His Perfect Woman (Urban Hearts Series Book 1) (22 page)

They ordered an appetizer—the spinach artichoke dip, but the waiter couldn’t get away without Mal grilling him about the contents. Were there onions in the spinach artichoke dip? No, just spinach and cheese and artichokes. He rolled his eyes. Oh, that’s too bad because onions really brought out the flavor, Mal’s reply was delivered with just the right amount of sarcasm and Az clamped her hand over her mouth to cover a laugh. Through gritted teeth, he asked if they needed anything else.  Malinda winked at him. He stormed off.

“Great, he’s probably going to spit in our dip now.” Az told her.

“Nonsense, he’s into me. He likes dominant women, I can tell.”

“Oh, well then.  He wouldn’t dare try anything.”

Malinda supplied her usual eyebrow waggle with wide-eyed innocence and sipped her drink, smacking her lips together meaningfully. Az stirred the ice cubes in her glass with the plastic sword.

“Something’s up. What happened? ” she asked.

Az looked around the bar before answering. It was starting to fill up, the sports crowd wandering in, lining up in front of the TV screens. Their waiter glowered at them from his place at the drink station.

“I got a letter from Ross.”

Mal was flabbergasted—simply gobsmacked. She stopped drinking, smirking, and flirting with their waiter from across the room.

“Really? A real letter, not an email? Not a text message? Like, on paper and everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, so…what did it say?”

“Um, it was kind of a love letter.”

“Well, toss the big caber, as my Nana would say. After all this time? It’s been like what? Nine or ten months? Since you’ve seen him?”

“Almost a year.”

“See? This is why people don’t use snail mail anymore. It really does take forever to communicate.”

“Mal, he just wrote it. It wasn’t lost or anything. The post mark said...”

She hesitated. If she told her the postmark date Mal would know she’d had the thing for more than a week. Then of course she’d have to listen to her carry on about keeping shit from her. Azure was going to need another drink. Fortunately their surly friend arrived bearing green food with no onions and she ordered another round. They dug into the pita chips and Malinda ignored her non-answer of the postmark date. Finally, Mal’s appetite was satisfied enough to continue the conversation.

“I don’t suppose you want to share the juicy bits?” She crunched a spinach laden chip.

“Not really. It was very sweet though. He kind of goes through everything about our meeting and how much it meant to him and that... that he hopes I’m happy.”

“Wow, a love letter from a married guy. That takes some balls.”

“That’s just it Mal, I don’t think he is married. I mean, I don’t know for sure. But the letter’s not from California. It’s from Chicago. Recently.”

“So he didn’t leave, he may not be married, but he doesn’t come out and say that, does he? Way to be obtuse. Men—why do we put up with this shit?”

“Tantric sex?”

“Oh, yeah.” The waiter arrived just in time to overhear the conversation. Mal didn’t bat an eye or conjure a hint of embarrassment as she side-looked him.  “Well, you got me there.” He lingered just a fraction after placing the new drinks down. “Thanks, Hon,” she said.

“My name’s Jared.” And he actually smiled at them. Az was amazed at the transformation.

“Of course it is. Thank you, Jared.” Mal’s voice held a hint of Karma Sutra knowledge. Jared’s eyes closed in a slow blink, soaking up the words. Both women watched him leave. Mal shifted her focus back to Az.

“So, you’re calling him, right? Or writing?”

“I haven’t thought about it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ok, yes, thought about it, but actually looking up a number? No.  I’m just getting back to normal. I don’t want to go through it all again.”

And this was the whole thing, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to go through it all again. The previous year had been a whirlwind of giddy anticipation and heartache. There were moments when Ross Berenger loomed so large on her horizon she knew he was the love of her life—that she’d never find anyone so perfect for her. Other times, guilt weighed on her like depression for letting her desire take over her sense of right and wrong—and then she was bereft at the loss of something she never actually had. Her psyche needed the rest. Malinda, as usual, asked the question she’d been asking herself.

“Why did it take him so long?”

Azure had no answer and because she had no answer, she changed the subject to Eli. They drank and ate and discussed details of the upcoming trip. Sometimes, Az envied Mal her free spirited lifestyle. Making her living as a photographer/blogger, she had a following of diehard fans for her site, which provided a small stipend from advertizing. Occasionally she’d sell a photo and then lavish in short-lived luxury until it was all spent. But Mal was never a nine-to-five type of person and her casual acceptance of unsteady income had helped Azure take that step as well. With a great deal of trepidation, she’d quit the security of a steady paycheck to try running her own business, using her planning skills for weddings rather than corporate seminars.

She’d always admired Ross’s courage to go it alone and develop his own consulting business—seems he’d done it again with writing. Now, more than ever, Az realized how much nerve it took to take that kind of chances.

Mal did that every day, in her career and her relationships, and so far, it seemed to work for her. Az wondered if she could ever take the same kind of leap in her own love life. Jared had arrived to clear the plates and Mal engaged him in another conversation, this time on a personal level. By the time he left, they’d exchanged phone numbers.

“What about Barry?” Az wondered.

“Barry is fine, but… we’re not serious. Not at all.”

“I don’t recall you being serious about anyone, Mal.”

“Time enough for that. A girl just wants to have fun, you know?”

“Okay, Cyndi Lauper. Have your fun. I’ll live vicariously through you.”

“If you’d just call the love letter guy, you wouldn’t have to. Go on. Grab some of that salty goodness for yourself. Write him back.”

Az licked the rest of the salt from her second Margarita and said nothing.

A-6

Azure walked out of the floral designs shop on Pearl St. on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. Eli and Mal had left two days before and she missed them already.

She’d dropped them off at the airport, giving her friend last minute instructions as she held her son’s hand.

“Things will be fine.” Mal said. “Jonathan and I will tolerate each other for the scant moments we have to be in each other’s presence. Then I’m off to my little Nana’s house and you,” she pointed at Eli “will have a great time at your da’s right?”

“Right,” affirmed Eli, but his eyes flickered and Azure held him to her.

“Don’t worry, you can call me anytime and we can Skype too. Okay? You’ll be back before you know it.” She wondered if her words were more for herself than her son.

“And don’t forget that meeting I set up.” Mal said casually, “That bookstore owner will skin me alive if you miss it. She’s really busy.” 

“Don’t worry I have it in my phone. I’m headed to Boulder tomorrow.”

“Good.” Mal hugged her.

“Thanks for doing this.” Az murmured to her.

“Don’t thank me yet.” She winked. “The best is yet to come.” With those cryptic words, Mal and Eli made their way through security.

Two days later, she was shielding her eyes against the sunlight and glancing to the West, noticing the grey clouds gathered at the tips of Boulder’s distinctive mountains, The Flatirons. Boulder’s outdoor mall was crowded with college kids and shoppers as she headed west to stop at the book store Mal had told her about. She was five minutes late for her appointment with the owner and rushing in the door when she turned to her left and saw him.

Ross Berenger—or rather a picture of him was beckoning her for a closer look into the interior of the book store. His face was a little older, with more creases around the eyes. His previous clean cut look had been replaced by trendy manly stubble across his jaw as his picture grinned back at her. It wasn’t his real smile. It was the public one, the one reserved for audience questions and book jackets.

The poster announced his book signing that day at 4:30. Azure checked her phone to make sure she was at the right address, realizing that it was highly doubtful there ever was a meeting with the bookstore owner.

Damn Malinda Patrick, couldn’t she leave well enough alone?  Azure could leave, she supposed, but thought about those words on the page that fed her soul and kept her going—his words from the letter. Something about random events colliding and how wise it is to listen to such things.

Opening the door, she made her way to the back of the store. His voice immediately drew her to a crowd of about thirty people, mostly women of course. About twelve or thirteen chairs were occupied and a small crowd had gathered behind them, politely listening to his latest answer to an audience question. Azure tried to be inconspicuous by positioning herself just behind a round rack of travel books.

She recognized his smile again, the public one and even so, her heart rate increased. She took a couple deep breaths to calm it.

His eyes found her and widened, just a fraction. She could see his throat moving as he swallowed and he faltered in his words, but only a second. He cleared his throat and continued, never taking his eyes from her, as though she would run if he looked away. She did think about it. 

“Any more questions?”  He smiled again, this time it was the real one. The Ross smile when he wasn’t in front of people and it was for her. Only for her, she was sure of it. No one spoke up and the bookstore owner took the lectern to talk about where he was signing books.

Azure stepped back as she saw him coming through the crowd, directly at her. 

“Hi,” he said. And the smile widened across his face, crinkling his eyes in the most familiar way. This was the man in her dreams. 

“Hey.” She fidgeted, but couldn’t take her eyes away. He looked different—older and more cynical—it made her sad. His hair was longer and touch-ably styled off to one side instead of gelled up. His jaw line was faintly obscured by a light scruff—same as his picture, with those familiar eyes glinting at her in such a way they took her breath.  “I…ah…you look good, ” she said.

“You too. Actually you look…” he fumbled for words.

“Stunning?” She smiled a little wickedly, but it faded at his serious look. “I mean, well, you were searching for a word.”

He dropped his gaze, but the smile flashed again, a trifle shyer this time.

“Smartass, yeah, that’s a perfect word, I can even tell you all the synonyms.” He paused, oblivious to the women in the small crowd around them, not noticing the owner, just off to the side, waiting for him to follow her to the signing table. “So you got it then, the letter.”

“I did. You write very well, Mr. Berenger.”

“Oh, doesn’t he?” The voice behind her was breathless and saccharine sweet. She turned to see a red head not much older than herself gazing at him with fan-girl adoration. Some things never change.  He smiled at her and looked at the woman, and then around, noticing they were surrounded.

Why were these women just standing here watching them? Az wanted them all to go away—wanting to tell the redhead, tell all of them—hey ladies, there’s a sale at Macy’s just down the road. Better get cracking.

“Um, I’m signing some books for a while but… can you wait?” His hand reached out then and barely touched her shoulder. “Maybe, I’d like to talk if—”

“Sure. Yeah, we should talk. And I should buy a book.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. It’s your take on how to live your best life and make a boat load of money, right?” She smiled again. He smiled back.

“You remember.”

“This way, Ross.” The slightly dumpy owner failed to hide her disapproval at his delay.

“I remember everything,” she said. He flashed another smile prior to downing half a bottle of water and sitting down to work.

Azure tried to browse while she waited. The wait seemed interminable while he signed copy after copy, smiling and chatting with young women, middle aged women, grandmothers, a few guys. She was happy that his book was doing well and somewhat proud of the fact that she knew him. But it took forever for the line to thin out, for the last copy to be signed so he was free and she’d found herself simply standing just to the side of the table like some groupie. He thanked the book store owner graciously and the clouds were just hovering into the twilight by the time they found themselves on the street. The outdoor performers were in full force despite the wind kicking up, bringing cooler air along with it. Kids thronged the pizza place next door.

“Are you hungry? We could eat?” he asked.

“Sure, we could eat.” She looked around, deciding that waiting in line with the college crowd for pizza did not appeal to her.  “We’ll probably have to wait for a table, but Charlie’s serves really good chicken fried steak. It’s just down the block.”

“Sounds good.”  They fell into step for the half block. Soon they were crammed inside a noisy bar, waiting for drinks and a table. Ross ordered two beers and they stood side by side at the bar, and slowly, almost without her knowing it, his hand slipped into hers.

They said nothing for a long while, just watched the crowd yelling at the TV, but she watched everything about him. The way he smiled at the bartender, peeling off a ten out of a silver money clip and handing it over. His hand edging back into hers like it belonged. How he sipped his beer, eyes closing and then opening again to watch her watch him.

“Jack told me you do wedding planning now.” He sipped at his beer.

“Yeah. It’s been quite good, actually. How’s Jack?”

“He’s good. He’s Jack. He’s got a kid now.”

She nodded and smiled to herself. “I met his wife, Sienna?” She couldn’t quite remember. Ross nodded.

“A baby girl, Edith.”

“Edith?”  She asked. Ross shrugged.

“Sienna likes Edith Wharton.”

“Better than George Eliot, I guess.”

“I’m glad to see you.” He changed the subject abruptly, as though to catch her unawares. It seemed to work and took a while for her to answer.

“This...my being here is through the sneaky efforts of my friend Malinda. I had no idea you were in Colorado.”

“Remind me to thank her if I ever meet her.” He smiled again.

“You might—meet her that is, if I don’t kill her first.  She’s safely tucked away in Europe now. She took Eli to see his dad.”

“So you’re on your own for a while.” And it took a moment for her to get his meaning. That he knew she was divorced, and if her son was away, she was temporarily alone.

“Yes.”

His eyes flickered for a second and then the hostess caught his eye. “Oh look, our table’s open.” They sat in a corner booth and chitchatted until their second drink and dinner was ordered, and just when she was getting comfortable—just when she thought she could be there, he started.

“So what happened with us, Az?”

“What do you mean?” She evaded. He pursued. “The note? in St Paul?” When there was no answer forthcoming, he moved on. “I couldn’t quit thinking about you, about us and what we…could have, might have. I think I wrote that, didn’t I?”

“You did.” She searched his face. It felt like every moment they’d had together converged to this point.  She didn’t know why he could say it now, and not back then, when it would have made a difference.

“And you chose him over me and I thought that was it.” There was hurt in his voice and her soul ached at the sound of it.

“That wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all.”

“I know.” His hand floated across the table and settled over hers. “I figured it out, finally. Which is why I had to tell you. That’s why I wrote the letter. Sorry, it took so long.”

“Me too.” It was all she could say. The waitress appeared with food.  The crispy cube steak sizzled, white gravy steaming, its food comfort scent tickling her nose. She watched Ross eat. Even the way he ate was sexy. Cutting the steak into neat angular squares without a wasted movement, he laid the knife aside and took a bite. He closed his eyes, savoring the perfectly composed bite of meat, potatoes and gravy. His eyes opened.

“This is amazing.”

“Yes, it is.” She pushed food around on her plate. Hopefully, it would stay this way, a nice pleasant conversation about food. Maybe their careers.

“So, how’s the tour going?”

“I don’t want to talk about the tour.” He stabbed another hunk of steak.

“Okay. We could talk about the weather. Looks like rain today.”

“Azure. Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Change the subject. Avoid things. We’re talking here.”

“Talking’s over rated,” she said and paid particular attention to her own food, needing the space the action gave her. Talking really had been overrated with her husband. Their conversations had disintegrated into long roundabout one-sided dissertations. They never seemed to serve a purpose except to wear her down until she didn’t want to speak again. Could it actually be different with Ross? They’d never had awkward silences, or stilted conversation or the general unease that she felt now. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Last I’d heard you were getting married, moving to LA and becoming a movie star or something.” She tried to sound light and airy. It came out snippy and airheaded.

“That was Dani, not me.  I never made it to California.” He watched her reaction. She tried her best not to have one. “She hooked up with her agent and she’s happier now,” he said, failure evident in his tone. Ross wasn’t the kind of guy who accepted failure easily—hadn’t had the benefit of it happening over and over again like some.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?” his eyes sparkled.

“No.” She smiled back at him. He wasn’t as broken hearted as she’d thought.

“I should have known better. I thought I loved her—maybe I did. But I couldn’t love her like….you.  I—”

“Don’t say it.” She stopped him. Not now, not after all this time. “You wanted kids,” she said flatly.
Always, always with the shortcomings.
She didn’t know why she did this to herself.

He looked away, but only for a moment, his eyes coming back to her in that way they had. Always finding her, across the room, across a table, it didn’t matter where, he always found her.

“You think that matters to me?”  He shrugged.

“And waste this incredible gene pool?” She waved her hand across the table at his button down blue shirt, open at the neck, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. He was tan, and fit and beautiful. What woman wouldn’t want to have kids with him? “Are you kidding?”

He blushed. “God, I’ve missed you.” A faint pink crept up his neck, but it faded before it reached his face and she had the urge to whisk her fingers along his stubble, just to feel it.

“I missed you too.”  She smiled.
Things were going so well
.

“We really fucked this up, didn’t we?”

“We?” She put her fork down. “We fucked this up? I didn’t run off and get married—”