“Crazy marketing scheme by this book distributor, am I right?” I asked. I felt vaguely ill. Me, the one who didn’t lie, was now blatantly lying to my best friend. Ugh.
“Really?” Bri asked. She picked up the book and studied the pages. “This is exquisite.”
I wanted to snatch it from her hands and hug it to my chest. Instead, I carefully removed it and put it back in the box. Knowing how to distract her, I asked, “And how was dinner with Tristan?”
Bri collapsed back into the chair across from my desk. “Amazing. I had no idea dating could be this—”
“Romantic?” I offered, staring down at my book.
“Exactly!” Bri cried. “Honestly, I think I finally understand what the poets have been writing about all these years.” She grinned and pushed out of the seat. “Staff meeting at ten, see you then?”
“Of course,” I said.
I waited until the door closed behind her to pick up the book, and studied each page. I read the note, again, and put the flower in a tall glass with water, then placed it on the windowsill. Once I’d settled in with these signs of affection, I realized I needed to call Al or text him, at the very least. I took my phone out of my purse and opened up the contacts. Then I sat and stared at the message window. I had no idea what to say.
Thank you seemed insufficient, but I didn’t want to be over the top either. Dilemma.
Finally, I texted him a simple but heartfelt thank you for the beautiful book. The floating dots appeared instantly on the screen as he texted back.
You’re welcome. I thought you’d appreciate a fairy tale that wasn’t love at first sight.
Good thing I was sitting because I would have collapsed right then and there. How did he know me so well in such a short span of time? I had no idea. He then asked me to meet him that night, to which I replied yes, of course.
I desperately wanted to race down to Bri’s office and talk to her about Al, but I didn’t want her to dismiss him because he didn’t meet her new criteria. I debated but then noticed it was almost ten. Time for the staff meeting, so that was that. Truthfully, I was happy to keep Albert George my little secret for just a bit longer.
I don’t know the precise moment I fell completely in love with Al. Maybe it was the afternoon we got caught in a downpour and had to escape the rain in the doorway of a small Asian-fusion restaurant. When the rain wouldn’t relent, we ended up going inside to eat just to get out of the cold. At the end of the meal, my fortune cookie read: You have found that which you’ve been seeking.
Of course, I showed it to Al to see what he thought. He was seated next to me in the booth. His black hair was drying in unruly waves and dark stubble was just sprouting on his chin. I wanted to run my fingers over his square jaw. I didn’t.
“Well,” he said. “That is a very intuitive biscuit.”
I smiled. “Truly, how did it know I was seeking more green tea?” I reached for the teapot and peered inside. “And there it is.”
He laughed. There was a wicked glint in his eye as he pulled me toward him across the booth’s bench seat and kissed me soundly.
“Ever the romantic,” he teased. Oh, my heart, if he only knew.
Or maybe it was the day we were crossing Fifth Avenue and when we reached the curb, there was a terrible ruckus coming from behind us. We turned to see a little old lady stuck halfway across the street as the light changed. Cabs and cars and delivery trucks honked, windows were rolled down, and people shouted. The poor woman was hoofing as fast as her stout body could carry her. Albert took one look at the chaotic scene and dashed back into the road.
“Al!” I cried. I was fairly confident that she wouldn’t get run over but I seriously doubted the cabbies would avoid him—in fact, they’d probably aim for him.
He met the tiny woman halfway across and then instead of simply escorting her, he swooped her into his arms. The woman let out a yip of surprise as he hustled, knees to chest, back to the sidewalk. Several cars honked and that sweet little old lady raised her arms and flipped them a double bird over Al’s shoulders.
A shocked laugh burst out of me, and I noticed several other people on the sidewalk had stopped to watch Al, too. They were also laughing.
Al put the old woman down. He was short of breath but managed to ask, “Are you all right?”
The little lady reached up and patted his cheek. “I’m just fine thanks to you, pumpkin. God bless you.”
“And you, as well,” he said.
She grinned and nudged him with her elbow. “He already has.” With a wink, the old lady shuffled on down the sidewalk.
Al threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. He kissed the top of my head as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to come back to me after he was done being a hero.
Small wonder that was the first night we spent together. Al gallantly walked me home and before he could leave to go back to the train, I grabbed him by the lapels and yanked him into my building. I pushed him up against the mailboxes and kissed him as if I was giving him the breath of life. When we finally broke apart, his bright blue gaze met mine and his crooked smile turned smoking hot.
“Are you sure, love?” he asked.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I said.
It’s not that I was sex starved exactly, although it had been a while. It was more that I was drowning in feelings that I wasn’t accustomed to having and all at the same time. It was a tsunami of fondness, affection, lust, and desire. I thought sex would be a great way to work them all out and regain my equilibrium. It wasn’t.
Instead of sex purging the feelings, that moment when we were skin to skin and he was sliding into me was the purest connection of like seeking like—the level of intimacy stripped my soul more naked than my body. Given that I didn’t have a stitch on, that was saying something.
Rather than freeing those emotions, they multiplied with each orgasm and got locked down deep until I felt as if Al was actually a part of me. The third morning that I woke up with him wrapped around me, I discovered, to my horror, that I was ass over teapot in love with him.
This was so much more than I had bargained for the night I agreed to show him the city. Should I tell him how I felt? Wait for him to say it to me first, assuming he felt the same? I studied his handsome face while he slept. It would be so easy to freak out, knowing how vulnerable my feelings made me.
He let out a gentle snore and I smiled. Despite being from another country, Al was regular people like me. He was moderate in his spending—except for books— although, I’d had to let him pay for some of our meals and outings because he’d said my insistence on paying was damaging his self esteem.
Like me, he enjoyed simple pleasures like walks in the park as opposed to expensive dinners at Masa. His hands were big and strong with calluses. Al was no pampered rich boy like my ex. I felt as if my feelings would be safe with him, still, I wasn’t ready to tell him.
I could wait. When the perfect moment came, I would know and if I got really lucky, he would say it first.
“I take it your home isn’t this busy?” I asked.
Al and I were holding hands and strolling through Midtown, which was more of a dodge and weave than a stroll, but he’d wanted to see Times Square.
“No,” he said. “I live in the county of Somerset. The population of the nearest town, Bath, is less than one hundred thousand.”