Taking Heart (14 page)

“Yes, I’m here. And I will,” she said. “Just, not yet.”

“Ren,” Eric said in a gentle tone that signaled something harsh was about
to come out of his mouth. “It’s been four months. Don’t you think it’s about
time to start letting go?”

Her face flushed instantly. “So not only are you a Cokeologist, you’re
also an expert on how to get over the love of your life?”

But Eric seemed unperturbed. “I don’t believe in having only one love of
your life,” he said, knocking her off balance.

“What?”

“I think you’re holding onto a love that you think is irreplaceable. What
I’m saying is that you can love like that again. Maybe even better.”

She sniggered. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?”

“Here I am, pouring my heart out to you, and all you can do is plan how
to best angle yourself to my affections.”

Eric sputtered and sounded irritated when he spoke once more. “Ren, I
think you’d better get some rest now. Because you are starting to talk
gibberish.”

“Sure, whatever. Goodnight then.”

“And for the record, I actually believe what I said.”

Ren hung up, still a jumble of emotions. But for all his faults, Eric had
at least managed to make her stop feeling sorry for herself.

Eric wanted to pound his fists on the table, but he just clenched his
fork in his hand in exasperation. Ren had just accused him of trying to worm
into her affections, a claim that he would have normally accepted with a grin
and a wink had it actually been the truth, but for once there had been no
hidden agenda behind his advice.

He picked up the phone, intent on clearing his name. “By the way,” he
said as soon as Ren picked up. “This no-holds-barred honesty I have with you is
not going to work out if you keep questioning my motives.”

She was quiet for a long time before finally saying, “You’re right. I’m
sorry. But to be fair, I think you’re overreacting a little.”

He sighed, expelling all of the hot air from his lungs. “I know. But
having you question my word is
unfair,
especially
since you’re the only person I’ve ever had this kind of open dialogue with
before. When I said I’d be your friend, I meant it. I’m not going to come on to
you, blatantly or otherwise, until you ask me to.”

“Okay then,” she said. “And, even though I may question it from time to
time, I really value your friendship. I really do.”

“Then we’re all good again?” he said hopefully.

“Yes. I don’t like fighting with you.”

“Me either, Ren.”

After he hung up and finished his dinner, which didn’t taste at all too
bad for his first time cooking, he went to the kitchen drawer full of
miscellany and pulled out his much-revered little black book. Here he was, on a
Friday night, alone and cooking for himself. It just didn’t seem right.

As he flipped through countless pages of girls he’d either dated or just
slept with, he came across a name that he hadn’t thought of in a long time.
Karen Miller was a girl he met back in UCLA, way before he quit college to
become a professional mooch. They had dated for almost five months, until he
realized that he actually had feelings for the girl. So he had done what any
rational male would do in his situation: he ran. He stopped calling, stopped
answering her calls, he even walked the long way around campus in order to
avoid running into her.
All because he had found himself
caring.
He really was a jerk.

Karen Miller,
he thought as he began to dial her number.
I wonder what you’re up to
these days.

“So what possessed you to finally contact me after all these years?”
Karen asked the next night as she sat across the table from Eric. She leaned
back in her chair and looked over the mini garden inside the Yamashiro
restaurant. “By the way, this place is beautiful. Good choice.”

Eric smiled, following her gaze towards the squared-off center of the
restaurant that held a small serpentine pond, plants and stone pagodas meant to
mimic the look of a real Japanese garden. “My friend told me about it,” he
said, trying to avoid the question.

But Karen was astute and she eyed him cannily. “What about the question?
Why did you call me out of the blue?”

Eric cleared his throat and glanced at an approaching waiter, who turned
out to be waiting on another table. “Well.” He cleared his throat again. “I was
just wondering what you’ve been up to all these years.”

She raised a brown eyebrow. She had always been pretty with her delicate
bone structure, but now she looked flawless, as if time had polished her to a
fine shimmer. “Well, I’ve been good. I graduated from UCLA and went on to work
for Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, where I’ve been working as a Physical
Therapist ever since.”

“That’s awesome,” he said, surprised that he’d forgotten a lot of things
about her, like her major, for example. “Do you like it?”

“It’s sometimes tough, but mostly I love it,” she said with a smile that
reached her green eyes.
“I mean, I help children recover.
How
can I not love it?”

He gazed at her across the red-swathed table and remembered a little of
the admiration he’d had for her back in college. She had always loved children,
which was a large reason why he’d freaked out when he realized he had feelings
for her. “That’s terrific. You always said you wanted to change the world one
kid at a time.”

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he detected a blush on her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said almost shyly. He couldn’t believe the girl he had ditched
back in college had blossomed into this woman who still managed to charm him.
Back then, he might have perceived that as a bad sign, but here, in this
uncertain time of his life, he wondered what it would be like to face his fears
head on instead of running. “I don’t see a ring on your finger. Are you seeing
anyone?”

“No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Why the hell not?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You’re
a catch.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt foolish. How stupid of
him to tell that to the girl he’d dumped unceremoniously so many years ago.

She looked away. “So, what are you doing these days?” she said to change
the subject. “Weren’t you a mass comm. major?”

“Mass Comm.,” he said with a chuckle. “The major for people who can’t
decide on a major.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Well, actually.” He paused, staring at her earnest expression, trying to
decide if telling the truth was worth losing her respect. “I dropped out and
got into the club business in the Los Angeles scene.”

“Oh, really? Which club do you own? Have I heard of it?”

He looked down at his hand, which was busy twisting a white cloth napkin
around. “Actually, I never owned a bar,” he said with an insincere shrug. He
could feel the heat of embarrassment traveling up his neck and towards his
face. He had never cared before what anybody thought of his life choices. Why
now? He was Eric Sorenson, for crying out loud! “I bartended at Club Amsterdam
for a while.”

She fought to keep her expression still, but he saw the slight droop at
the corners of her mouth. “Oh. I guess you’re not doing that anymore?”

He shook his head. “I had to stop. As it turned out, I was born with a
valvular heart disease that finally needed fixing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What was it?”

“I had a leaky valve,” he said, and she nodded as if she knew exactly
what he was talking about. Then again, she probably did since she was in the
medical field and all. “I ignored it all my life, but all those years of
partying finally caught up with me. So it was either get the operation or die.”

She smiled. “Good choice.”

As their food arrived, he studied Karen’s face, realizing that Ren was
not the only person in the world he could confide in. That sudden awareness
left him with warring feelings of relief and disappointment that he wasn’t
about to delve into during his date. Tonight was Karen’s night, and he would
give her his full attention. He owed her that much at least.

After the date, Eric drove Karen back to her condo in Studio City. At her
front door, as the key was poised before the lock, she turned back to Eric and
said, “You still haven’t told me the real reason why you asked me out on a
date.”

With his hands in his pockets, he said with a cocky grin, “You still
haven’t told me why you’re not dating anyone.”

“Well,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Why don’t you come in and we can
exchange answers?”

“Deal.”

The first thing that struck him about her buttery yellow condo was that
it was so tidy. Either Karen had just moved in or she was nearly obsessive with
her organization. “Nice place,” he said, eyeing the contemporary style of her
furniture that did not look much different than his own.

“Thank you,” she said, placing her purse on an entryway table. “I’ve just
gotten rid of my college stuff and bought adult furniture.”

“I like your style,” he said, patting the back of a leather armchair.

“Would you like some wine?” She walked over to the well-lit kitchen and
pulled out two wine glasses from a cherry-wood cabinet. “White or red?”

He eyed the bottles that she held out. “I think we need red for a night
like this.”

She handed him the Bordeaux and a fancy corkscrew. “I always seem to
disintegrate the cork,” she said with an apologetic shrug.

“Well you’re in luck,” he said, and expertly extracted the cork from the
bottle without so much as a cork crumb out of place. “I happen to be a master
at opening alcoholic beverages.” She held out the two wine glasses and he
poured.

“Here’s to long life,” she said and touched her glass to his.

He held her eye as he lifted his glass for another toast. “Here’s to old
flames. May the fading embers be rekindled.
”

She smiled. “I’ll toast to that.” He leaned closer, but she leaned back
and held a finger up to his lips. “Tell me why you called me.”

He straightened, nonplussed. “Why is that so important to you?”

“Because I want to know.”

“Wasn’t my toast explicit enough for you?”

“Yes, but why now? Why not last year? Why not the year before that?”

He leaned against the counter and took a big swig of the wine. “Because I
was an asshole who didn’t know what I’d lost until just recently.”

“You and I both know that that’s not really an answer.”

“Okay, fine.” He knew when he was defeated and cornered. “Because I am a
royal fuck-up with relationships, as you are very well aware. So, after another
failed relationship, I wanted to see you to figure out why the hell I decided
that we couldn’t be together. Maybe if I figure it out, I can begin to learn
from my mistakes and actually have a real relationship for once.”

A frowned creased her forehead. “So you didn’t actually want to see me,
you just wanted to dissect past relationships?”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “But I quickly came to the realization that I was
an asshole for dumping you.”

She swallowed. “Why did you?”

“Because I was afraid of my feelings for you.” There, he had said it
aloud, and with such an admission came a huge sense of relief. “I’m sorry I was
such a jerk.”

“I forgave you a long time ago.” She lifted her chin. “And are those
feelings still there?”

He moved closer and cupped her cheek with his palm. “I don’t know. Let me
find out,” he said and leaned down for a kiss. He smiled as he pulled away,
masking the slight twinge of disappointment in his belly. “I think it is a
definite possibility.”

She took a languorous sip of her wine, though her eyes never left his
face. “I’m not dating anyone because I keep comparing them to you. And so far,
nobody has even come close to the standard.”

He was taken aback. “Seriously? I’m a drop-out deadbeat with a leaky
heart,” he said, placing his empty glass on the counter.