by Angela Terry
If this is the real reason for our breakup, then this seems like a conversation we should have had earlier on in our relationship. I lean forward and say in a low voice, “Listen, you don’t get to be the good, considerate guy here. Having doubts doesn’t absolve you of what you did.” I put my hands on either side of the table to steady myself. “You cheated on me with my maid of honor.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I don’t even really know how it happened.” He finally looks suitably ashamed and I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay. I guess I do. I was getting cold feet. Stacey was always flirtatious with me, and, well, I don’t think the details matter. But then she told me she was pregnant and planned to keep the baby. You were going to find out everything, and so my only choice was to break up with you before the wedding. What else could I do?”
“But … but … ” I stammer, “you said you were in love with her? Are you in love with her?”
“I don’t know, Allison. But why does it matter? She’s the mother of my child.” He shakes his head with a pained expression. “Listen, I regret the way I handled everything, and I can’t apologize enough because I know I’m an asshole.”
Even though I want closure, I don’t want the details either. Whether they had a one-night stand or an ongoing affair, he’s right—at this point what does it matter? But I do want to know this—“But why Stacey? I mean, she’s basically me, isn’t she?”
“Nooooo. …” He shakes his head vehemently. “Stacey is nothing like you. Stacey is self-centered, selfish, strongly opinionated even when she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and makes her needs known.” He makes her sound like the female dog reference from that self-help book I read. “But it’s also that we have more in common, and I can imagine a life with her. She doesn’t want to explore the world. She’s happy sitting on a beach sipping a cool drink. And I don’t feel guilty if she wants to do something that I don’t because she just goes and does it.”
“Obviously.” I can’t help the crude thought that she wanted to do Neil, and so she did.
“None of this is an excuse, I know,” he says, his eyes apologetic and he leans forward to look me straight in the eye. “Allison, I apologize a million times over. You are the kindest, sweetest, greatest person I know, and you deserve someone who makes you happy. We were never going to be happy. You should be with someone where you can be yourself.”
He’s still a rat bastard for cheating on me, but everything he says is true. I wasn’t really happy. I was checking off the box that said, “Find a suitable mate.” Neil wasn’t a bad guy, at least he wasn’t until he cheated. But the thing is, after the shock of his betrayal, lately, without Neil I’ve felt a whole lot happier than I did during our relationship.
“For what it’s worth, Stacey wanted me to tell you she’s sorry.” He looks contrite on her behalf.
“For what it’s worth, she can call and tell me herself.” I lean back and cross my arms again. Whereas Neil had some redeeming qualities until we broke up, after reading that friendship book, I realized Stacey is the bad guy and always has been.
He nods understandingly and then swallows. “So this next part is awkward. But, uh, I was wondering if you still had the ring?”
“My engagement ring?” I ask suspiciously.
He rubs the back of his head, his nervous tick. “I hate to ask, but I was wondering if I could have it back? With the baby coming and all. …” He trails off and makes a grimace.
And there he is—the rat bastard shows his true colors. So much for any redeeming qualities.
“Sorry.” I hold up my arm. “But see this great tan? Turns out you did give me a great gift after all. I sold the ring to go to Costa Rica.”
His ears turn red. “I figured as much. But Stacey wanted me to ask.”
He’s already hiding behind her. What a coward. The two of them deserve each other.
“So this is goodbye,” I say. It’s a statement, not a question.
“For now. I mean, we still live in the same city so I’m sure we’re going to see each other again. You’re a good person and I hope someday we can be friends.”
“We’ll see.” I’m not friends with cheaters, but I let his comment slide. I started this relationship compromising with him, might as well end with it.
After a final awkward hug that I allow him, Neil offers to walk me out, but I shake my head. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Oh, okay. Bye, Allison.” He looks at me for a couple more seconds and then turns to go out the door.
Five years together with this person I’d thought I’d spend my life with, and now it’s as if a stranger just walked out the door.
Once he’s gone, Eric is there. He puts his hand on my shoulder again. “How are you?”
I turn to him and smile. “I’m good.” Meaning it, now that I’m looking at my new friend.
“Good. I couldn’t tell much from my vantage point, and while I tried to eavesdrop, customers kept interrupting me. How rude, right?”
I laugh. “So rude.”
He looks at my outfit appraisingly. “So what’s next? Are you headed somewhere?”
“No. Though I could use a drink after that.”
“Would you like some company?”
“Yes, please!” I press my palms together into a prayer position and Eric chuckles at my dramatic gesture.
“Okay. Can you wait about ten? Fifteen minutes?”
“Of course.”
While Eric goes to coordinate with his staff or whatever he’s doing, I take the time to text Jordan: Just got done meeting Neil.
How did it go? Want to talk?
It was fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. Going to have a drink with Eric now.
Good girl! Onto the next! LOL!
Ha! XO
I always find it endearing when Jordan laughs at her own jokes.
The numbness I felt watching Neil walk out the door is gone, and now every fiber in my body is buzzing, and I can’t stop grinning in anticipation of drinks with Eric. I’m not sure which sensation is more unsettling.
When I finish texting Jordan, I discreetly flip my iPhone camera into selfie mode to get a look at myself. Just then I feel a hand on my back and a voice, “Any spinach?” Eric leans over my phone and smiles into it.
“Ha-ha,” I say, busted. “I’m just checking my lip gloss.” Sometimes honesty is the best and easiest policy. “Ready?”
“Let’s do it,” he says and makes a sweeping gesture. “After you.”
WE SIT KITTY-CORNER from each other in one of the high-top corner booths at Maple & Ash and each order a glass of champagne.
After we’ve toasted and had our first sips, Eric asks, “So did you get the answers you wanted?”
“Yes. Even though it was tough to hear, he didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t figured out on my own. But maybe there’s some comfort in hearing him confirm it all.” Then I grin at Eric. “And thanks for checking up on me.”
“Ha! I wasn’t sure if I was interrupting or helping. I kept trying to pass by to hear what was going on.”
“Just some harsh truths, but I’m at fault too.”
He holds up his hand. “Sorry, but there’s never any excuse to cheat. That’s all on him.”
“Agreed. Let’s toast to that too. It’s all on Neil.” We clink and drink. “Honestly, though, Neil and I should’ve called it quits after the first year, but I just kept trying to make it work when we weren’t really right for each other. And it turns out, my determination to make it work made him determined too.”
“Weak sauce,” Eric interjects. “Though as a guy, I’ve been guilty of staying in what I knew were not long-term relationships when I knew they were looking for a ring. But eventually someone has to give up and move on.”
“So how did those relationships end?” I’m curious, but also a little weirded out by the idea of Eric dating.
“In exactly that way. If they wanted more and I couldn’t give it, then I jus
t said so. Sometimes they ended it with me or sometimes I ended it with them.” He shrugs.
“So how many women wanted a ring?” I tease him. He shrugs again and looks a little embarrassed. I get the sense that number is a lot. “Eric, are you a player?” I knock my shoulder against his to let him know that I’m just teasing him.
“What can I say? Women like guys in finance with nice condos.
However, women aren’t so into guys living with their mothers and trying to figure out their next steps.”
“What about guys who own coffeehouses?”
He bobs his head around in a way that says a little yes and a little no. “The jury’s still out.” He smiles at me.
Even though I’m teasing him, given our proximity and my knowledge that I’m completely over Neil, I can finally admit that the jury says I’m guilty as charged—I have a major crush on Eric. Unfortunately, I can divulge this only to myself, not to him. Therefore, I decide to end this discussion about dating and ask him about CrossFit, though this change of subject might sound a little flirtatious too. I’m not sure of much right now, except that I’m having a hard time keeping my hand steady whenever I reach for my glass.
Though he talks a little about his workout, Eric steers the conversation back to what happened at the coffeehouse.
“So no more fiancé and closure on that chapter. What’s next for you, then? Are you ready to start dating again?”
Sitting so close to Eric, I’m pretty sure I’m ready to start dating him. Oh boy, that would be trouble. I imitate his earlier yes/no bob of the head. “One step at a time.” I take a sip of my champagne.
“I can imagine that getting out of a five-year relationship you’d probably want to enjoy being single for a while.”
“I wouldn’t say enjoy is the right word. But I made some mistakes in my past relationship, and I don’t want to repeat them. So, yeah, I think right now I’m open to meeting new people, but I mostly want to focus on myself and getting my consulting business going.”
“Makes sense.”
We have an uncomfortable pause until I turn the conversation to business. “So, hey, I have this new idea.”
We talk a little shop and then talk about ourselves, mostly ribbing each other, and I try to treat him like any guy friend or client. Though I can’t stop admiring Eric’s arms and the way his jeans stretch across his thighs while he’s sitting next to me, and with each passing minute, I’m finding it harder to stay on my side of the booth.
After our drinks, Eric walks me home, even though we live in one of the safest neighborhoods in Chicago, and there are still plenty of people out and about. The closer we get to my place, the more my stomach flutters, and I’m not sure if it’s nerves or anticipation. I can’t help but wonder, Is he going to pull an Alistair move?
When we reach my building, he gives me a hug goodbye and I instinctually and needlessly run my hands over the sides of his shirt taking in his muscles. If I had hugged Jordan this way, she would accuse me of feeling her up. She would not be wrong.
When we pull away, I read Eric’s smile as a smirk. With his hands still resting on my shoulders, he leans in and my heart starts to pound. But he merely kisses me on the cheek and says, “Good night, Allison James.”
I walk into my building alone.
IN THE MORNING, I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing.
I see that it’s Eric and answer with a groggy and confused, “Hello?”
“Hey, I’m downstairs.”
“You’re downstairs?”
“Yeah, for our seven o’clock run. Remember?”
“No, I don’t remember. How much did I drink last night?”
He laughs. “Clearly enough to not remember our running date. But not enough to beg out of it.”
“O-kay,” I answer as my brain frantically tries to understand what’s happening. “Um, I need ten minutes.”
“I’ll be outside.”
I toss off the covers and head straight to the bathroom where I quickly brush my teeth, wash my face, and pull my hair into a ponytail. I likewise throw on my running gear and grab my keys and phone. I also down a large glass of water with an Advil for good measure.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Eric is standing outside my building looking bright and chipper and is wearing shorts. Even without my morning coffee, I can appreciate what’s in front of me. “Are you ready? A six-miler through the park and lakefront?”
“Uh, sure.” I’m a little rough the first mile and we take it slow until we hit our running groove in mile two.
It’s nice to run with someone else, and we make small talk noticing things around us. In particular, we run by a group of kids and adults all wearing Girls Run It T-shirts.
“That looks fun,” I comment. “I used to love doing events like that.”
“Maybe you should volunteer?”
“Maybe I should. I’ll check out their website later today.”
We end our run at The Cauldron where I get my usual latte, on the house since I’m “family” now. Brian comments, “Did you guys bump into each other running?”
“Nope. We made plans to run together,” I answer, and Eric suddenly starts laughing. “What?” I ask him.
“Don’t kill me, but we didn’t have plans. I had planned to run this morning and thought I’d see if you were up.”
“What?!” I hit him on the arm. It’s pure muscle. Eric simply laughs again. “What a jerk,” I say to Brian. “Can you believe this guy?”
“Unfortunately, I can.” Brian quips. “I’ll give you an extra shot so you can hit him harder.”
“But now you’ve just run six miles and have a cause to support. Plus, free coffee. You can’t really be mad,” Eric says, putting his hands out in an apologetic sorry-not-sorry gesture.
“True. I probably would’ve slept in, but now I’m full of endorphins and soon caffeine. You win.” I point my finger at his chest menacingly. “This time.”
“Understood.” He claps his hands once. “Okay, so I have to shower and then hit the box later this afternoon. Brian, what’s the news for today?”
I leave Brian and Eric to powwow while I walk home with my latte for my own shower.
THAT NIGHT AS Jordan and I sip our rosé in plastic cups on a picnic blanket at Grant Park while waiting for the movie Never Been Kissed to start, I tell her about my night and this morning with Eric.
Jordan is totally amused. “I’m going to have to stop by this coffeehouse and check out this Eric guy in person. Who does that? And who still likes someone who does that?”
“I know. Right?” But I still like him and Jordan knows it, though she is graciously not pressing the issue. “But because the universe is great and rewarding, while we were running we ran into Girls Run It and today I signed up to volunteer with them.”
“Good for you! That’s totally up your alley.” She clinks her plastic cup with mine. “Ah! It’s so good to get the old Allison back.”
The movie starts, and we settle onto the blanket to watch Drew Barrymore sitting with her crush on the Navy Pier Ferris Wheel under the Chicago night sky, and I let myself pleasantly daydream a little about my own blossoming crush.
A FEW WEEKS after checking out the Chicago Girls Run It website, I’m at my first volunteer session, where I meet their program director as well as their communications director. As we introduce ourselves and chitchat, I tell them how I’m excited because I always found community outreach to be the best part of doing public relations, and they’re equally excited by my PR background. Our conversation makes me realize that the whole time I was over at PR Worldwide, my tribe was out here. And while I don’t want to seem too forward since I’ve only officially volunteered as a running buddy, I offer any pro bono services or advice they may need in this regard.
The girl I’m partnered with for running is ten-year-old Gabriela. Since I’ve come on midseason and am replacing the previous volunteer who had to opt out because of recurring tendonitis, I’m a little nervous.
She’s kind of a big kid for her age and I would have guessed she was in junior high by her height. As someone who surpassed everyone’s height in my class at her age, I can relate. And although she stands out the most in her age group, she’s also the most shy. I’m a little out of practice with kids, but to break the ice I ask her where she goes to school and how long she’s been running. I also explain how it’s my first day and Gabriela promises to take care of me. And, this? This is why kids are awesome.
She’s new to running, and so we take everything at her pace, which is fairly slow and conducive to conversation.
“So what made you join Girls Run It?” I ask Gabriela.
“My mom.” She rolls her eyes and says this in a tone I instantly recognize and relate to.
I laugh sympathetically. “I see. And, so, why did she want you to join?”
“She thinks I spend too much time on the computer. She thinks I need to get outside more and get some exercise.” She’s breathing a little hard and pauses before continuing. “She doesn’t understand that I spend so much time on the computer because when I grow up I want to be a software engineer.”
“A software engineer! That’s great! I take it you’re good with math and coding.”
“Yeah. And I want to do something cool. Like make games or something that people love.”
“So, then, are you liking Girls Run It? Or would you rather be at home on your computer?” I shoot her a sly smile that she returns.
“It’s fine. I like the other girls, and I really like that it gets my mom off my back so I can spend the rest of the weekend on my computer without her saying anything.” She grins at me.
“Ha! I get it.”
As we practice, she tells me more about her family (it’s just her and her mother) and why her mother thought she would like this program to meet other kids outside of her school. By the end of our first run, I feel like Gabriela and I are going to be great friends.
Filled with adrenaline, I run straight from the park to The Cauldron without stopping at home to change. The first person I want to tell about my morning is Eric, not Jordan. I tell myself it’s because Eric was with me when I saw the group, but I know that it’s more than that. I find myself wanting to tell Eric everything first about everything, which is easy since I see him every day in the coffeehouse. We’ve also started doing a weekly morning run on Tuesdays and he’s invited me to check out his CrossFit box. I thought I was fit, and then I tried CrossFit and could barely lift my arms for a week afterwards. We’ve had dinner in the neighborhood a couple times, and I’ve brought him my healthy leftovers for lunch, and I’ve tried his new healthy bakery items to give him my opinion. It’s gotten to the point where Brian will joke when I walk through the door, “Eric, your girlfriend is here,” and I secretly like it. But, fortunately or unfortunately, everything has remained platonic between us.