Love and Miss Communication (32 page)

Opening score: fifteen-love, Evie.

“But yes, of course, she’s very proud of me and has been really helpful,” he added. It was just like Jack to give with one hand and take back with the other. Evie resented his ability to alter her emotional state within seconds.

Fifteen, all.

“Well that’s good,” Evie said. “I would hope so, seeing as you married her.” She didn’t mince words. As her aggravation with Jack escalated, she grew more certain that she was entitled to some sort of explanation about why he suddenly up and got married.

“About that, Evie,” Jack said, putting down the knife on her counter. She thought he was signaling it was time for a serious conversation, one that involved his full attention. But instead he reached for the raw turkey and ran it under the faucet. He raised his voice to speak over the running water.

“I know you must have been surprised to hear I got married.
To tell you the truth, it was all a blur. Zeynup got pregnant and I just panicked and proposed.”

Aha!
She knew there had to be a baby involved.

Thirty-fifteen.

“She miscarried, but by that time the wedding plans had all been set in motion. And I do love her.”

Damn it. Thirty, all.

“And now?” Evie asked, moving to stand next to him at the sink. Even though she thought Jack’s reason for following through with the wedding seemed cowardly, she still reached for the turkey, letting her fingers linger on his hands.

“And now, I can’t get you out of my mind. Evie, when you came into my restaurant with that other chap, I thought I would die,” he said.

Forty-thirty, Evie.

“Edward.”

“Well I gather from this feast you’re attempting that Edward is still very much in the picture. He’s very lucky,” Jack said, but he put his free hand on the back of Evie’s neck at the same time, sending shivers down her spine.

“When you didn’t respond to my many e-mails I nearly went crazy. I swear I checked my Hotmail every three minutes hoping you’d finally decided to get in touch with me.”

Now you know how it feels, Evie thought. To not have the upper hand for once.

“What about Zeynup?” she asked, moving slightly away from him but not removing his hand from her body. His fingers started creeping their way through her messy bun until he pulled out her rubber band and her hair fell around her shoulders.

“Evie, she’ll understand. I think she knows the truth about how we got to where we are now. This wouldn’t come as a surprise
to her,” he said. By now the chopped vegetables that he put into a frying pan were sizzling and sending their caramelized scent upward. Evie turned down the flame, musing over the symbolism.

“But has anything changed, Jack? I’m not ashamed anymore to say that I definitely want to get married and have a family.” She knew it was Edward giving her the confidence to say these things outright. A wonderful man who saw more of her real self than anyone else, who also wanted these very things with her, or at least she thought he did. He was often making references to the future. So why shouldn’t Jack?

“We’ll talk through all that later,” Jack said, bringing the score to deuce. He snaked a hand around her back and ran his fingers over her breast. She hated that her nipples reacted to his touch by hardening and protruding. Stupid reflexes. Jack had to notice.

“I’d like you to go.” She took a full stride away from him so he was no longer at arm’s length.

“Please call me,” Jack said as he let Evie start to push him out the door. When he was on the other side of the threshold he said, “Are you sure you don’t at least want me to stay so I can cook this dinner for you?”

“No. Just go.” Game-set-match.

But when she closed the door on him and looked back at the mess in her kitchen, she’d wished she’d accepted his offer. It was the least he could do for all the hell he’d put her through. Maybe it was advantage Jack after all.

But no, Evie thought, it wasn’t so. He had no more advantage over her. Jack could maybe win a game or two. But she would win the set.

He knocked a moment later. She opened the door a crack, and Jack forced his way inside.

“Evie, please. I need you.” He lunged for her, putting his
mouth on hers. His saliva tasted like acid. She recoiled, disgust moving across her face like a shadow.

“Jack, no more warnings. You need to leave now and not come back.”

# # #

“Bradley Winter!”

“Brad Winter?” Evie was back at Book-A-Saurus, relieved that it had yet to be shuttered. Her mother called just as she was reading an article about innovations in Venetian plaster painting. She wanted to impress on the first day of school. “Why are you bringing him up?” Evie asked Fran. She was off to meet Caroline for a movie in a few minutes and had no time to discuss one of her high school boyfriends.

“Do you know where Bradley Winter is now?” Fran asked, obviously eager to share.

“No idea. Haven’t seen him since graduation.”

“Well, I know. He’s the U.S. ambassador to the Czech Republic. And guess what else? He married a swimsuit model. They have three kids.” Fran’s voice brimmed with satisfaction.

“How in the world do you know that?” Evie asked.

“Facebook. After you quit the damn thing, I joined just to see what the hell it’s all about.”

“And why are you telling me this?” Evie said, surprised to hear her mother cussing.

“Because you dumped Bradley Winter when he sent you roses and chocolates for Valentine’s Day. You thought if he was so into going steady with you, then you were settling by being with him.”

That was actually true. At the time she told Fran she dumped Bradley because his house smelled like whitefish.

“Look, you play the part of the insecure girl with the misfortune
of being single when all her friends are married. But the truth is that you don’t think anyone’s good enough for you. Anyone, that is, except for the one person that didn’t want you. He’s apparently the guy you’d be willing to marry. But trust me, if Jack did ever actually marry you, his novelty would wear off pretty quickly.”

“Yikes, Mom. How long have you been saving up this speech?”

“Not long. I had an epiphany after seeing Bradley’s Facebook page.”

“Congratulations. The only thing Facebook did for me was make me suicidal,” Evie said, a bit too contemplatively. “Exaggerating, of course!”

“Well that’s your own doing, Evie,” Fran said. “You’ve got to think about your future. Long-term happiness. What you deserve. Who is going to be the better father? Who is going to be the better husband? Who do you love? And by love I mean come home to at the end of a long day when your feet are aching and—”

“Mom, I got it. Please don’t worry about me.”

“I really hope so. I had to catch you before I left with Winston for New Haven to see May play in her squash match.”

“Be sure to tell her I say hello,” Evie said in a sarcastic tone.

“Evie, cut it out. Winston’s girls are lovely. They practically worship you. What do you have against them?”

“Worship me?” Evie scoffed. “May never so much as asked me about Yale.”

“Evie, please. Don’t play dumb. They are intimidated by you. You’re beautiful and successful and live this big life in Manhattan and you see them as sheltered babies. They know that. I wouldn’t feel comfortable asking you for advice either. I gotta hang up because Winston is nudging me out the door. I love you,” Fran said.

“Love you too, Mom.”

“I’m officially old,” Evie said, flexing her feet in bed to work out the morning cramps. She couldn’t believe it was her birthday and how much had changed since last spring. At least the last couple of months had been uneventful—in the absolutely best way possible.

“You look as young as the day I met you.” Evie could hear the familiar sounds of the morning routine from the bathroom—the toothbrush clinking against a glass, the foam of the shaving cream emerging from the can.

“Very funny,” Evie responded, cozily tugging the blankets around her neck. Though she was
rather pleased if he meant what he said. A lot had transpired. If she’d resisted some extra wrinkles along the way, that alone was reason for celebration.

“I think it’s time to wake up, birthday girl,” he said, appearing beside her with two mugs of steaming hot coffee, hers prepared just the way she liked it. “You excited for tonight? Should be fun.” Caroline was having a party at her house later to celebrate Evie’s birthday. Evie made her promise to keep it small and casual, but Caroline was not capable of hosting anything to which either of those adjectives could be applied. At least she promised not to serve red wine out of respect for the new furniture Evie had ordered for the living room.

“Yeah, it’s nice everyone will be there.” She sat up in bed, resting her head dreamily against the headboard. “But truthfully, I’m more looking forward to the after party.” She clinked her mug against his, and they both took sips through big smiles.

“So what do you want to do today? Anything you desire, I’m at your service.”

Evie was disappointed. While the sentiment was kind, she had sort of expected that the minute she bounded out of bed an elaborate day would unfold, one that might even involve a proposal by night’s end. But now it seemed like she was being left to plan her own birthday.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought much about it,” she lied.

“C’mon, surely you can think of something you’d like to do.”

Evie glanced out the window. It looked like a perfect spring day, one of the perks of being a May baby.

“Well, I guess we could go for a walk, maybe get some breakfast?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Okay, I’ll throw on my clothes,” Evie said, reaching for the jeans and tank top on the floor next to his bed.

“You look beautiful in the mornings.” He stood next to her with a towel wrapped around his waist. Evie inhaled his freshly scented skin. It was hard to be mad at him, especially after her erratic behavior just a few months before.

“Thank you, Edward. I love you.” She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. “I’m so happy to spend my birthday with you. Wait, happy’s not enough.” Evie paused and touched her pointer finger to her chin to show deep contemplation. “I’m elated. That’s a much better word.”

“Me too,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I bet all the women at the hospital are jealous of me, right?” Evie teased as her fingers grazed his beeper.

“No, I don’t think so,” Edward said, scratching his head. “Wait, what am I saying? They hold a daily vigil praying for your untimely demise.”

Edward. He was so sure of himself, he didn’t need to impress Evie with stories of being sought after, like Jack used to do. She had grown accustomed to hearing about needy waitresses requesting cooking lessons and saucy bartenders asking him to test their latest concoctions after closing. At first when Edward never mentioned a nurse or a patient’s family member hitting on him, Evie questioned if she was alone in finding him so irresistible. By now she recognized, and appreciated, that Edward didn’t feel the need to share such occurrences, and maybe, just maybe, he was too in love with her to even notice.

They left Edward’s place, where Evie had basically moved in, and set out hand in hand toward Zabar’s. Evie tried her best to mask her disappointment that a proposal was unlikely looming. Bette had already left her a voice message at the crack of dawn wishing her a happy birthday, and Evie was purposely waiting to call back in case she had news to share. But now she figured she might as well just call back sooner rather than later so
her grandma didn’t get her hopes up too much during the day. Bette was thankfully doing well, power walking around the Boca Beach shopping center and playing canasta, and now enjoying a new tradition—watching Sam’s informal stand-up act on Sundays at the complex’s pool.

After about ten minutes of strolling through the midmorning pedestrian traffic, Edward said, “Let’s run up to your apartment for a minute if that’s okay. I need to use the bathroom before we load up on sugar and fat.”

Lovely. So not only were they not getting engaged today, but Edward was also sharing his bodily functions with her. If they weren’t married, she shouldn’t have to hear about his plans to poop.

“Can you just go at Zabar’s?” Evie asked, not feeling especially compliant.

“No, I can’t. I want to use your apartment,” Edward insisted. Suddenly Evie’s mood reversed. This must be it! Edward was trying to lure her to her apartment where no doubt one of his friends had set up champagne and roses. An emerald-cut diamond would be sitting in a velvet box, waiting to encircle one of the most ready fingers in all of New York.

“Okay, honey, sorry. Let’s go upstairs.”

In the elevator she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective railing. If her big moment was coming, she had better spruce up. She pulled out her ponytail holder, slicked on lip gloss, and used a dash of moisture from her mouth to smooth her wayward eyebrows.

“It’s just Zabar’s,” Edward joked as she primped herself on the ride up to the nineteenth floor.

“Just want to look good on my birthday.”

When they reached her door, Evie inhaled deeply. The moment
was upon her, and the anticipation was every bit as delicious as she’d suspected it would be. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a hummingbird’s tiny wings. Her stomach was a wreck. If an oxygen mask had dropped down in front of her face, she’d happily have put it on.

“Well?” Edward said, “I really have to go to the bathroom. Can you open the door?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Evie said, flustered. Her fingertips were tingling.

When the door opened, the first things Evie noticed were the purple cardigan and thin checkered scarf she had worn the day before. They were lying in a crumpled ball on the arm of her sofa, where she had left them after changing her outfit. If Edward were about to propose in her apartment, he surely would have cleaned up first.

Edward disappeared into the bathroom, and Evie began a frantic search behind the curtains and inside every drawer, looking for evidence of an impending proposal, but she came up empty.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Edward said.

“Fine, let’s just go,” Evie said, replacing the couch cushions.

“But wait, don’t you want to know what this is?” Edward asked, extending his arms.

The bathroom.
It was the one place she hadn’t looked.

Edward was carrying a wrapped box that looked about the size of a book.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said, handing over the package. Unless it was a box containing a dozen other smaller boxes inside like a Russian nesting doll, it didn’t seem likely the contents would please her.

“Thanks,” Evie said, surprised by the weight of the package.
“I can’t imagine what it is.”

“Well, before you open it, let me say a few words. I know this is something you don’t have. And I believe you are ready to enjoy it. Plus I think you’re really going to need it.”

At this point Evie became convinced he was describing a vibrator. She didn’t have one. She would enjoy it. And if Edward wasn’t going to propose on her thirty-fifth birthday or sometime soon after, then she was definitely going to need it.

“So, go ahead, open it,” Edward said with a huge grin.

“Okay, here I go,” Evie said, ripping open the paper. It was gold foil, totally not her taste, and had a cheesy poly bow affixed to it. “Wow, a new computer.”

The present may have been expensive, but it entirely missed the mark. Even a cheesy ankle bracelet would have been better than this unromantic hunk of machinery.

“You don’t like it?” Edward asked.

“No, no, I love it. Really useful. Who doesn’t love typing?” she hedged with humor.

“Well, it’s just that I know your old computer broke. And you said when you turned thirty-five you were going to go back to using the web,” Edward said.

It was true. With her first semester at the New York School of Interior Design beginning in just a few months and actual projects to display on her business website, using a computer would be essential. And given how happy she was with Edward, she felt ready to go back online. Other people’s wedding and baby photos would no longer send her in search of a Zoloft. She told Edward she planned to buy a new computer, and an iPhone and iPad too. But she promised herself she’d be so much smarter about using the Internet this time around—refusing to let herself get obsessive and miss out on the chances for her life to happen organically. And her stalking days were definitely behind her.

Apparently he’d been listening. Because she was holding an
eleven-inch MacBook Air with a 1.7GHz Intel Core i5 Processor. At least he’d thrown in lots of the fancy extras, like the portable charger and an external CD-ROM.

“So, let’s fire this thing up,” Edward said. “I already set everything up for you. Aren’t you curious to read your e-mail after all this time?”

A single tear rolled down her cheek. Edward noticed immediately and pulled her close.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked gently.

“It’s just, it’s just—” Evie tried to talk. Maybe she should tell Edward the truth. “I don’t know, I guess, I’m always disappointed on my birthday. It usually rains.”

“Well, it’s a beautiful day. Check your e-mail and then we can go for breakfast. I bet you have over fifty thousand e-mails waiting for you. You going to start reading at the oldest or the most recent?” Edward seemed unusually insensitive to her fragility.

“I don’t know. What’s the difference?” Evie said.

Edward looked deflated.

“All right, let me get at this computer,” she added with more vigor, making a show of opening the laptop and stroking the keys.

“I took the liberty of buying the domain name www.Manhattan Maison.com. You should check it out. I even made you a logo. It’s pretty pathetic but at least it’s a start.”

“Okay, okay, let me see.” She sat down cross-legged on the floor and threw her hair up into a bun. She actually felt exhilarated facing a computer screen for the first time in nearly a year. Maybe the gift wasn’t all that bad.

She typed in the Manhattan Maison web address that Edward had reserved for her. The page was blank save for one line: “In order to access this web page, you will need to authenticate your identity. Please click on the link in the e-mail from [email protected] to verify your identity.”

This kind of computer crap she didn’t miss.

“Edward?” He had disappeared into the kitchen. “Can you make coffee?” If she was really going to look at all of the e-mails she missed over the past year, Zabar’s would have to wait. He didn’t answer.

She opened her Gmail. Her inbox registered 24,612 unread messages. Jesus. Where to start?

It was clear that she was in an unquestionably better place today than she was a year ago, so she chose to scroll to the most recent e-mail in the list. It was from Edward. The subject of the e-mail was “Manhattan Maison Authentication.”

She clicked it open, and suddenly the butterflies returned to her stomach. The e-mail contained just one line, but it was the best thing to ever appear on a screen, or anywhere. In Times New Roman, size 30 font, all caps, Evie read the following:

EVIE ROSEN, WILL YOU MARRY ME?

She spun around and Edward was behind her, on one knee, with an open box. The ring looked very familiar. It was a sapphire, surrounded by diamonds.

“My grandmother’s ring,” Evie gasped.

“She insisted when I told her I was going to propose.”

Evie was stunned speechless, relying on the reserves in her vocal cords to deliver the only word she needed to say.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then, summoning more strength, she repeated the same. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes.”