Only Love
Page 2
We hung up and I checked the time—quarter to eight. I took a deep breath. I ordered more wine. I glanced at the bar. Fear of Rejection was laughing out loud and tossing her hair now. The cute bartender was transfixed. For someone who’d seemed so shy, she was actually a pretty good flirt—much better than me.
But then, who wasn’t?
While I drank my second glass of wine, I paid close attention to the redhead’s body language. Maybe I’d try the hair toss later. It wouldn’t kill me to be a little more feminine, a little more flirty. Maybe if I acted more sensual around Walter, I’d feel more sensual. Maybe I’d even want to get a little closer to him.
I mean, was he God’s gift to women? No, but I wasn’t a perfect 10 either. And he was educated and successful and kind. He respected me. He’d be a good father and a supportive husband. So what if he was a little uptight and unexciting? He was a smart, safe choice. Perfect for me.
And I was a good choice too, wasn’t I? I had a graduate degree and a good reputation in my field. I was independent and never clingy. I listened to his endless bee stories. He was thirty-six already. Both of us had talked about wanting a family, so wasn’t this the next step?
Kids mean sex, Stella. Are you ready for that?
I glanced down at my blouse and spontaneously undid the top two buttons. It made me feel a little exhilarated, a little naughty. I crossed my legs and let one nude high heel dangle from my toes. I ordered a third glass of wine.
I was nearly done with it and enjoying a pretty good buzz when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Stella, I’m sorry I’m late.” Walter sat down across from me. “I got held up in traffic.”
“That’s okay.” I smiled and tossed my hair, thinking that Walter looked a little different tonight. Something about the way his tie was a bit loose, his hair a little mussed, like someone’s fingers had run through it. I’d always thought he was handsome in a clean-cut, Ivy League glee club sort of way, but tonight he actually looked kind of—dare I say it—sexy.
But also nervous. That was a good sign, right?
He cleared his throat. “So I want to talk to you about something, Stella, and I’d planned to do it after your birthday, but I’ve never been good at putting things off.”
My pulse picked up. This was it. I tipped back the rest of my wine and tried to sound sultry. “We can talk now if you want. I don’t like putting things off either.”
We were made for each other!
“Okay. Good. See, the thing is …” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There’s, uh, something I’ve been thinking about for a while now, and it might come as a shock to you, but—”
“Yes!” I burst out. I mean, he was clearly struggling for words, and it wasn’t necessary. I didn’t need the big romantic speech. Why not put him out of his misery?
Except now he was staring at me sort of strangely. “Yes?”
“Yes.” I smiled. Tossed my hair again.
His eyes flicked to the right and back to me. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Walter’s eyes widened and he started to cough. He picked up his water glass and chugged from it while I tried to ignore the alarm bell in my head.
“M-marry me?” he stuttered as he set the glass down.
“Well, yes. Isn’t that what you were trying to ask me?”
He blinked. “No. I was trying to break up with you.”
The shoe I’d been dangling fell off my foot. The room tipped. “What?”
“Stella, I—”
“Break up with me?” I froze as the room continued to tilt. This couldn’t be happening.
“Yes. You see …” His eyes dropped to the table. “I’ve met someone else.”
Oh, God.
Oh, no.
My vision clouded, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, surely there would be a classic, tasteful diamond in a little box on the table and our server would be pouring champagne as the room applauded.
Didn’t happen.
No ring, no bubbly, no applause.
Just Walter looking guilty and uncomfortable. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but—”
“How long?” I asked, humiliation drenching me like a tsunami. No wonder he’s been acting secretive and strange lately. “How long have you been seeing her?”
“It’s only really been the last few weeks. She’s a new associate professor in the social sciences department, and her office is down the hall from mine.”
A new professor. It was mid-October, which meant he’d probably met her two months ago when the semester started. “I see.”
Walter reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “Believe me, I didn’t want this to happen, and I never expected it to. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, Stella.”
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
Walter colored slightly and he let go of my hand. “But I want more. And I think you do, too. Don’t you?”
“What I want is for someone to respect me enough to be honest with me. There’s something you’re not saying. I can see it in your face. More what, Walter?”
“All right.” He looked me in the eye. “I want a physical relationship. Sex.”
My face burned. “You said we could take things slow in that department.”
“Stella, it’s been over a year.”
“Some things take time to develop.”
“I know. And I was willing to wait and see if we developed that kind of chemistry, but we never did. When I met Esther, I felt a powerful attraction immediately. She just … does something to me.”
“Oh, my God.” Humiliated, I buttoned up my blouse and fumbled around beneath the table for my shoe. I knew exactly where this was going. “It’s my fault, right? I’m cold. Unresponsive. Not sexy enough. Go ahead, you can say it.”
“I’m not here to assign blame, Stella. Things between us are simply stagnant. Boring. Beige.”
I couldn’t believe this. I’d spent countless hours listening to him talk about pollinators in peril. He was bored?
And where the fuck was my shoe?
Shoving my chair back, I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled beneath the table, mortified and hurt and praying my skirt hadn’t ridden up high enough to reveal my underwear, which was, of course, boring and beige. When I finally located my pump, I grabbed it and stood up. The shoe was beige too, which made me so mad I felt like throwing it at Walter’s head.
I happened to like beige! It was a classic, understated color and I was a classic, understated person, godammit!
“I’m sorry,” Walter said lamely, rising to his feet.
“For God’s sake, stop apologizing.” I tried to slip my heel on, but had trouble balancing on one leg. Fuck, why had I drunk all that wine? I hiccuped and hopped around awkwardly on one foot, positive that every eye in the place was on me, until finally, Walter, ever the gentleman, reached for my elbow. Rather than let him help me, I shook him off and shoved the shoe in my bag. “Goodbye, Walter. I hope you and Esther will be very happy together and have lots of red-hot sex. I am taking my beige ass home.” Hiccup.
“Maybe you shouldn’t drive.” He glanced at the empty wine glass. “Was that your second glass?”
“None of your business.” I fished some cash out of my wallet and tossed it on the table. Hiccup. “Have a nice life.”
Then, with as much dignity as I could muster, I slung my bag over my shoulder, held my head high, and walked toward the exit on one high heel and one bare foot, my head bobbing up and down like a fucking carousel horse.
Two
Stella
Outside, I called Emme.
“Can you come get me?” I asked after her breathless hello.
“Now?”
“Yes.” Hiccup.
“Are you engaged?”
“No.”
“Oh, dear. I’ll be there in a minute.”
While I waited, my cheeks flaming, my pride decimated, I imagined the story I might have told about me tonight, had I watched the scene from the outside.
But then, who wasn’t?
While I drank my second glass of wine, I paid close attention to the redhead’s body language. Maybe I’d try the hair toss later. It wouldn’t kill me to be a little more feminine, a little more flirty. Maybe if I acted more sensual around Walter, I’d feel more sensual. Maybe I’d even want to get a little closer to him.
I mean, was he God’s gift to women? No, but I wasn’t a perfect 10 either. And he was educated and successful and kind. He respected me. He’d be a good father and a supportive husband. So what if he was a little uptight and unexciting? He was a smart, safe choice. Perfect for me.
And I was a good choice too, wasn’t I? I had a graduate degree and a good reputation in my field. I was independent and never clingy. I listened to his endless bee stories. He was thirty-six already. Both of us had talked about wanting a family, so wasn’t this the next step?
Kids mean sex, Stella. Are you ready for that?
I glanced down at my blouse and spontaneously undid the top two buttons. It made me feel a little exhilarated, a little naughty. I crossed my legs and let one nude high heel dangle from my toes. I ordered a third glass of wine.
I was nearly done with it and enjoying a pretty good buzz when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Stella, I’m sorry I’m late.” Walter sat down across from me. “I got held up in traffic.”
“That’s okay.” I smiled and tossed my hair, thinking that Walter looked a little different tonight. Something about the way his tie was a bit loose, his hair a little mussed, like someone’s fingers had run through it. I’d always thought he was handsome in a clean-cut, Ivy League glee club sort of way, but tonight he actually looked kind of—dare I say it—sexy.
But also nervous. That was a good sign, right?
He cleared his throat. “So I want to talk to you about something, Stella, and I’d planned to do it after your birthday, but I’ve never been good at putting things off.”
My pulse picked up. This was it. I tipped back the rest of my wine and tried to sound sultry. “We can talk now if you want. I don’t like putting things off either.”
We were made for each other!
“Okay. Good. See, the thing is …” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There’s, uh, something I’ve been thinking about for a while now, and it might come as a shock to you, but—”
“Yes!” I burst out. I mean, he was clearly struggling for words, and it wasn’t necessary. I didn’t need the big romantic speech. Why not put him out of his misery?
Except now he was staring at me sort of strangely. “Yes?”
“Yes.” I smiled. Tossed my hair again.
His eyes flicked to the right and back to me. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Walter’s eyes widened and he started to cough. He picked up his water glass and chugged from it while I tried to ignore the alarm bell in my head.
“M-marry me?” he stuttered as he set the glass down.
“Well, yes. Isn’t that what you were trying to ask me?”
He blinked. “No. I was trying to break up with you.”
The shoe I’d been dangling fell off my foot. The room tipped. “What?”
“Stella, I—”
“Break up with me?” I froze as the room continued to tilt. This couldn’t be happening.
“Yes. You see …” His eyes dropped to the table. “I’ve met someone else.”
Oh, God.
Oh, no.
My vision clouded, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, surely there would be a classic, tasteful diamond in a little box on the table and our server would be pouring champagne as the room applauded.
Didn’t happen.
No ring, no bubbly, no applause.
Just Walter looking guilty and uncomfortable. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but—”
“How long?” I asked, humiliation drenching me like a tsunami. No wonder he’s been acting secretive and strange lately. “How long have you been seeing her?”
“It’s only really been the last few weeks. She’s a new associate professor in the social sciences department, and her office is down the hall from mine.”
A new professor. It was mid-October, which meant he’d probably met her two months ago when the semester started. “I see.”
Walter reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “Believe me, I didn’t want this to happen, and I never expected it to. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, Stella.”
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
Walter colored slightly and he let go of my hand. “But I want more. And I think you do, too. Don’t you?”
“What I want is for someone to respect me enough to be honest with me. There’s something you’re not saying. I can see it in your face. More what, Walter?”
“All right.” He looked me in the eye. “I want a physical relationship. Sex.”
My face burned. “You said we could take things slow in that department.”
“Stella, it’s been over a year.”
“Some things take time to develop.”
“I know. And I was willing to wait and see if we developed that kind of chemistry, but we never did. When I met Esther, I felt a powerful attraction immediately. She just … does something to me.”
“Oh, my God.” Humiliated, I buttoned up my blouse and fumbled around beneath the table for my shoe. I knew exactly where this was going. “It’s my fault, right? I’m cold. Unresponsive. Not sexy enough. Go ahead, you can say it.”
“I’m not here to assign blame, Stella. Things between us are simply stagnant. Boring. Beige.”
I couldn’t believe this. I’d spent countless hours listening to him talk about pollinators in peril. He was bored?
And where the fuck was my shoe?
Shoving my chair back, I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled beneath the table, mortified and hurt and praying my skirt hadn’t ridden up high enough to reveal my underwear, which was, of course, boring and beige. When I finally located my pump, I grabbed it and stood up. The shoe was beige too, which made me so mad I felt like throwing it at Walter’s head.
I happened to like beige! It was a classic, understated color and I was a classic, understated person, godammit!
“I’m sorry,” Walter said lamely, rising to his feet.
“For God’s sake, stop apologizing.” I tried to slip my heel on, but had trouble balancing on one leg. Fuck, why had I drunk all that wine? I hiccuped and hopped around awkwardly on one foot, positive that every eye in the place was on me, until finally, Walter, ever the gentleman, reached for my elbow. Rather than let him help me, I shook him off and shoved the shoe in my bag. “Goodbye, Walter. I hope you and Esther will be very happy together and have lots of red-hot sex. I am taking my beige ass home.” Hiccup.
“Maybe you shouldn’t drive.” He glanced at the empty wine glass. “Was that your second glass?”
“None of your business.” I fished some cash out of my wallet and tossed it on the table. Hiccup. “Have a nice life.”
Then, with as much dignity as I could muster, I slung my bag over my shoulder, held my head high, and walked toward the exit on one high heel and one bare foot, my head bobbing up and down like a fucking carousel horse.
Two
Stella
Outside, I called Emme.
“Can you come get me?” I asked after her breathless hello.
“Now?”
“Yes.” Hiccup.
“Are you engaged?”
“No.”
“Oh, dear. I’ll be there in a minute.”
While I waited, my cheeks flaming, my pride decimated, I imagined the story I might have told about me tonight, had I watched the scene from the outside.
