WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR: a nostalgic romantic comedy (Boston Classics Book 1)

by Karen Grey

  Callie.

  WILL

  My eyes fluttering open, swimming up to the surface of consciousness, I’m still halfway holding onto a very strange dream. Something to do with a couple of teens in our kids’ program getting married and I’m supposed to officiate, but there was a problem with them carrying swords?

  Letting it go, I take in the darkness of my room. My clock says 7:25. A.M. or P.M.? And what day is it? Memories slowly drift to the front of my brain. Coming back to my room in the middle of the party, desperately in need of my bed. Shoving earplugs in my ears and drawing the blackout curtains. I guess I finally got some sleep.

  My bladder says the nap was a long one, but when I swing my legs off the side of the bed, a noise behind me snaps my attention to a sheet-covered form huddled by the wall. Did Kate come over? I close my eyes again, but I don’t remember seeing her at the party.

  I don’t think I had much to drink, but my brain’s still fuzzy, so it’s a struggle to remember everything that happened over the weekend. Friday’s night of shooting the film hadn’t been enough, so we’d been at it again Saturday night. After getting home at five this morning, I got a couple hours of sleep before Deb and Pam started clanging around with party prep. So over the whole weekend, I got about six hours of sleep. The party started at noon, I had a couple beers. Sometime in the early afternoon, I was falling asleep on the couch mid-conversation with someone, so I came back here to take a nap.

  Kate must’ve come over at some point and climbed into bed with me.

  Quietly throwing on some clothes, I duck out to the bathroom. The party’s still going on, though it seems to have wound down. The hall isn’t choked with people, anyway. Maybe I’ll wake Kate her favorite way.

  Back in my room, I quietly shuck off my clothes off again, ready for some good old-fashioned makeup sex. When I lift the sheet to slide back in bed, however, the head of hair revealed isn’t straight and brown. It’s wavy and blonde.

  What the fuck?

  A whimper, and the body turns over.

  It isn’t Kate.

  It’s Callie.

  What. The. Fuck?

  “Callie! What are you doing here?”

  She moans. “Stop yelling at me. Ugh.” She rolls over and pulls the sheet over her head.

  “Callie. What are you doing in my bed?”

  “I don’t know. I came to surprise you, but you were asleep. I was tired so I joined you.”

  “Well. You need to go. Now.”

  She yawns and stretches and the sheet drops, revealing her naked torso. “Are you sure? We could fool around.” She reaches out, trailing a finger down my thigh. “You’re looking pretty yummy right now.”

  I step back and throw on my clothes. “No, thank you, Callie. I’m seeing someone else.” I think. I’m not sure what’s happening between us but I’m not getting into that right now. “I’m leaving the room. When I get back, you need to be gone.”

  I close the door as she mumbles, “You don’t need to be an asshole about it. Jeez.”

  Hoping there’s food left, I head to the kitchen. I’m suddenly starving.

  Five minutes later, as I pick at half-filled platters of grilled ribs and chicken, Deb walks in.

  “Good party?” I ask, mouth full.

  She flops into a chair. “Yeah, but I’m exhausted.” She looks around the kitchen. “Have to start cleaning up soon.”

  She doesn’t move, a tired but satisfied smile on her face. Deb does love to throw a party. Then her brow furrows. “What happened with Kate?”

  I swallow. “I told you. We’re taking a break. Or something. I’m not sure. I might call her tomorrow.”

  “No, I mean. She was here. Then she left.”

  I look up from perusing the platter. “She was here? When?”

  “Like, four o’clock? We chatted, and then she went looking for you in your room. Two minutes later she practically ran out of the house. I tried to ask her if something was wrong, but it was so crowded she probably didn’t hear me. And then I got distracted with a baking emergency. I guess the oven timer had been going off for like fifteen⁠…”

  As Deb goes on about a burned pan of brownies, the meat I’d just scarfed down drops to the pit of my stomach along with a big pile of dread.

  “There’s nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.”

  Feeling more like Desdemona than Hamlet, I grab the keys to my bike.

  “Hey! Where are you going?” Deb calls after me.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I yell back, hoping I’ll have a comedic story to share rather than a tragic one.

  Halfway to Kate’s place, it starts to rain. I slow the bike to be safe, but I’m not turning around. It’s perfect weather for my state of mind, anyway.

  “Will. What are you doing here?”

  I jerk upright. Once I got to Kate’s place, the skies had really opened up. She wasn’t home, so I sat on the stoop to wait for the weather to pass. I must’ve fallen asleep.

  She’s at the bottom of the steps, mad as a wet hen. As soaked as one, too.

  I stand shakily, hand on her front door to steady myself. “Can I talk to you?” I ask, my voice scratchy.

  She just stares at me, chest heaving, and I realize she’s covered in mud on one side. “Uh, are you okay?”

  “Well, depends on what you’re talking about.” She indicates her dirty shirt, shorts and legs with a brisk gesture. “I got splashed by a truck that drove through a mud puddle right next to me. So I really need a shower. If you’re talking about this”—she draws a sharp line back and forth between us—“I thought we were taking the weekend to think things over. I didn’t think that included sleeping with other people.”

  So she did see Callie in my bed. Fuck.

  “Excuse me, I would like to go inside my house.”

  I let her pass but block her front door with my hand when she tries to close it in my face. “Kate, please.”

  Her eyes are blazing when they meet mine. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to apologize.”

  I drop my arm, blowing out a breath. “What you saw this afternoon? Please believe me, it wasn’t what you think.”

  She huffs out a bitter laugh, looking anywhere but at me. “Isn’t that how these explanations always begin?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m sorry you saw what you saw and that it hurt you. But—here’s what happened.” I take a big breath and then let it out again. It feels like I only have one chance and I want to get this right, but my mind is still foggy.

  “Can you make it quick? This is really uncomfortable. The mud. But also the conversation.” Jaw clenched, she hugs herself, eyes on the floor.

  “Sure.” I shove my hands in my pockets, clenching them. “Short story is that I was awake for, I don’t know, like two days straight because the movie and everything. Middle of the party, I went to lie down for a few minutes, and next thing I know I’m waking up and it’s dark and Callie is in bed next to me, passed out. I had no idea that she was even in town, I swear.”

  Her eyes dart up to mine.

  “Somehow she just found her way into my bed. When I talked to Deb, she said you’d been there and that you’d left in a hurry. So, I’m figuring that you came in my room and saw me and Callie in bed together and assumed that we’d slept together?”

  “Well, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah.” Wincing, I hold up a hand. “But that’s not what happened. Please believe me.” My heart’s pounding away inside my chest. I resist the urge to cross my arms over it.

  She takes in a deep breath and shudders it out again. “I really need to shower and put on dry clothes.” She holds my gaze for a long moment, her face tight, then seems to come to a decision. “Do you want to wait?”

  “Sure. I’ll try not to fall asleep again.”

  She gives me a dark look before heading straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I go to her kitchen, hoping there’s some coffee I could heat up, but the pot is empty.


  A week ago, I would’ve just brewed some. Today, that feels wrong.

  I sit at the table to wait. Moments later, her phone rings and the machine picks up.

  BEEP.

  Hey Kate, it’s Steve. Just wanted to get your parents’ address so I can send them a thank you note while I’m thinking about it. Golf with your dad was awesome, like the rest of the weekend. My mother would kill me if I didn’t write. And let me know about coming to the Vineyard. Oh, and that thing we were talking about? Microfinance? I realized there’s someone I know who could tell you more about it. Let’s be sure to talk tomorrow. And, uh, I hope we’re good after the kiss and all.

  When the machine clicks off, I just stare at it, feeling like I just got the wind knocked out of me. Kate was angry with me about Callie but all the while, she took Hot Steve to the wedding? And they’d kissed? Then, on top of ‘the kiss and all,’ whatever that means, they’re going to the Vineyard together?

  I was right. A guy from her world is what she’s been looking for all along. Someone who fits in with her family and can take her on fancy vacations. It was ridiculous to think we ever could have made it as a couple. She probably came over yesterday to break it off with me for good. Without ever confessing that she already started up with Hot Steve.

  I need to get out of here.

  Halfway out the door, I hesitate. Pressing my forehead to the glass, I blow out a breath. I should leave her a note. That way, maybe it’ll end without any more drama.

  Of course, oh-so-organized Kate keeps a pad of paper and a pen right next to her machine.

  I’ll stick the note on the fridge and be gone before she’s out of the shower. Then I’ll never have to see her again.

  KATE

  When I step out of the shower, I’m feeling a lot calmer. I had every right to jump to the conclusion that Will and Callie had had sex. They were in bed, they were both half-naked, and she was snuggled up right next to him. Also, Callie’s a costume designer, so she and Will have similar schedules and values and incomes and everything.

  Whereas Will and I have similar nothing.

  But maybe that’s a good thing.

  By the time I’ve thrown on shorts and a shirt and shoved my hair into a ponytail, I’m ready to talk. We argued, we have some things to figure out, but we’ll move on from this. The sexual chemistry between us, the way we make each other laugh and challenge each other—those are all more important than things like schedules.

  The money thing, that’s fixable, too.

  Kissing Frankie on the nose, I open the bedroom door, ready for a new chapter with Will.

  As I walk toward the kitchen, I catch a flash of movement by the front door.

  “Will?”

  He stops but doesn’t turn around. His hand grips the doorknob. His shoulders are a wall.

  I take a few tentative steps toward him. “Did something happen?”

  “Yeah, something happened. Steve called.” His voice sounds strange, almost like it had during the fight rehearsal I’d witnessed.

  I attempt a chipper tone. “Steve? Which one? You know I work with a lot of them.”

  He slams a palm into the door, making me jump. “The Steve you travel with all the time.” He hurls his words over his shoulder without even looking at me. “The Steve who played golf with your father. The Steve you had such a good time with at the wedding. The Steve who called to chat because even though you spent the fucking weekend together, he couldn’t wait until tomorrow to talk to you again.”

  An arm flings out in the direction of the kitchen. “I wrote you a note. It’s in the kitchen. I’m getting out of here.”

  Confusion, hurt and rage wrestle for control of my mouth.

  Rage wins. “So even though I heard you out with your pretty improbable explanation of what happened with Callie, you’re jumping to all kinds of conclusions about Steve and me? And why are you listening to my messages?” I sound like a little girl, which makes me even madder.

  He finally turns around, and I wish he hadn’t. His expression is one I’ve only seen on Bertram’s face. “He called while I was sitting there waiting for you. I couldn’t avoid hearing every goddamn word he said.”

  Before I can muster a coherent thought, he holds up a hand. “Look. It’s obvious that I was right. I’d have been a square peg when it comes to your family, but Steve—he fit into those round holes all over the place.” A sneer takes over his face, also like one of Bertram’s. “Oh, and there was ‘a kiss and all’ on top of all the fun times you had?”

  “It just happened! He kissed me, and I stopped him because⁠—”

  He interrupts me, pointing between us. “Because you felt tied to me.” His arms fly in the air. “See, that’s the problem. You should be going out with a guy like him. I’m never going to be able to introduce you to people that can help your career like he can. I’m never going to take you on vacation anywhere, let alone some place like the Vineyard.”

  “That’s not fair.” I have to stop myself from stomping my foot like a toddler. “That stuff is not important to me. I’m not like the people I work with. I don’t drive a new BMW; I drive a six-year-old Volvo.”

  “Kate, I don’t have any kind of car. You own your condo. I don’t even have enough money to rent an apartment on my own. I can’t even imagine being able to buy a place like this.”

  “Well, maybe if you did more commercials, like Jay said⁠—”

  “See, that’s the problem. You’re like everyone else who thinks I’m a failure because I’m not doing TV.”

  “That is not what I said.”

  “But it’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Don’t tell me what I’m thinking! I’m saying that if you wanted to buy a condo, you have that option to make money. You’ve proven that you’re pretty good at it and that you can balance that stuff with theater. I personally don’t care what you do.”

  “You would if we were together. If we were getting married. You and everyone who cares about you would think you were an idiot for marrying me.”

  His tone, like he knows best, makes me want to scream. But before I can get a word in, he’s off again.

  “Or worse, I’d be guilted into giving up acting or at least the theater to make more money, then I’d probably lose it all like my dad did and you’d hate me for it.”

  “You’re not listening to me!” Tantruming is obviously not working, so I summon superwoman strength and lower my voice, in pitch and volume, so maybe he’ll take me seriously. “If you paid attention at all to anything I’ve ever said, you’d know that is complete bullshit.”

  “I do pay attention, but you’re being completely unrealistic. You are used to a certain standard of living and would resent me if you had to step down from that to live like I do.”

  My hands are in my hair, about to rip it out. “Oh my god. You are so goddamn stubborn! I can’t believe⁠—” The phone rings and it’s like someone hit pause on my brain. I’m completely flummoxed about what’s happening here, so I’ll take the reprieve.

  “Go ahead, answer it. It might be Steve. Hot Steve.” I’ve never seen such an ugly expression on his face. Not even in the play.

  “You are being ridiculous!” I jab a finger at him, ignoring the phone. “Yes, I had a good time with Steve. But the weekend also made me realize how much I value what we have.” I cross my arms. “Present circumstances excepted.”

  The machine beeps. Roland’s voice hooks me like a fish on a line. I take a step backward. “Shit. It’s my boss. If I don’t answer he’ll just page me.”

  Will reaches for the doorknob. “Go ahead.”

  “Dammit! Don’t leave!”

  He stops, his lips a tight line. I run to pick up the phone.

  “Roland?” I catch him mid-recording and do my best to calm my voice. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Are you alright?”

  Apparently, yet again, my best isn’t enough.

  “Oh, yeah.” Struggling to c
ontain all the confusing things I’m feeling in this moment, I let out a big breath hoping it’ll sound more laugh than sob. “I fell when I was running, and I’m a bit bruised. Just being a baby.”

  “Ah. Sorry to hear that. Anyway. I apologize for interrupting your holiday, but I was speaking with some people from Canaan Industries just now. I’d really like to get the jump on making recommendations, so I need to go over their numbers. Any chance you could meet me at the office to work up a report?” When I don’t answer immediately, he says, “I’d ask Brad Ross, but I trust you to get it right the first time around.”

  I bite my lip. Hard. “Um.” I did take Friday off and haven’t worked the whole weekend. But it’s after eight on a Sunday the day before a holiday. Should I stay here and try to figure things out with Will? Or is it too late for that?

  “Are you still there Katherine?”

  Roland’s voice seems so far away.

  I squeeze my eyes to stop the tears threatening to spill. “Yeah.” I swipe my nose with my sleeve. “Sorry.”

  “If you can’t come in⁠—”

  “No. No, I’ll do it. Of course.”

  “Lovely. See you in an hour?”

  “Sure. I’ll be there.”

  “Cheers.”

  I hang up and walk slowly back to the front door. Will’s still there, arms now crossed over his chest, his face wiped clean of any emotion.

  I just look at him. Not sure for how long. He doesn’t even blink.

  “Maybe you’re right.” I fling words over a rising tide of regret. “I really have too much going on at work to be distracted by this”—my hands dogpaddle uselessly—“drama,” I manage. I squeeze the phone still in my hand. “Will. I really liked spending time with you. But I have to follow my dreams too, and I don’t know if I⁠—”