Love And Miss Communication Part 25

"All right, but for the record, I am sorry," Evie continued, unwilling to let her expert placement of a rocking chair wholly absolve her wrongdoing.

"I get it, Evie. Here, let me show you some Maya pictures. We've gone a little camera-crazy." He pulled his iPad out from his messenger bag and starting scrolling through pictures.

Watching Paul at work, she craved feeling the smooth metal of her own Mac notebook. She missed being a touch away from her pictures. She longed to hear the rhythm of her fingertips tapping the keyboard. But more than anything, she wanted to check her e-mail. Jack said he was going to contact her about designing his restaurant. She wondered if he actually would, and if he did, would it even matter to her? What really mattered was that she had messed things up with her actual boyfriend. So why was she thinking more about Jack? It didn't make much sense.

But really, few things did anymore.

Chapter 19.

In the first weeks of January, during a freeze that weathermen were describing as the "Big Apple Chill," Evie could palpably feel the distance Edward was putting between them. He called to follow up on her electricity situation, but when he didn't suggest getting together, she was crestfallen.

It was hard not to wonder if Edward had diverted their relations.h.i.+p from the path to something serious to a fun interlude on the dating superhighway. The only stumbling block so far (at least in her mind) had been the macabre New Year's Eve dinner at JAK. Though she tried to suppress it, and even rewrite the course of the evening in her mind (especially the parts that were fuzzy from the alcohol), she knew all too well the way she had come across. Like a girl who wasn't over her ex. Who still got fl.u.s.tered in his presence. Who cared a little too much what he thought of her. Who had something to prove. Now she felt compelled to show Edward that she was wholly ready to commit to him, even if inside she was coming to wonder if Jack might always occupy at least a slice of her heart.

She surprised him at the hospital a few days later and took him to lunch at Spice on Second Avenue. Over coconut-curry soup and veggie dumplings, they talked about anything but Jack and New Year's Eve, and by the end of lunch, they seemed to have gotten back into their familiar rhythm. Back in his office, she produced a gift from her pocketbook.

"I have something for you." Evie paused before handing over the silver-wrapped package.

Edward looked at the small box curiously.

He peeled apart the silver paper, at first trying not to tear it but then getting impatient. His face glowed when he saw the present, a newspaper article framed in antique silver. To the corner of the frame Evie had affixed a sticky note that said, "Mine certainly did when we first held hands. xx, Evie."

"I really wanted to read some of your old science articles, but since I don't use the Internet, I couldn't find them. So I decided to go to the library and I tracked them down in the stacks. It was harder than it sounds. Anyway, I photocopied the one you wrote about whether hearts actually skip beats when people get excited." She tried to stifle her smile.

"Arrhythmic palpitations," Edward said, with a scholarly head bob.

"Exactly." Evie smiled. "The medical jargon is really hot." He could spout the most esoteric medical knowledge without being pedantic, unlike Jack, who spoke about reducing a sauce like it was designing a rocket s.h.i.+p.

"So I've been told. Seriously, though. This is amazing, Evie. I love it." He embraced her.

"I really hope you like it," Evie said, watching as he set up the frame next to Olivia's picture. She still felt anxious, though, and didn't want to wait for him to ask her out again.

"Are you free to see a movie this weekend?" she asked while his back was still turned.

"Definitely," he responded, and Evie could feel her fingers tingle.

"Oh, and guess what? If you had any doubt how much I respect your opinion, I have news for you."

"Really? What kind of news?"

"I'm going back to school. One day after visiting Bette, I dropped by the New York School of Interior Design to ask about their cla.s.ses. It's right on Seventieth Street on the East Side. It turns out they have a one-year certification program and Bette offered to pay part of my tuition. Apparently her was.h.i.+ng out Ziploc bags all those years led to some amount of savings. Edward-walking into the building, seeing the designers walking around with portfolio books, discussing their projects, I felt like I was finally in the right place. It was electrifying."

"That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you." He hugged her again.

"It was weird, just enrolling like that. The registrar was a little surprised when I asked if she needed to see my SAT score."

"Not everything has to be difficult," Edward said.

She was coming to learn that.

"And to be clear, this has absolutely nothing to do with redesigning JAK. I have no intention of doing that. I need you to know that."

"I trust you," Edward said, with a gentle squeeze of both of her shoulders and a peck on her forehead. "The design school is right near the hospital. We can meet for lunch."

She exhaled a deep breath of relief hearing his forward thinking. "Thanks. I start in September. Caroline ended up telling Jerome that I designed his office and he insisted on paying me for the work. He even hired me to remodel their guesthouse in the Hamptons. So with that and Bette's contribution I won't have trouble covering the tuition."

"And you balked the first time I suggested this to you," he said playfully. "Listen, I have to deliver grand rounds in twenty minutes. But I'm excited to hear more about this."

It was after seeing another romantic comedy, this one about a doctor falling in love with a hypochondriac so she keeps inventing things that might be wrong with him, that they did finally sleep together. Before the date, Evie had taken painstaking care to look great, splurging on a new minidress and ankle boots and having her hair professionally blown out. She waxed, plucked, shaved, combed, trimmed, and polished everything that needed attention. It felt a bit like going through a human car wash, but when Edward picked her up looking especially adorable in faded gray corduroys and a gray zip-up sweater, she was glad she had gone to the trouble.

Within minutes of returning home from their quick bite of pasta after the movie, her new dress and boots lay in a careless pile in her living room, her lace bra and panties resting on top like the cherry on a sundae. The s.e.x was even better than she expected it would be, the wait they had to endure to get to that moment only heightening the intensity. The first round was fast and ferocious, both of them desperate to explore the other's body, maybe even make sure they were as compatible s.e.xually as they were otherwise. Once that box was checked, they slowed down a bit, taking time to kiss and speak softly to each other in between pa.s.sionate embraces and rounds of lovemaking. She found their bodies fit like lock and key. Her head rested perfectly in the dip between his shoulder and chest. His feet reached just the right length under hers so he could tickle her toes with his. Each climax felt like putting in the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

Life was good.

The registrar at the New York School of Interior Design had said Evie was welcome any time to visit and collect materials for the upcoming semester. She could barely wait. With the syllabus and recommended reading list in hand, Evie walked home from the school in a happy fog. When she got to West Sixty-Sixth Street, she detoured left unexpectedly. Before she knew it, she was on the other side of the revolving door of The Hamilton, the building that housed the one-bedroom the broker Emmeline Fields had tried to entice her to see.

"Can I help you?" the doorman asked. He was dressed in a maroon and black uniform with gold ta.s.sels, as elegantly clad as a Buckingham Palace guard.

"Yes, in fact you can," Evie said. "There's a one-bedroom apartment for sale here. Or there was. Represented by Allman-White. I was wondering if I could see it. I don't remember the open house schedule."

"Sorry, ma'am. That apartment sold at the end of January. A couple with a new baby purchased it."

"Okay, thank you," she said, more disappointed than she thought she'd be.

"There is another apartment on the market," the doorman said, putting his hand on the door to keep her inside. "It's a two-bedroom. A great family apartment with river views. It's another Emmeline Field exclusive. I can ask the super to call up and see if anyone is home to show it to you."

Evie pictured Olivia's toile coc.o.o.n in Edward's town house. How she'd love to create something even more beautiful for her here, in this family apartment.

"Well, I don't have a family. Or a husband. Yet," Evie added, inexplicably confessing her personal life to the doorman. "I hope I will soon. And when I do, I'm coming here to look first."

"Good luck with that, miss."

"Thank you, sir. You can let Emmeline know I stopped by. Tell her I'm the one whose bag she found near the Brighton school. And that I'll be back."

"Will do. The building has a gym, a playroom, and a-"

"I'm so sorry," Evie said, ringing cell in hand. "I've got to take this."

She rushed out of the building, staring at the screen of her phone. Those ten digits. It had been a long time since she had seen them. But she'd never forget them.

"Jack," she said. "How are you?"

"I've been better, truthfully. I'm perplexed as to why you haven't returned any of my e-mails. I must have sent you half a dozen since I saw you on New Year's Eve. I've been checking my account constantly."

"Well, I'm sorry about that. I've been very busy with work," Evie said, proud that she didn't blame it on quitting the Internet. It was far more delicious to let Jack think she saw his e-mails and chose not to respond.

"No matter. Have you given thought to whether you'd like to help me with a remodel? It'd also be just nice to catch up. Our conversation was cut short at the restaurant-I didn't want to keep you away for too long from what's-his-name."

"Edward. His name is Edward."

"He seemed like a decent guy. You deserve it. Too bad you didn't meet Zeynup. She arrived just before midnight."

Was it too bad? Did he really want her to meet his wife? It didn't seem likely, if he was calling her now. Unless he s.a.d.i.s.tically wanted to rub it in her face, which didn't seem like Jack.

"Too bad. Listen Jack, what's going on?"

"Evie, we have a history together. I wanted to hear your voice. I won't bother you again if you don't want me to."

There was a long, pin-dropping pause.

"The food was delicious. On New Year's Eve," she said finally. "I have to admit that I missed it. You're really talented, Jack."

"Evie, it feels really nice to hear you say that. I always respected your opinion. You looked so beautiful that night. You missed my food, but I missed your face."

"Jack, I need to hang up now, okay? I think it's better that you find someone else to work on your restaurant."

"I understand, Evie. I hope you're happy. You're happy, aren't you?"

"I'm hanging up, Jack. Good-bye."

She was trembling when she put the phone back in her purse.

In her heart of hearts, she knew Jack was only calling her because she was unattainable. The question was whether she could fault him for it when she had been guilty of the same. Hadn't she been fixated on him in part because he refused to get married? These issues danced in her head like an unrelenting tap routine, supplanting any of the joy she'd been feeling about design school moments earlier.

"Miss?" the doorman at the Hamilton poked his head outside. "Emmeline Fields just came through the back entrance of the building. Do you want me to ask her to show you the two-bedroom?"

"Not now," she said, and took off down the street without looking back.

Evie wasn't totally shocked when Edward asked if they could get together to talk a few weeks after Jack called. They had been out twice more but she was preoccupied on the dates, fidgeting when she should have been still, silent when she should have been conversing. Even during s.e.x she felt like she was floating up above it, looking down at their coupling through a haze. The worst was when Olivia bounded into Edward's living room dressed as Peppa Pig. "It's my favorite show," Olivia said, diving for Evie's lap. Finally Evie understood the provenance of her British accent. "That's nice," she replied, with about a quarter of her typical effusiveness. When she looked up from her magazine moments later, she found Edward whispering something into a forlorn Olivia's ear.

She met Edward in Central Park on a Sunday morning. She arrived early, admired the glistening snow on the treetops from a park bench, and tried to let the cold wind flush her mind. The park was the place where Evie found peace after she went off-line, where long walks eased her Internet addiction and helped her digest the reality of Jack's marriage. But it wasn't a panacea, and when Edward arrived right on time, she wasn't at all calm about what he would say or prepared for what she herself would tell him.

"Evie, you know I'm crazy about you," Edward started off. "I don't play games or pretend otherwise."

"But . . ." Evie heard him continue in her head, waiting for the thud of the proverbial other shoe.

"And I'm going to keep being truthful with you. I want a future with you. But I feel like something is holding you back," he said. The wind was blowing his sandy hair, and the flap of his overcoat was beating up and down. Evie noticed that he left almost a foot between them on the bench, like he was pulling away physically as well as emotionally from her. "I love you. I haven't said it formally yet, though I hope you already knew it. But I need to hear how you feel. And where you see this going. I need to know Jack is out of the equation."

In the dark days following her breakup with Jack, she might have toyed with exploiting her sense of power over a man with coy and ambivalent answers. But a full year had pa.s.sed and she had changed. Edward had changed her. Being with Edward, or Jack for that matter, wasn't about s.h.i.+fting her Facebook status from "single" to "in a relations.h.i.+p" or never having to go on another blind date. It was about finding happiness and discovering what real love is-building a merger unlike any she had been a part of at Baker Smith, where she always felt at arm's length from the outcome. If she and Edward were going to move forward, it would need to be with a full investment and the results would really matter-to them. And now he was asking her what she wanted for the long term, maybe even forever.

Edward Gold was the most thoughtful, sincere, earnest, and caring man she'd ever dated. And he had the other stuff too-the looks and the job and the pedigree she used to fixate on, and probably always would to some extent. But something about getting what she had always wanted was making her question if it would be enough for her. Maybe that was the pull of Jack all along. He never made her settle on a long-term plan. By always making her think marriage was out of the question, she'd automatically decided it was something she desired because she never had to see the consequences through. Or perhaps it was something else, something darker keeping her from forging a life with Edward. Maybe she wasn't sure she deserved the best. Clearly Edward was picking up on her issues, which scared her. She didn't want to lose him because of her own craziness.

"I'm very happy with how things are going," Evie said truthfully, and put her hand on his knee, trying to bridge the s.p.a.ce between them. "I feel so blessed that you've come into my life."

Edward looked relieved. She could tell because his dimple made an appearance for the first time in the conversation.

"Evie, I want you to be as happy as I am," he said, and scooched over so he could put his arm around her.

"I am," Evie said, "I promise. And I love you too." She rested her head on his shoulder. To anyone pa.s.sing by in the park, they were the portrait of bliss.

"And Jack?" Edward asked.

Evie tugged at her scarf, tightening the strings around her index finger until it puffed up.

"He has been in touch," Evie said, not wanting to elaborate further, even though she had no right to keep it to herself.

"I figured as much. And?" Edward pressed her.

"And I think he might want me back. But I'm with you now, and that's what I told him." Evie exhaled deeply after uttering those words. They felt very final, which frightened her though she knew it shouldn't.

"Good," was all he said in response. Maybe that was enough for him, Evie marveled. It wouldn't be enough for her. But Edward was her complement, not her mirror image.

"I want to explain a little bit more about why I quit the Internet. I gave it kind of short shrift at JAK and you deserve more than a half-a.s.sed version of the truth," she said. She swiveled to face Edward squarely. "Like I started to tell you, I found out that Jack got married by looking at pictures of someone I barely know on Facebook. I ended up throwing up on my computer in the midst of trying to Google his wife. I was nervous about telling you that he married someone else after he and I broke up. Like that would diminish me in your eyes. Let's see what else. I lost my job because I was always sending personal e-mails instead of working. I researched the wrong guy before a blind date and got called out on it. An industry blog ridiculed me. I stalked ex-boyfriends. I measured myself against other women's photographs and resumes. I relied on dating websites to meet people when it was really just an excuse for me to avoid putting the real me out there. I could go on."

"I thought it might be something like that. Listen, Evie, I get it. My ex-wife and I battled over Twitter, inviting the world to take sides in our divorce. The Internet is a crazy place."

"It certainly is."

"There's good stuff too, though. Olivia and I use FaceTime when she's at Georgina's place. Do you know how grateful I am for that? Plus I can review X-ray imagery from patients around the world. And when you're ready for e-mail again, I have some pretty awesome forwards that have gotten pa.s.sed around the hospital."

"I'll let you know when I'm ready," Evie said and placed her hand on top of Edward's. She pulled him to standing.

"Let's walk a little," she said. "I heard on the news the groundhog didn't see his shadow."

"Oh good," Edward said. "I love spring."

"Spring's my birthday," Evie said, unable to believe she was going to be thirty-five in a few months.

"I know," Edward said. "We'll do something special to make you feel better about getting so old." He tickled the inside of her wrist playfully.

They started to walk hand in hand down the famous elm tree path, the personification of perfection. But the demons just wouldn't quit.

"Edward, I do love you." She stopped walking. "But I need some time."

She broke her hand free and headed off in a different direction, leaving Edward and possibly her entire future behind her, surrounded by elms that were due to get their leaves back soon.