissipate. “Are you hosting the meeting
today?”

“Yes, I am.” He
nodded.

“Well, welcome,” I
said overenthusiastically. “Is this your first time in Columbus? Did you have
to travel far? Can I take your coat?” I was already kicking myself for asking
him so many questions. I had always made it my practice
not
to seem
overly interested in men, but he had completely thrown off my equilibrium.

“No, actually I’ve
been here before. I used to visit friends at Ohio State back in college.” He
was probably unsure which of my questions to answer first.

“Oh? And where did
you go to school? When did you graduate?”
Stop.
Asking. Questions
, I told myself. I couldn’t help it. I wanted—no, I
needed
—to know everything about
Jay Conrad.

“I went to a small
Catholic college in Pennsylvania called Franciscan University. Have you heard
of it?”

“Of course,” I said,
lying. What a pointless thing to lie about. I was bombing, and to top off my
humiliation, I couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. I’d never before had such a
profound longing to maintain eye contact with someone. My logic told me to look
away, but he didn’t, so I didn’t either.

“I live in New York
now,” he said.

“I haven’t been to
New York in years.”

“It’s the
best—you’ve got to get back. And soon.” Was that an invitation? My mind
wandered to all of the things I could do with him (or to him) for a few days in
New York City.

“Can I take your
luggage?” I asked, snapping back to the present.

“Yeah, is there
somewhere you can store it for me?”

“Sure, I’ll put it
behind the bar.” I took his suitcase. I spotted a pack of Parliament Lights
tucked into the side pocket. “We’re closed to the public for lunch, so it’ll be
safe there. We only open for private events during the day.”

“So I take it you’re
the event planner?”

“Yes, I am, here and
a few other locations as well.”

“It’s nice,” he said,
looking around approvingly.

“Well, coming from a
New Yorker, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
 

Jay smiled, and I
felt my heart rate increase from my state of hyperarousal.

I led him to the
private room that he’d be using for his presentation and went over a few
last-minute details about the meeting as calmly as I could. All the while I
stared at him for far too long and asked him entirely too many personal
questions. I had to get away from him to regain some semblance of sanity. I was
drawn to Jay Conrad, but apart from his appearance, what was pulling me in?
Something in his manner held me in his grasp, drawing in my energy like a
vortex. I’d known loads of handsome men before and was easily able to turn the
other cheek. But with Jay Conrad, a force greater than me was in control. In
the way that the moon couldn’t help but orbit the Earth, I couldn’t help but be
drawn to Jay. It wasn’t just his physical perfection; it was his entire air. It
was a gravitational pull.

I watched for a
moment as he silently prepared his meeting notes and then finally summoned the
strength to excuse myself. I headed back into the kitchen, careful not to
tumble in my cobalt Donald J. Pliner pumps, which I was thrilled to have worn
since they elongated my legs quite nicely. What a relief that I’d changed out
of my Hunter rain boots in the car.

I heard the rear
entrance buzzer—saved by the bell. I beat Ryan to the back door and
opened it. In walked Maureen, prompt as usual.

“Hey honey, how’s it
going?” she asked cheerfully, her enormous mommy purse in tow.

“I think I’m in love
with the EZware rep.”

        
“Guy
or girl?”

        
“What?”
I asked. “A guy!”

        
“Where
is he? I want to see him.”

        
I
walked her to the kitchen and pointed him out to her from over the hot line.
Jay paced back and forth in front of the large projection screen that we’d set
up for him, shuffling his papers, obviously rehearsing for his presentation.

“Wow, he
is
good-looking.” Maureen agreed.

        
“He’s
hot. But it’s more than that.”

        
“Did
you introduce yourself?”
 

        
“Yeah,
we talked a little. In fact, I couldn’t stop talking. I was totally into it.”

        
“Totally
into what?” Ryan asked, appearing behind us.

“Oh I’m
totally
into the way you set up the
tables. Good job, Ryan.” I patted him on the arm as he went through the
swinging door into the dining room. Maureen suppressed laughter, and Ryan
looked back at me, obviously confused or maybe a bit embarrassed; as usual, he
was impossible to read.

Desperately longing
to talk with Jay once more, I dragged Maureen by the arm toward the podium as
he continued reviewing for his meeting. I felt instantly invigorated just by
being nearer to him. He was my Edward Cullen, my Christian Grey. The very
thought of him stupefied me. I didn’t know if he could tell how smitten I was,
but there was little chance that I’d be able to hide such a powerful
attraction. “Jay, this is my partner Maureen.”

“Oh, hey Maureen,
nice to meet you,” Jay said sweetly, taking Maureen’s hand and shaking it
purposefully. Okay, the guy had manners. Check. He was gorgeous. Check. What
more could a girl ask for?

“Nice to meet you
too. Everything look okay in here for you, Jay?” Maureen asked, smiling. I
could tell immediately that she was impaired by his charm.

“Everything’s
perfect—Elle’s been taking good care of me,” he said, and I blushed.

Maureen beamed at
him. “We’ll greet your guests for you and then escort them to their seats.”
Thankfully, she was taking the reins since I was mentally incapacitated. “We
don’t have a hostess on staff during the day, but Elle and I are glad to help
in
any
way you need. Any way at all.” I discreetly pinched her arm to
reprimand her for the sexual innuendo.

“That’ll be great,
thank you,” Jay said.

        
I
stumbled back into the kitchen, still disoriented, and Maureen followed. I
poured us each a cup of coffee.

        
“He’s
hot
,” I said again once we were
alone.

        
“So
is this coffee.” Maureen spit it out back into her cup.

        
“I
don’t know what’s gotten into me. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy.”

“You
just
met him!”

        
“I
don’t care. I’m so drawn to him.”

“There is something
kind of magnetic about him. I don’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s his
hair. He looks like a Greek god. You should see what he’s doing tonight. You
live practically right next door to this place, so you could leave the office
early and meet him for a drink!”

“Maureen, I would
never
ask a guy out. Ever.”

        
“Why
not?”

        
“That’s
not how it’s supposed to happen.”

        
“I
asked out my husband when we first met.”

        
“Well
that’s one exception in a million,” I said, not wanting to insult her.
“Besides, you’re a lot more outgoing than I am. If I tried to ask him out, I’d
crash and burn.
Trust
me, it wouldn’t be pretty.”

“You have to figure
out a way to give him your phone number, then. How often do you feel this way
about guys you meet?”
    

“Uh, never.”

“Exactly.”
 

        
I
saw her point. I was perpetually waiting for someone to come and sweep me off
my feet, but never once had I initiated a relationship or asked someone out on
a date. But I couldn’t figure out how to gather enough nerve to ask out someone
as gorgeous as Jay.

        
“If
he wants my number, he can ask for it.” I was both doubting my own appeal and
maintaining the conviction that I'd inherited from my mother and grandmother:
women shouldn’t ask men out on dates, even if they were nearing
thirty—no, wait—
especially
if they were nearing thirty.