“You’re more of a gentleman than you were when I first met you,” I said as I sat down in the chair he had pulled out for me.
“I don’t know why you say that specifically, but I have no doubt that is probably a fair observation.”
It’s a remarkable thing what a little touch of contentment can do for a person. I was no longer searching—for anything, really—and so I no longer felt the need to keep a section of myself quarantined so that it couldn’t be destroyed. I suppose I’d been that way for a while, but until lunch that day I hadn’t taken my new perspective on life out for a test run. Truthfully, I was a bit fascinated by myself. In so many ways it was as if the lunch served the purpose of me getting to know myself, every bit as much as getting to know Caleb.
But there was one thing I already knew about myself by the time I sat down in that chair he pulled out for me: whether or not he and I ever amounted to anything more than a lunch, I was going to be myself from beginning to end. And I wanted the same from him, even if I discovered he wasn’t a leading man. Even if I discovered he was.
I smiled. “I’m a lot older than you.”
“I know,” he said, returning the smile.
“To be honest, though, the age difference felt like a bigger thing a year ago.”
“Because you’ve realized it doesn’t matter? Or because the last time we met I had all the depth of a frat boy, freshman year?”
“Oh yeah. Definitely the latter.”
“Figured.” His chuckle carried over as the waiter approached and took our drink orders.
“So, what’s changed?” I asked when we were alone again.
He took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. “I got my heart broken.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. It was for the best. Not only did it make me less of a frat boy, it also made me start a new career. A career I love.”
I scrunched up my face. “I don’t follow.”
“It was someone I worked with.”
“It wasn’t Fiona, was it?” I asked, fearing the answer. “Tell me she wasn’t the one who broke your heart.”
“What? Fiona?” He laughed heartily. “No. It wasn’t Fiona. Fiona terrified me.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “Understandably. I’ve known that woman almost her entire life, but that day at 90 Craic I saw a side of her I hadn’t known existed.”
“Interesting.” His laughter continued. “That’s the only side I ever saw. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t my biggest fan.”
A phone began ringing, and it took me a moment to realize it was mine. By the time I did, there were so many eyes on me that I dared not take the time to excuse myself to answer the call, so I just quietly apologized to Caleb and answered.
“You were supposed to call me!” Fiona yelled into my ear. “How did it go? Were you a huge hit? Does everyone love you? Of course they love you. Did you get to meet Melissa Joan Hart?”
I rolled my eyes for my date’s benefit as I turned away slightly, not wanting to unearth any PTSD symptoms for him by telling him who was on the phone. “Why would I get to meet Melissa Joan Hart?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t she on the Heartlite Network a lot? If not, she should be.”
“I’ll see what I can do about that, but listen, now’s not a great time—”
“That’s fine. I just wanted to tell you I’m heading out for a meeting with Gus in about five minutes, but as soon as that’s over, I should be able to get away, and I can meet you—”
I spoke through clenched teeth. “I am not going to Mugs & Shots.”
“Fine, then I’ll go.”
“Fine. It’s a free country.” She was making me testy. “If you want to waste your day waiting for Hamish MacDougal to show up, you go ahead. But I’m choosing to live in a realm known as reality. Talk to you tonight.” I clicked the button to end the call and then silenced my phone before throwing it back into my purse. “I’m sorry about that,” I said, returning my attention to Caleb.
“No, it’s fine. Though I have to admit I’m curious . . .”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. That was Fiona. She really is the greatest person in the world, but certain things seem to bring out the worst in her.”
He smiled at me and leaned in. “I have no doubt that’s true. I think I must be one of those things. But I actually meant I was curious about the Hamish MacDougal comment.”
“Oh. It’s the stupidest thing.” I smiled and waved my hand dismissively. “I met him in a coffeehouse ten years ago today. It was before he was anybody—well, he’d been in a Bond movie—and long story short, we kind of hit it off and made this ridiculous little pact to meet back at the same coffeehouse in ten years. So, today. I was working on a screenplay, and he said he would be in my movie . . . yada yada. It’s so stupid.”
The waiter placed our drinks in front of us and I sipped at my iced tea as I began looking at the menu. Caleb just kept staring at me inquisitively. “I probably would have forgotten all about it, except I kept bumping into him through the years. Always on February 4,” I added.
“Hamish MacDougal? You kept bumping into Hamish MacDougal?”
“Yes. But I never even talked to him, so it’s not like that’s a big deal. I would just see him places.”
The waiter came back to take our order. As soon as that business was out of the way, Caleb resumed his questioning. “‘Places’? Like what sorts of places?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The airport once. But I don’t think I’ve ever been to LAX and not run into a celebrity.”
“I sat next to Neil Patrick Harris at the domestic terminal courtyard Sbarro once,” he said with a smile and a shrug.
“Exactly! If you can eat stromboli next to Doogie Howser, then anything is possible.”
He grinned. “Okay, where else?”
“Well, there was this one time that he bid on me in an auction. But it wasn’t like the bachelorette auctions you see on TV or anything. It was just for one dance. And all the money went to build wells in Yemen or something. So, yeah, Hamish bid on me there. But so did George Clooney and Ralph Fiennes, and they all ended up losing to my ex-boyfriend, so nothing came of that, obviously. I think Fiona just gets caught up in it all because she’s such a romantic sap at heart. She wants to believe it was destiny or fate or something.” I chuckled as I reflected on the absurdity of it all.
He tilted his head and rested his chin on his folded hands. “Can I be honest?” he asked softly. When I nodded that he could, he said, “If I didn’t know that Heartlite performs extensive background checks and testing for their management positions, I would question your sanity.”
I laughed a little louder than I meant to, and though he smiled in response, he didn’t seem any more certain of my psychological wellness. “I know,” I agreed. “It does all sound a little crazy, I guess. But I promise it’s true.”
“No, I don’t mean it sounds crazy that it happened—although, sort of. I mean it sounds crazy that you don’t think it’s any big deal.”
“The truth is it has been a big deal, Caleb. All of it. I mean, every February 4 for ten years has had this ‘fate cloud’ hanging over it, and at times it was tough to ignore. But now I feel like it’s finally over, and I just want to move on.”
Our waiter set my cobb salad and Caleb’s turkey club and fries in front of us and we began eating. At least I did. I looked up at him between bites and saw he was staring at me.
“What?” I asked with a mouthful of lettuce.
“He could be there. Right now.”
I laughed unenthusiastically. “No. I don’t think so.”
“But he could be.”
Good grief. I had another one on my hands? “I suppose it’s possible, but come on. It was ten years ago. He’s a big star now. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t thought about me once since then.”
“Apart from the night he took on George Clooney, Ralph Fiennes, and your ex-boyfriend, you mean.”
I wince
d. “Apart from then.”
“It’s just like Sleepless in Seattle,” he said, unwrapping his utensils and placing his napkin on his lap.
“In what way?” I questioned as I resumed my munching.
“You’ve seen it, right?”
“Eh. Probably. I’m not much of a rom-com girl.”
He let out a deep breath, and I could detect his disappointment in me. It was too bad he and Fiona didn’t like each other. Just think of all the hours they could spend watching Miss Congeniality together.
“Okay, so Meg Ryan hears Tom Hanks on the radio, talking about his dead wife. He’s in Seattle, she’s in . . . I don’t remember. East Coast somewhere. She feels a connection to him and writes him a letter, which his kid intercepts. The kid wants her to be his new mom. But then they keep missing each other.”
“Meg Ryan and the kid?”
“No, Meg and Tom. But she had said they should meet on Valentine’s Day, on the top of the Empire State Building—”
“Like An Affair to Remember!” I interjected, happy to discover something about the conversation I could identify with.
“Yes! Exactly. That’s kind of the point, actually.” He stared at me as he chomped on a fry. “You do know that Sleepless in Seattle is a total homage to An Affair to Remember, don’t you?”
Don’t get all judgy, just because you’re cute. “Anyway . . .”
He grinned. “So anyway, she said they should meet at the top of the Empire State Building, but then she convinces herself that he doesn’t care, or even know who she is, and that there’s absolutely no chance he’ll be there, so she decides to forget all about it. Then on Valentine’s Day she’s having dinner in New York with her fiancé, Bill Pullman.”
“He was good in Sommersby.”
“And they have this great view of the Empire State Building, and the side of it lights up with a heart—I think that was then, but it may have been later—and she tells him the whole story, certain that he’ll think she’s crazy. But all he says is, ‘So he could be there now.’ And he convinces her she has to go, just to see.”
“And he was there?” I asked, somewhat intrigued in spite of my most valiant attempts at cynicism.
“Of course he was there. It’s a Tom and Meg movie. They aren’t going to build up to all of that and then—”
“Well, sorry. I thought if it was an homage to An Affair to Remember, maybe Meg got hit by a bus or something.”
The smile returned to his lips. “Did you seriously just pull out Sommersby as your Bill Pullman reference?”
“What’s wrong with Sommersby?”
“Nothing,” he said, momentarily shaking his head, but then he stopped. “Actually, that’s not even true. There’s lots wrong with Sommersby. And when most people think of Bill Pullman, they think of Independence Day. Maybe While You Were Sleeping.” He laughed in response to the disgust displayed on my face at the mention of While You Were Sleeping. As I joked every time Fi mentioned the film, while I was sleeping was while I was watching the movie. “You weren’t kidding. You’re not a rom-com fan, are you?”
“How can anyone truly identify with those things? They’re so detached from reality.”
“Unlike your husband going to war as Bill Pullman and coming back as Richard Gere, or whatever Sommersby is about. That’s relatable.” He kept his eyes on me as he took another big bite of his sandwich and swallowed it down. “You write for Heartlite.”
“Yes, and I’m going to raise the standard.”
“Of course. So tell me, what are your favorite movies?”
“Amadeus, Death Takes a Holiday, The Shawshank Redemption. The Elephant Man was pretty good.”
He laughed and wiped off his mouth, then threw his napkin on the table. “Background check or no background check, you’ve lost your mind. Sleepless in Seattle is literally the plot line of your life today, and you identify with The Elephant Man? Look, I know I’m new to this ongoing saga in your life, and I may not have the right to contribute my opinion, but allow me to be your Bill Pullman. He could be there right now, and I think you need to go, just in case.” He stood from his chair. “I’m running to the restroom. When I get back, I’m going to convince you. You’ll see.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “If I can withstand ten years of nagging by Fiona Mitchell, I think I can handle whatever you throw at me.”
I watched him walk away with a bounce in his step and then pulled out my phone with a resigned laugh. Caleb was cute. I liked Caleb. I was even a little attracted to Caleb. Caleb and I could probably be good friends. And if not for the fact that they couldn’t stand each other, I might have been wondering if Caleb and Fiona were MFEO.
“MFEO?” I muttered under my breath. “Where did that come from?” Made for each other. I meant made for each other.
I prepared to text Fi to tell her I’d found her a romance junkie brother-in-arms, but before I could get that far I had to read about a dozen texts she had sent to me.
You will not believe this.
Guess who Gus and I are meeting with? Guess! I’ll even give you three hints . . .
It’s Feb. 4.
We’re not meeting with Liam or Malcolm. Or George Clooney.
He’s Scottish.
I’m not even kidding, Livi. We’re in a car right now on our way to meet with Hamish about a film he wants 90 Craic to produce.
We’re in Culver City. FREAKIN’ CULVER CITY!!
Why aren’t you texting me back??? TEXT ME!!
He’s in the car. HAMISH IS IN THE CAR!
Gus said he wants coffee. OLIVIA ROSS, YOU LISTEN TO ME! I’ll get him there. You need to be there too. You can walk there from your office.
BE THERE!
Hmm. Well, admittedly, all of that made me a little less resolute about my “Ironic Day is a thing of the past” convictions.
“Now, where was I?” Caleb resumed as soon as he returned to the table.
I leaned in and whispered with urgency. “He’s there. I mean, he’s going to be there.” I looked down at my phone and pulled up Fiona’s newest text as I felt it buzz in my hands. It was a blurry shot of Hamish standing across from a barista, ordering coffee. The angle made it clear Fi had snuck the shot from behind. Great. I’d turned her into a paparazzo.
“He’s there.” I turned my phone to show Caleb.
His jaw dropped. “That’s Hamish MacDougal.”
I tittered nervously. “I’m aware!”
“Where . . . I mean, how did—”
“Fiona and Gus are meeting with him about a movie, and apparently Gus wanted coffee. From there, I can only assume Fi told them she knew the perfect place.” I laughed at the ridiculousness of my brazen best friend.
“That’s the coffee shop you met him at ten years ago?”
“Yep.” I chewed on lettuce so my jitters would have something to do, but I neither tasted nor swallowed.
“And where is that?” he asked. “You have to go! My car’s back at the garage, but I can drive you. Or do you want me to call a cab?” He pulled out his phone, prepared to do so. “Where is it? Where do you need to go?”
I stopped chewing, and heat rose to my cheeks as a few navigational facts dawned on me. I hadn’t been there in years—not since my last date with Liam—though it had been my regular place when Fi and I lived on Venice Boulevard. When I had first been going into the Heartlite offices every day. When . . .
I was too embarrassed to speak, so I just pointed behind him. His eyes grew wide and his mouth flew open as he whipped around in his chair and looked out the window at the coffeehouse directly across the street from us.
“You’re kidding me!” He leaned in and grabbed my hands. “You have to go. You just have to. It’s a little too ironic not to. Don’t you think?”
That was the moment. Right then. That was the exact moment when I chose to believe my life could be a romantic comedy after all. Because he was right, as Liam had been right, as Alanis had been right. It was all incredibly ironic.
And at a certain point, didn’t it seem more far-fetched to believe that it was all just coincidence? At a certain point, didn’t I have to admit to myself that I didn’t even know why I was resisting? At a certain point, didn’t it all have to begin to seem . . . possible?
I gasped as the tears began rushing from my eyes, attempting to wash away the romantic-comedy imagery that my mind had allowed me to envision for the briefest of moments. But it would never be washed away. Never again. I knew it was a long shot, but once the gates of impossible scenarios had been opened, they were opened wide.
“What would Meg Ryan do, Caleb?” I asked as I scurried to gather my things.
He smiled the warmest smile and said, “Meg Ryan would go get coffee.”
I jumped up and crossed the table to kiss him on the cheek, and then I ran out of the bistro and looked for the nearest crosswalk. I was so grateful that An Affair to Remember was fresh in my mind, because as the traffic never seemed to end, I was tempted to run into the street and take my chances. But that hadn’t ended well for Deborah Kerr, so I waited.
Finally, I got permission to walk, and I ran across in Fi’s Jimmy Choos. When I reached the door, I took a deep breath before going inside and beginning the process of surveying every corner of the crowded coffeehouse.
I wasn’t prepared for it to be so unchanged. How had the world and I changed so much, and yet this one building that had been the setting of the events that had shaped the last ten years of my life was almost exactly the same? I looked first to the table where Liam and I had sat and laughed. Where he had sung. Where we had kissed. Where it had ended. Nine years later, another couple sat there and laughed, and the sight stung my eyes. I cast my wet, burning eyes across the room, until they landed on the couch. The couch itself was new, but it sat in the same spot. Gone was Hipster Cowboy, replaced by an elderly gentleman reading a book. Gone was the aspiring screenwriter with her notebook full of ideas, replaced by a businesswoman feverishly typing on her laptop while talking on her Bluetooth. And gone was Hamish MacDougal grabbing a quick cup of coffee and a moment of peace before an audition, replaced by . . .
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