A Love Like This (43 page)

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Mike asked
loudly. The wind off of the river was chilly, and it was whipping
the hair into my face. “You don’t seem as psyched about this gig as
I expected you to be!”

“I’m fine!” I was annoyed. I’d repeated the
lie so many times over the past week that it was starting to become
second nature. I might not be all sunshine and roses, but I’d
gotten good at keeping the dam at bay until I was alone at night in
my room. The change of scenery helped me get through the days;
there were no memories of Ryan in Paris, no pictures of us strewn
about my office. This assignment was changing that. No getting
around it.

The sun was up, but it was freezing, the sky
overcast and dreary, which would mean retouching these shots with
Photoshop when we returned to the office. I shivered and bit my lip
to try to keep my teeth from chattering. Ryan hadn’t called me back
and a week had passed since I’d arrived. I was sad, but doing the
best I could for the magazine.

Andrea and Mike had arrived a day after me,
and I told them about my idea for the New York edition for
February. Instead of bulldozing the staff, we worked alongside
them. My strategy was to bring our ideas and combine them with
theirs, and grease the cogs with some of our practiced efficiency,
rather than change the entire set-up. I wanted to create a working
relationship between the two magazines so, in the future, we could
share editorial and story ideas that could run in both editions
simultaneously. It made sense and the transition would be easier.
Besides, even if I aspired to be the hard-nosed-shark type,
emotionally, I just wasn’t up to it.

“We don’t have time to waste, Mike. We need
to email everything camera-ready today by 11 PM Paris time to meet
New York’s press deadline!”

He looked at me deadpan and rolled his eyes.
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? I know this,
Julia.”

Andrea was just arriving back from an
engraver, and she rushed up to us at a trot. “Sorry I’m late! It
turned out amazing!” Her pink-cheeked face lit up, eyes dancing and
hair blowing around her head like a red halo.

I took the box and opened it, anxious about
the contents. The heart-shaped lock and key had a gold tone
overlaid on silver so the engraving shone silver on the gold
surface. My heart stopped as I lifted it from the white tissue
paper cradling it in the box and closely examined it. It was more
beautiful than I expected it to be. I had to turn away from the
other two as my eyes flooded with tears, the names and date turning
blurry in my vision. I lifted a gloved hand under the edge of my
sunglasses and brushed the telltale tear from under each eye. I
blinked rapidly to stop more as my mouth lifted in a tremulous
smile.

“It’s perfect. I hesitate to leave it.
Someone might try to cut it off and steal it.” I glance up at
Andrea, who reached out and hugged me. I was grateful for her
silence or I would have turned into a crying mess. I tucked the key
in the pocket of my coat. “Mike, have you found the place you want
it?”

“Yeah.” He pointed to an opening where the
other locks were less decorative, so ours was the obvious focal
point of the shot. He checked the light with his pocket meter. “Put
it there.”

I handed the box back to Andrea and went to
do Mike’s bidding. He came close to me as I carefully locked it in
place. “Like this?”

He nodded and dropped his voice so only I
could hear. “You’re doing your job, but where’s my snarky boss
lady? Something going on?”

I nodded gently, carefully tying a small,
perfect bow around one of the shanks at the top. The moss green
satin was the perfect foil to the metal. My fingers lingered on the
padlock before I backed away. “Yes.” It was too much work to hide
my emotions from my friends. No one from the office was with us,
and I let my guard down. “Ryan and I are separated.”

After a beat, he was incredulous. “You’re
kidding.” His eyes bore into mine like he was having trouble
believing me. “I figured something made you high-tail it to Paris
after so many failed attempts by Meredith to get you here, but I
never thought you’d say that.” Mike slung an arm around my
shoulders and pulled me to his side with a squeeze. “Believe me; he
knows how good he’s got it. It’ll work out.”

I lifted a shoulder in the start of a shrug.
“I haven’t talked to Ryan in a week. I didn’t tell him where I was
going… or even that I was leaving.” I refused to look at Mike, both
of us ignoring the milling crowds curiously looking at the tripod
set up on the bridge.

“Holy shit. He’s gotta be hot.”

I sighed. “I know. My emotions were all over
the place, and all I wanted to do was get away. So, I did.”

“So what happens now? Will Meredith let you
go home?”

“I haven’t said anything. I told her I’d do
the job, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to leave yet. I figure I
need at least three months to do it justice.” I fiddled with the
ribbon a little more, still shivering. “It isn’t like he’s beating
down my inbox with love letters.”

Mike moved away and opened the camera case
sitting beside the tripod and placed it on top, tightening it
securely. “Obviously, I don’t know the story, but I’m sure he’s
wrecked. He’s probably just being stubborn. You know what they say:
all’s fair in love and war.”

My mind flashed to that first time Ryan made
love to me and he’d said those very words. “Yeah. If this is war,
I’ll lose and lose huge,” I repeated weakly, sadness swallowing me
up. I drew in a painful breath, grateful that the sunglasses hid my
eyes.

Mike waved Andrea into position with her
silver reflector as he honed in on the lock I’d just put in place.
He took a couple of shots with the mounted camera then removed it
from the stand and held it up to his face, moving the focus on the
lens slightly. The camera clicked off in a rapid succession as he
moved a few feet left or right, closer or farther back. He stopped
and took a few more steps back, eyeing the angles of the shot
carefully. He was a talented photographer. I enjoyed watching him
work, even though this was a still shoot.

“Julia, time for you. Take your gloves off
and reach out with your left hand.”

I did as I was told and held it while he
took the photo.

“Now… Go over there and stand about five
feet away, lean with your elbows on the rail, and look out over the
river.”

I followed the instruction, the wind blowing
my dark hair off my face.

“Take off your sunglasses, honey,” he
instructed.

“Mike, I don’t think…”

He interrupted me. “Julia, let me do my job.
Please, take off your glasses.”

“It’s stupid to have me in the picture
anyway, Mike. The story is about couples. It’s one thing to have my
hand in the pictures but…”

“I know what this is about.” One eyebrow
shot up, and he motioned for me to move with the camera. “So let’s
make sure we get the job done right, shall we?”

I was slightly put out that I was so
transparent and to someone as inherently shallow as Mike Turner.
Several clicks later, we were finished, and I was removing the
padlock and replacing it in its box, overcome with how much my
opinion of Mike had changed over the years. “You’re a really good
friend.”

We worked all evening, retouching photos and
wrapping the article around the pictures, adjusting font size and
headline depth, messing with color tones, until it was the best we
could get it. I pushed send on the file with an hour to spare.

*****

Four weeks later, after six more unanswered
text attempts and one unreturned phone call a week to Ryan, I was
starting to lose my last shred of hope. I was thinner and shaky; my
appetite replaced with nausea. Not a day passed that I didn’t cry
my eyes out at least once. Sometimes, I didn’t even bother hiding
it from Andrea or Mike. Paris had lost what little luster it had,
and I wanted to go home more than anything.

When the Valentine’s issue broke in New
York, I held my breath. My stomach fluttered and hope flickered
every time my office phone rang, but it was never Ryan. In all
these weeks, he hadn’t answered once. I finally stopped trying, no
longer willing to make a fool of myself. I tried to put on a brave
face and accept the fact that it was over, but I was completely
devastated and unsure where my life would take me now. I felt
desolate as the holiday approached, eaten alive with thoughts of
Jane worming her way closer to Ryan while we were so broken. I
walked around like a bare shell of my former self as I retreated to
my room two days before Valentine’s Day, barely making it behind
closed doors before my broken heart got the better of me, and I
fell to my knees in tears.

Andrea, Mike, and some of the staff asked me
to go to dinner, but I wasn’t up to it. I peeled off my suit and
left it lying half-assed on the sofa in the other room of the suite
and pulled on a pair of blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a
long sleeved white Henley. My head throbbed. At 5:30 it was dark,
but I still pulled the curtains closed on the window before
grabbing my phone and crawling under the covers. I didn’t bother
with the TV, and the silence in the room boomed. I lay there
missing Ryan and clutching my phone, willing it to ring. My face
crumpled, and I rolled onto my side, tears streaming from my eyes.
I let the sadness take over, crying harder than I had in weeks. I
felt lost, alone… like my world was ending, and I only had myself
to blame. Fighting with Ryan over Jane seemed better than the
alternative.

I sobbed for long minutes, letting it all
out until my nose was swollen closed. Still, I cried until I
gagged, the combination of the snot running down my throat and my
stomach heaving had me scrambling into the bathroom to throw up the
entire contents of my stomach.

I sat there, panting, wiping off my face
with a wad of toilet paper, and finally blowing my nose as hard as
I could before pulling myself up and going back to bed.

I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand
and turned on the phone. If Ryan had looked at the phone bill, he
could tell I was in Paris, yet nothing. I sighed deeply. I could
call him again, but I’d fall apart even worse if he didn’t answer,
and the days to come would be hell, always waiting. At least now, I
didn’t expect to hear from Ryan, and I didn’t obsess over it like I
did at the beginning. As much as I wanted to reach out to him, I
didn’t want to put myself back at square one.

I pressed 5, Aaron’s speed dial. I fully
expected voicemail and was surprised when he picked up.

“Yeah?” His deep voice bolted me upright.
“Julia?”

“Yeah, Aaron.”

I could hear him expel his breath in a huff,
but he was quiet, waiting for me speak. My heart flipped
uncomfortably as I struggled for what to say. “I’ve tried calling
Ryan several times over the past month, and he hasn’t returned any
of them. I just wanted to ask… Is he… is he okay, Aaron?” My voice
cracked and a tear tumbled down my cheek.

“No, he’s fucked up, Julia.”

My head fell forward and as much as I tried,
I couldn’t help crying harder.

“I’ve tried. I mean, I want to talk to
him.”

“He’s on lockdown. He works doubles; barely
calls any of us back. I’ve only heard from him twice, and I call
him every other day. Mom is so worried, she’s about ready to get on
a plane, but he doesn’t want to see any of us.” When I didn’t
respond and continued to cry, he continued. “You know I love you,
Julia, but I feel like an asshole talking to you when my brother is
so destroyed.”

My shoulders shook in silent sobs until I
gasped for breath. “I’m… I’m so scared, Aaron.”

Aaron said my name on a sigh. “Jules… I
just… how could you leave him? I don’t get any of this shit. I
don’t understand you leaving; I don’t understand him refusing to
talk to you.”

“You haven’t seen him, then?”

“I went down there right after you split.
Where are you?”

“I’m on a job for the magazine. It just
seemed like we both needed some time apart to think. We weren’t
communicating about the important stuff. Honestly, Aaron, I didn’t
think about what I was doing. I felt suffocated. Did Ryan tell you
any of it?”

“Not a lot.
He needs you
, not
me.”

A small part of my heart leapt. “I’ve tried.
I’ve even thought about going home, but I’m beginning to think he
doesn’t want me back.”

“Come, on, for Christ’s sake! Julia, listen
to yourself! Do you honestly think Ryan wouldn’t want you back?
Ever in this fucking lifetime?” His voice thundered abruptly, and I
flinched.

“A lot of things have changed, Aaron.”

“Not.
That
. You should get your ass
home.”

I wanted nothing more, but I wanted Ryan—my
Ryan—and the way we were before Jane. “I wish it were that easy.
I’m sort of locked in here for a while.”

“I guess it’s a matter of priorities, huh?
Look, I’m not going to tell Ryan we talked, because I’m not going
to get his hopes up just to have you rip his guts out again. Just…
get your shit together. If I gotta take sides on this, blood is
thicker than water. I mean, he’s not my real… you know what the
hell I mean.”

I nodded, even though he didn’t see me. “I
wouldn’t expect anything else, Aaron. I’m glad he has you, and I’ll
try to get back to New York as soon as I can, I promise. Tell Jen
hello. I love you guys.”

I wiped my eyes with a tissue and turned on
the light and my laptop, intent on searching for flights. I
couldn’t book it until I spoke with Meredith. She’d be so mad,
she’d light up the sky, but I had to try to correct my mistake with
Ryan. My phone started playing Ellie’s ringtone, and I picked it
up, happy to hear from her. I hadn’t talked to her in over a month,
so wrapped up in my own life that I didn’t think much about her and
Harris.