Take a Chance on Me (15 page)

“Mmm. Sounds nice,” I said.

“It is. The musicians have played Beethoven, Vivaldi, some Tchaikovsky.”

I just nodded in response. As usual when I was with Grant, I found myself wishing I knew more about subjects that I didn’t. Like shareholders. And classical music. As kind and gentlemanly as he’d always been, I could never shake the fact that I wasn’t entirely at ease with him. Or with myself when I was with him.

“Have you attended any concerts recently?” he asked me.

“Not recently. And, um, not Tchaikovsky.”

“Who then?”

“My friends and I went up to the Ravinia Festival to see the Goo Goo Dolls and Matchbox Twenty a couple of summer ago. We just had lawn seats, but we brought a picnic with us and blankets. And we sang along with the bands and danced with the thousands of other people there that night. It was packed.”

“You enjoyed it?”

“Very much.” Although I couldn’t think of that music without also thinking of Chance. “Let Love In” was by the Goo Goo Dolls. And when that song was playing at the gym and Chance looked at me…

“Well,” Grant said, considering, “maybe we can do something like that together this summer.”

I wanted to just go along with it. Wanted to say to Grant, “Yeah, that’d be great.”

But I couldn’t.

Even though Chance had been absolutely ridiculous to expect me to suddenly tell everyone in the world that my relationship with Grant was over, Chance’s words at The Gala about my not wanting to be honest with myself rang uncomfortably true. There was something I was beginning to realize I was feeling. It wasn’t about Grant, though. Or about my family. Or even about Chance. It was about
me,
but I couldn’t quite articulate it. I just knew that I needed to start by saying goodbye to Grant, and I needed to be courageous enough to do it now.

“Grant,” I began. “I’m not sure how to explain this because I don’t even understand how it happened myself, but I think it would be unfair to you if we kept dating.” Oh, God, I couldn’t believe I was really doing this. I hoped I could end things without hurting him.

He looked over at me in surprise. Then his expression hardened. “What’s going on, Nia? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” I said quickly, and I meant it. “This is truly about me, not you. You’re a remarkable man, and you’ve been really amazing—both to me and to my family.” I swallowed. He didn’t need to know all the details, but he did deserve to know the truth. “I wasn’t looking to meet anybody else once you and I started going out. I really wanted this relationship to be
it
. For you to be
the one
.” I paused again. “But somebody else walked into my life, unexpectedly, and he just…he just changed everything.”

“Personal trainer guy?” he guessed.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Grant.”

He nodded. “Thought there was something weird in the air between you two.”

I laughed a little to try to break the tension. “Yeah. ‘Something weird’ is probably a good descriptor.”

Grant cracked a small smile, but he quickly turned serious again. I could see him thinking, remembering events that had happened, and reframing them in a new light. I watched him as the words I’d just said began to sink in. He might be wealthy, successful, and good looking, but he was also human. And competitive. I could tell that hearing there was another man in my life wasn’t easy for him. He was angry, and he couldn’t quite hide it.

“So, when exactly did you start seeing this guy?” he asked, his jaw tense.

“I haven’t been ‘seeing’ him, Grant. Not outside of my workout sessions.”
Well, not until last night…

“But he was hitting on you there? At the gym?”

“I wouldn’t say he was hitting on me.”
Although Grant would probably call it that.
“We would just talk—”

“About what?”

“Um…” What
did
we talk about? It wasn’t the topic so much as the intensity of our eye contact. The unusual amount of attention Chance paid to everything I said or did. The way I’d been so attuned to his subtle mood changes. “Mostly good posture and abdominal exercises. A little bit about family. And music.”

“Music, huh?” Grant scoffed. “Sorry, Nia, but he doesn’t really strike me as an especially cultured guy. Music, art, literature—I don’t know what insights he’s got that would impress you, to be honest. But—” He shrugged. “Whatever. It’s your life. Your choice.”

“It is,” I agreed. “Again, I’m really sorry things didn’t work out better for us.”

He just sighed and shook his head, as if he still couldn’t believe I’d chosen Chance over him. It occurred to me that few women—if any—had ever broken up with Grant Jordan. I doubted he had much experience with being dumped, let alone coming in second for something. All things considered, he handled this disappointment fairly well. And after a long moment, he said, “I know. Me, too.”

I let out the air I’d been holding in my lungs, relieved we’d gotten to this point without any real trauma. I knew that even if Grant’s ego was a bit dented tonight, he’d get over it. Quickly. I could see him already pushing the incident aside, and moving on. Glancing at the waitress. At the other customers. At his phone. Perhaps he’d liked the idea or me or the thought of us as a couple, but he wasn’t deeply attached to me any more than I was to him.

We sat in awkward silence for a few minutes longer, staring at our half-eaten Italian meal, before he pointed at the table. “We’re not going to let all of this good food go to waste, are we?” He twisted his lips into a semblance of a smile. “Perhaps we should skip the concert but, unless you’re desperate to leave right this second, I don’t see why we can’t finish our dinner together…just as friends.”

I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes, due to both exhaustion and gratitude—probably in equal measure. I appreciated that Grant was trying so hard to be a good guy. He wasn’t the
right
guy for me, but I did like him. Much more, in fact, as a friend than as a boyfriend.

This feeling made me reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “Thank you for being so gracious about this. Yes, I’d love to finish our dinner together.”

Which we did. And when he drove me home, we hugged each other goodnight, and he said, “Good luck with it, Nia. And goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Grant. Thank you, again.”

And because it was far too early to go in the house and answer Mama’s questions—and because I’d had enough emotional overload for one night and couldn’t imagine facing Chance either—I just went for a long walk by myself. To think and clear my head, until I figured it would be safe to finally go home, slip inside undetected, and get some much-needed sleep.

~*~

Mama, however, had stayed awake, too.

Though she was someone who generally turned in to bed early, she was waiting for me—alone—in the living room when I walked in the door.

“Antonia,” she said. “Why don’t you come sit with me for a few minutes?”

Despite this being posed as a question, I knew it was a command, not a request.

It was after eleven p.m. and I was bone-tired but, nevertheless, I walked in there and sat down on the chair across from her. I seriously needed to rethink this whole “living at home” thing. Maybe it was time to finally get my own apartment, eh?

“How are you?” I asked my mother.

“Me? I’m fine.” She smiled carefully at me. “Although your boyfriend—the
first
one—seemed to think I’d been ill.”

“Oh, about that—”

She waved off my explanation. “I don’t need to know about that part. I’ve made up excuses to leave events before, too. But I want to know about the
other
part. What you’ve been doing with the second guy. That Michaelsen boy.”

Chance Michaelsen was no
boy,
but I didn’t think that would be the wisest thing I could say to start my defense. “Well, Chance is my personal trainer, so I see him three times a week at the gym, and we’ve become, um, friends—”

My mother was shaking her head. “That look he gave you in the bakery? That was not the look of a friend, sweetheart. You know that.”

I nodded. “You’re right. We’re more than friends…now. But that wasn’t true until last night.”

“Last night. After you left your date with Grant, yes?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Does Grant know you have another boyfriend besides him?”

“He does now, Mama. I told him tonight. When I broke up with him.”

My mother’s eyebrows shot up in shock. “You’re not dating Grant Jordan anymore?”

I shook my head. “I’m not.”

“But your father actually liked
him,
” she said. “Dimitri, too. And your aunt and uncle. Even your cousin Nick. And me. He said my
triopitas
were ‘delectable.’” She shrugged in confusion. “What’s not to love about him?”

“I know. I’m sorry to disappoint you—and everyone. No doubt about it, Grant’s a great guy. But Chance is, too.”

“Then I’m not understanding something,” Mama said. “Why leave a handsome man with a good business and a big future ahead of him for…for an exercise fanatic who won’t eat my baklava? You think you’d really want to marry such a person?”

“Oh, Mama,” I said, covering my eyes with my palms. My exhaustion and all of my pent-up frustrations with Chance were making me want to collapse into a puddle of tears in the middle of my parents’ living room.

“Tell me what you like about this boy,” my mother said gently. “It’s okay, Antonia. I will listen.”

So, I began to tell her about the Chance Michaelsen I’d been getting to know. The man who’d helped me ease my back pain. The man I’d often seen reaching out to others—like the elderly Mr. Alleghany, the young widow Julia Crane, the very enthusiastic but not very athletic Margot Dollinger, who sometimes had a session with Chance right before mine. How he was so kind to all of them. So patient and calm.

But I knew he was deeply passionate, too. And when I was with him, I not only felt as though I were more myself than I’d been with Grant or with previous boyfriends, but I also felt I was a stronger version of myself. A better, bolder, and braver one. Someone who needed to be more honest and open because he demanded that. Because he was paying such close attention to me.

“Even after just a couple of weeks of knowing him,” I said, “he’s changed my life. I don’t pretend to understand how. I just know it’s true.”

My mother nodded. “Do you see yourself marrying him? This new person—Chance?”

I felt the strangest sense of panic when she asked that. It was a similar emotion to what I’d experienced back at the Italian restaurant with Grant, just before I ended our relationship. A realization that existed somewhere in my body, but I was having a hard time articulating it. I could
feel
it, though. Right there in the space between my mind and my soul.

And, suddenly, I knew what it was. My heart had stepped in and managed to translate the emotion into understanding.

“I don’t want to get married,” I blurted. “Not to Grant. Not to Chance. Not to anyone.” Oh, God, the relief at finally saying it aloud! I hadn’t realized how that fear was strangling me. Keeping me scared and silent.

“Ever?”
Mama whispered, clutching her chest.

I thought about this for a long moment and consulted my deepest gut instinct before I spoke. Much as I liked Grant, I’d always sensed it would be wrong for us to get married, no matter how good the idea looked to everyone else. With Chance, all I knew for sure was that I was insanely attracted to him and curious to get to know him much more intimately (and not just in bed). But I’d need a crystal ball to be certain about actually marrying him and starting a family.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But I think there’s been too much pressure on me about this. Too much worry about hurrying up to meet a man and get married, Mama. I’m only twenty-six. I’m not ready to be someone’s wife, and I’m definitely not ready to be anybody’s mother. I need…time. A lot more time.”

There was something about the day of the bridal shower, getting that pink book at the bookstore, and all of the advice I’d read in it. Somewhere, in the middle of the “Fear” chapter, I’d realized I’d been looking for the wrong thing all the time. That, for me, it wasn’t about finding the right man; it was about
being
the right woman at the right place in my life. And I wasn’t at that place yet.

My mother seemed to be processing this new information about her daughter very, very quietly and seriously.

Finally, she stated, “I am too young to be a grandmother now anyway.” She held her arms out to me, a nonverbal plea for me to go over and hug her. I did, and we held each other for a long moment. Then she whispered in my ear, “But maybe not forever. You’ll think about marriage and children again in a couple of years, right?”

“Sure, Mama,” I said. “Give me a year or two, and I’ll reconsider the idea.”

Chapter Eleven

~ Chance ~

“I think I want to marry her,” I told my sister the next morning over coffee. “Seriously, Shar, I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I’m crazy about her.”

“What? You’ve known her for, like, two weeks,” she said, pouring more cream into her mug, in addition to the sugar she’d already put in there. We were at a corner table of Not the Same Old Grind, our town’s best place for coffee. And chocolate-chip cookies, according to my sister, who liked cookies—a lot. Which was why she’d insisted we meet here instead of just taking a nice healthy walk on this Sunday morning. “It’s too soon for you to be thinking like that,” she concluded.