Romance Me (Boxed Set) (8 page)

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It sounded as if Henry liked me, but Rach had told him off. “What did he say then? And why oh why didn’t you give him my number?”

She gave me a confused look. “Um, because Craig seems way more compatible? Do I need to remind you of the Dillon fiasco?”

Her desk phone rang, but she let it go to voicemail so I went on, “Rach, I had it all wrong. You did the right thing with Dillon. You liked him and you went for it.”

She leaned forward in her chair, then threw her hands up in a cheer. “And look how great that turned out.”

“Here’s the thing.” I moved closer and lowered my voice so nobody else could hear because adjacent cubicles tended to have big ears and at this point the lunch hour was way over. “Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. And like how many people do we date before we even get married? A lot. Right?”

Her face went slack. “F-Y-I, if this speech is supposed to be uplifting, you need to rewrite it.”

“My point is that despite all my convictions about compatibility, I wasn’t really looking for the love of my life. With all my calculations, I ruled guys out before I’d ever given them a chance. If I’m interested in someone, I can’t cross him out because he prefers hang gliding over strolls on the beach. If I do, I could miss an amazing fifty-two year marriage that’s still going strong.”

She ignored the ringing phone on her desk and shook her head. “You lost me.”

I covered my face with my hands. “I can’t stop thinking about Henry.”

“Henry?” She looked thoroughly confused. “What happened to Craig? I thought you had everything in common.”

I threw my hands out. “We’re compatible in many ways. He’d be a logical, safe choice, but . . . I’m not interested. Isn’t that ironic?”

“Painfully so.”

Tears filled my eyes. “I should’ve gone to Simply Skilled yesterday. It’s where I
wanted
to be. But it scared me how much I liked Henry so I went for my safety date. And the entire time, I kept wishing I’d been in class with Henry.”

Her eyes widened as if she’d just thought of something, then she fished in her handbag and pulled out a white envelope. “This might not be a good time to do this, but Henry asked me to give this to you. He didn’t say what it was.”

Rachel’s telephone went
beep
and Ginger announced that Rach had an important call waiting and that the customer had been unable to reach her. She gave me a regretful look and I shooed her to take it since, you know, we were at work and that’s kind of what they paid us to do.

I went back to my cubie, ripped open the envelope, and emptied the contents into the palm of my hand. A silver dog bone-shaped piece of metal shined up at me, attached to a key ring. The silver bone was embossed with cursive lettering that read
Ellen
and when I flipped it over it said
Auntie of the Year
. Even as my eyes burned, I laughed, remembering how I kept telling Henry I hoped to win Auntie of the Year from all my dog duty with Chester.

I fingered the tiny gift in my hand, thinking I’d never received a more wonderful present and wanting, more than anything, to call and thank him for it. My throat tightened, knowing I’d blown something special. And Rach had ruined any chance for repair.

Maybe storybook romance did exist, but I was the bonehead princess kicking the prince to the curb before he’d had a chance to ask me to the ball. Or, even better, to a picnic by the dog park.

****

After work, I sat on my couch debating whether or not searching “Henry Holbrook III” online would make me creepy-obsessive. As I weighed the pros and cons of internet stalking, my mom called on her way home to tell me where she’d made dinner reservations before we hit the art show tonight.

I’d tried to keep my voice upbeat to hide my miserable mood, but apparently I’d done a lousy job because as we were wrapping up, my mom said, “Is something wrong? You sound down. Are things not going well with your new man?”

“Who? Oh, Craig.” I’d forgotten about him. I sat on my couch and hugged one of the embroidered pillows to my chest for comfort. “No, I broke that off.”

“Why?” Mom’s voice oozed with sympathy. “He sounded perfect.”

No, apparently just eighty-six percent. “He kept a chart, Mom. To rate how compatible we are.”

Long pause. “How’d you do?”

I bolted upright. “Mother!”

“What?” She used her innocent tone. “I want to know your score. Any man who didn’t think you were a catch is doing the math wrong.”

“You know, it doesn’t even matter.” I dropped back into the cushions and took a big breath. “I’m interested in someone else.”

Not that it mattered at this point.

“The other man from
Detailed Dating?
” I could hear the
humm
of her garage door going up and knew she’d arrived home.

“No.” I bit my lip, hoping I’d have her support. “From, uh, doggy class. I took Rachel’s miniature beagle when I was puppy sitting, long story, and that’s where I met Henry. He adopted a stray dog and signed her up for obedience school. Isn’t that sweet?”

Short pause, then I heard a car door slam. “But you don’t like dogs.”

Why did everyone keep saying that? “I do, too.”

“I’ve known you since birth and you’ve never expressed a smidgeon of interest in animals.” Then she laughed. “Remember when you were in high school and Frank brought home his sister’s King Charles Spaniel, Bitsy? You ran around the house with that lint remover permanently attached to your hand until the day she picked her up.”

I rolled my eyes at the mention of Mom’s husband number two. “That was fifteen years ago.”

Not that a lint remover wouldn’t come in handy with a dog around . . .

“All right, honey. He has a dog and you love dogs.” She snickered. “What else do you know about him?”

“He’s sweet. Funny.” I fingered the dog bone keychain in my hand. “Thoughtful.”

“Hmmm.”

My stomach clenched at her disapproving tone. “What?”

She sighed. “Sweet and funny seem nice in the beginning, but they won’t keep the relationship going long-term. What are his goals? What are his interests? I thought we decided
Detailed Dating
was the way to go. Those men are looking for serious relationships and they lay it all on the line. That’s how I met Robert. Online dating.”

My jaw clenched. “You don’t even know Henry. How can you just rule him out?”

“It sounds like you don’t know him very well either.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not trying to upset you, Ellen. I want you to be smart so you don’t get hurt. Lasting relationships are about compatibility.”

Tears burned my eyes. “How would you know?”

“After two failed marriages, I think—”

“Don’t forget about my dad.” Okay, my voice might’ve sounded a tad sharp.

“Well, I never married him so—”

“He doesn’t count. I’ve heard it before. You know what? That’s your life, not mine, and you don’t have all the answers. Who even knows what will happen with your marriage to Robert? You haven’t even had your first anniversary yet.”

“Ellen!”

“You think you know what’s best for me, but you don’t.” My throat felt raw as I gripped the phone against my ear. “I’m not interested in online dating anymore. The three pet classes with Henry felt like three of the best dates I’ve ever been on. It was different with him. Not a crush, or infatuation, it felt . . . right. It doesn’t make sense, but I can’t explain it any other way.”

Silence.

“I’ve blown it with him anyway and you’re probably glad. But, I can’t date who
you
think is right for me. I’m thirty-years-old, Mom. I need to live my life my way.” I swiped at my wet cheeks. “I have to go.”

“I will see you tonight.” Her voice was tight and firm.

Grunting in frustration, I turned my phone off and tossed it on the cushion next to me. Oh, man. I’d never talked to my mom like that before. Well, not since my teen years, anyway. Great. Dinner and the art show should be such a blast. Not.

As I rubbed my temples, the white box on my coffee table caught my eye and called to me. So, even though I felt miserable, I tried on my red stilettos. They fit perfectly and I took them for a test loop around my living room. Amazing. Sleek red heels actually made walking more fun. I’d loved these shoes the moment I’d tried them on, but I’d gone for the safety pair instead. Smart and sensible. That’s me.

Or, that
had
been me. I promised myself that from now on, I was going to start choosing the shoes I really wanted. Ditto on men.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After the horrible phone conversation with my mom, I took a long hot bath, hoping to soak away my troubles. No such luck. Now, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, I opened my front door and stared miserably at Rachel, who looked gorgeous in a jade green dress. “Forget tonight. I’m not going.”

“Turn.” She made a circular motion with her finger, shut the door behind her, then nudged me toward my bedroom. “Change.”

With Rachel’s hand planted firmly on my back, I dragged my feet as I moved forward begrudgingly. “I had an awful fight with my mom.”

“Really?” She headed straight for my closet, flipped through my clothes, and eyed a beige dress up and down before dismissing it. “What about?”

I dropped back on my bed. “Thirty years of pent up aggression, I think. She’s hounding me to get back to
Detailed Dating
. I told her I’m only interested in one person and she was less than thrilled with my choice.” I sat up suddenly. “Do you think tracking down Henry on the internet would be going overboard?”

“No need.” She selected a sexy black and red silk camisole from my closet and handed it to me. “I took care of it.”

Every muscle in my body froze. “Y-you what?”

She gave an exaggerated shrug. “I called All Things Furry, spoke to Abby Wilson, and used my powers of persuasion to get Henry’s phone number. Then I called him, admitted I’d jumped to conclusions about you liking that
Detailed Dating
guy, and told him which art gallery we’d be at tonight if he wanted to meet up with us.”

I squealed. “You did? Seriously?”

“Yes, which is why you need to get dressed.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. “He kinda came across stunned when I mentioned we were going to the art showing so I told him we were quite cultural, thank you very much.”

I threw my arms around her. “I love you, Rach. You’ve taken the term ‘best friend’ to a whole new level.”

“Ooof.” She patted me on the back as I tightened my grip. “It was the least I could do after my negative vibes from my Dillon drama botched your cute flirtation. I can’t believe I lost two days of my life being depressed over that twig.”

“He was so not worth it.” I slipped out of my bathrobe, then into a black skirt and the dressy tank Rach picked out. “How did Henry sound when you called?”

“Surprised.” She held her hands up. “But in a good way.”

“And he said he’d meet us?”

She tapped a crimson painted fingernail against her chin. “Not specifically, but he seemed interested.”

My stomach clenched. “What if he doesn’t come?”

“That wouldn’t be a good sign.” Apparently noticing the disappointed look I felt spread across my face, she waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure he will, though.”

Checking my watch, I saw we were running late to meet my mom and Robert for dinner. I zipped to the bathroom, did a re-touch on my make-up, ran a brush through my hair, then checked myself in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes wide, and I tucked my shoulder-length hair behind my ears. This silky tank and black skirt was a lot sexier than anything Henry had seen me wear to doggy class. Not exactly attire for practical black boots. This ensemble screamed red high heels all the way.

I hurried to the living room and slipped into my gorgeous red stilettos. Every nerve in my body felt anxious. What if he didn’t show?

I couldn’t think like that.

Because what if he
did
show.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the front door, and held my head high. “I’m ready.”

No more playing it safe.

If Henry came to the art gallery tonight, I’d reveal my feelings to him.

****

As we walked into Ripple Art Gallery in downtown Sacramento, my mom and I speared in different directions.

“Gee, that dinner wasn’t uncomfortable or anything.” Rachel accepted a glass of champagne from a server, handed me a flute, and steered me toward an abstract painting that would’ve looked great in my living room.

“How does
she
have the nerve to be mad at
me
?” I pointed to my chest. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

Rach raised a sarcastic brow. “Perhaps because you insulted her marriage? Insinuated it wouldn’t last?”

Oh, right. That. “I was trying to illustrate that she didn’t have all the answers.”

“Nice approach.” She clinked her glass to mine. “Not.”

I sipped my champagne, then surveyed the large, trendy room that was divided by tall, detached, white walls that stood solidly beneath the high black pipe-exposed ceiling. The place was packed. Seemed like all of Sacramento had turned up for this art gallery’s opening. Everyone except one person. I turned back to the painting, trying not to show my disappointment. “I don’t see him.”

“Relax. We just got here.” She pivoted slowly, her eyes scanning the room. “Wait . . . yes, I think that’s him behind that wooden beam. Nice and early, too. Not exactly playing hard to get.”

I gasped. “Where?”

“Back left corner of the room.” She squinted, then put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, wow.”

“What?” I demanded, not daring to turn around.

“Yesterday he’d been wearing sweats and had major stubble.”

Sounded familiar to me. “And?”

Her eyes descended presumably from his head down to his toes. “Let’s just say, he sure cleans up well.”

As my heart thumped in my chest, I peeked over my shoulder. My eyes skipped past groups of people chatting, sipping champagne, and tasting hors d’oeuvres, until they came to rest on a
GQ
version of Henry.
Wow
was an understatement. He’d transitioned from sexy in an understated way to absolutely gorgeous in a universal cover model way. He wore slacks, a black collared shirt, and his tousled hair complimented his now clean-shaven face. Even from across the room, his eyes still got me, too. Deep, dark, and mysterious as he listened to whatever a woman with golden locks cascading over her shoulder was saying to him.