In Search of a Love Story (Love Story Book One )

by Rachel Schurig

  “Red?” I asked, when I saw the pair that they had decided on. “I can’t wear red shoes.”

  “Why not?” Ashley asked, clearly amused.

  “Because people will think…” I looked behind my shoulder to make sure no one was listening before hissing, “Because people will think I’m a slut!”

  Ashley only laughed. “You’re going to be dressed all in black. A pop of color at your feet is totally appropriate.”

  “Besides,” Ryan said. “These aren’t red, they’re burgundy.”

  “I’ve never worn red shoes before,” I muttered, still not convinced.

  “You promised you would trust us,” Ashley reminded me. “Don’t you think I want you to look gorgeous and classy on this date? Do you really think I would send you out there in anything that made you look slutty?”

  “I guess not,” I said.

  “Then buy the freaking shoes,” Ryan said.

  * * *

  By six thirty the next night, my nerves were threatening to overwhelm me, but I was ready to go. Primped and groomed to within an inch of my life was more like it. I was wearing my new dress and shoes, plus the black silk wrap Ashley had lent me. My hair, which she had carefully blown out, hung down around my shoulders. She had also taken great pains with my makeup, somehow managing to make me look a million times better than normal, without making it look like I was wearing much of any makeup at all. Ryan had even pitched in, carefully manicuring my nails—a feat at which he seemed altogether too skilled.

  “You look great,” Ashley said, looking me over one last time. “Gorgeous.”

  “You really do,” Ryan said, reaching out to smooth a lock of my hair behind my ears. “Never better.”

  “What if I don’t know what to talk to him about?” I asked, my nervousness rising. “Or what if I don’t know how to act in such a fancy restaurant?”

  “You’ll be fine,” Ashley said. “You know what a salad fork is, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “At least, I think I do.”

  “Just follow his lead if you get confused,” she advised. “And don’t worry about the conversation. You’re interesting and funny, no matter the setting.”

  “Yeah, personality has never been your problem,” Ryan agreed. I smiled at them both, feeling marginally better.

  Just then, my phone rang, the noise making me start. “You really are jumpy,” Ashley said. “Just relax!”

  I picked up the phone, noticing Greg’s name flashing on the screen. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Emily,” he said, his voice every bit as deep and sexy as I had remembered. “I’m downstairs. Will you buzz me in?”

  “I can just meet you downstairs,” I said, already reaching for my purse.

  “Oh, no,” he said. “I would feel impolite if I didn’t come to your door.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said, feeling immediately wrong footed. The night hadn’t even started yet, and I was already doing the wrong thing. “Give me just one minute.”

  I walked to the door and hit the buzzer, hearing it echo on the other end of the phone. “Thanks,” Greg said. “I’ll be right up.”

  “He wanted to come to the door,” I said to my friends, who were watching me with interest.

  “Awesome, we’ll get to meet him,” Ryan said, rubbing his hands together.

  “I would rather you go hide in the bedroom,” I muttered.

  “Fat chance.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door, and we all froze.

  “Geez,” Ashley said. “Even I’m nervous now!”

  “Get the door!” I hissed.

  Ashley rushed to the door, pulling it open to reveal Greg. Either he looked better out of the rain or I had forgotten just how good looking he really was. I felt my stomach lurch dangerously.

  “Hello,” he said, smiling at Ashley. “I’m Greg.”

  “I’m Ashley, Emily’s roommate,” she said. Her voice had gone all high-pitched and girly. I would have laughed if I wasn’t feeling so terrified. “Come on in.”

  As Greg stepped into the tiny foyer, I felt a pang of embarrassment—why hadn’t I thought to tidy the place up a little bit? He spotted me across the room, and his smile deepened, causing my stomach to lurch even more.

  “Hello, Emily.”

  “Hello,” I said, my voice sounding stiff and formal in my own ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryan, edging forward toward Greg, a broad smile on his face. “This is my friend Ryan,” I said.

  “Hello, Greg,” Ryan said in his most confident, smooth, I-can’t-get-enough-of-myself voice. I fought back a smirk—he was such a flirt.

  “Hi, Ryan,” Greg said, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Ryan held onto his hand for just a fraction too long. I was amazed that he refrained from winking at the guy.

  Ashley was staring at Greg in a most unflattering way, as if she couldn’t believe someone so good looking was gracing our apartment. Fearing that one of them might soon do something to embarrass me, I hurried to get my purse. “Should we be going?”

  Greg glanced at his watch. “We should.” He grinned at Ashley. “Sorry to dash, but I made reservations.”

  “No problem,” she breathed. “Maybe next time.”

  “Absolutely.” Greg held out his arm to me, and I stepped toward him. In one smooth motion his hand was behind my back, gently pushing me toward the door.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Ash and Ryan. They were both staring at me, wide-eyed. I felt a little flash of amusement. Maybe they wouldn’t be quite so quick to tease me about my hopelessness with men.

  Then again, I thought, as Greg led me through the open door, the night had barely started. Plenty of time for me to screw it all up.

  Chapter Twelve

  Amazingly enough, I didn’t screw it up. Not even close. My date with Greg was one of the nicest that I’d had. Like, ever in my life.

  The restaurant was great. Even though it was clearly nicer than any place I had ever been in, it was comfortable and unpretentious—I had absolutely no problem determining the correct fork. And the food…well, I had never had food like it before. It was absolutely amazing, every one of the full five courses. Greg ordered the filet mignon ( I tried hard not to gasp when I saw the price), and I chose the somewhat less expensive sea bass. Even this made me feel guilty. I had never let anyone spend so much money on me before. My internal objections were silenced after the first bite. The buttery fish practically melted in my mouth. It was all I could do not to moan aloud.

  Greg was completely polite to me the entire night, warm even. He was interested in my work, and laughed when I told him about the geriatric brigade at the clinic. He asked me a million questions about what it had been like to grow up in Alpena. He seemed genuinely interested in hearing about Ashley and Chris and Ryan and how we had all met.

  I quickly found that I was interested in him as well. Greg worked as a real estate broker, his market focusing on the northern suburbs, though he had been doing more and more work downtown. Judging from his impeccable suit, the Jaguar he had picked me up in, and his insistence on paying the entire bill, I assumed he was pretty successful. Greg had grown up in the area and remained close with several friends from high school, to whom he was clearly deeply loyal.

  We talked about our shared love of sports. He was very excited when he found out I was a runner, even suggesting we train together sometime; he was preparing for the Detroit Marathon in October.

  But it wasn’t until the topic of our families came up that I felt we truly bonded. After hearing a story about his older brother, Daniel, I asked after his parents.

  “My father is great,” he said. “One of the best men I know. He’s remarried and lives in Florida now.” His voice grew soft. “My mother passed away five years ago.”

  I gasped. “Oh, Greg. I’m so sorry to hear that,” I whispered. As he stared down at the table, unmoving, his face looked so tortured, the pain exposed and naked. I reached my hand across the table and covered his w
ith my own. “I lost my mother too.”

  He looked up then, his eyes wide. “Really?”

  I nodded, feeling tears start to prick my own eyes. I rarely ever opened up about my mother to anyone. When the subject did come up, I would typically try to brush it off, as if it was no big deal anymore. I had spent the last ten years pretending I was over it. But sitting there with Greg, I knew I didn’t have to pretend, not when it came to this.

  “How old were you?” he asked, turning his hand over so our palms were now touching. In spite of the terrible subject matter, the contact still sent a little thrill through me.

  “I was twelve,” I said. “She had cancer.”

  “Mine too,” he whispered. “That must have been terrible for you, being so young.”

  “No more terrible than it was for you, I’m sure. Your mother is your mother, no matter how old you are.”

  He nodded, now folding his fingers over mine so we were fully holding hands. I didn’t feel nervous anymore, like I had every other time he had touched me. Now it just felt right.

  “I think we may be kindred spirits, Emily,” he said, smiling at me.

  I smiled back. “I think you’re right.”

  * * *

  The entire next day I felt like I was walking on air. For all of my scoffing at Ashley and her romantic obsessions, I honestly felt like I was Cinderella. Who ever would have thought that such a good-looking, interesting guy would be so nice? And even more, that he would be interested in me. It was, to be honest, like something out of a fairy tale.

  “I told you,” Ashley said, over and over again as we partook in our Sunday morning ritual of reading the paper at Delmar, our favorite diner. “I told you this could be something.”

  Even her smugness couldn’t put a damper on my mood. I spent most of the meal ignoring my paper and my bagel, staring out the window as I thought about Greg. My coffee even got cold before I had finished, which never happened to me.

  “You’re starting to freak me out,” Chris said finally.

  “Why?” I asked, pulling myself away from my recollection of the way Greg had insisted on walking me all the way upstairs before kissing my lightly on the cheek. He was so romantic, such a gentleman. And when he had leaned in close like that, I could smell the delicious aroma of his cologne, some musky scent that just screamed masculinity.

  “Oh my God, you’re still doing it,” Chris said, tossing his napkin at me. “You’re officially mooning now, Emily Donovan. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Sorry,” I said, grinning sheepishly. “I just can’t help it. It went so well.”

  “We know,” Ryan said, not even looking up from his paper. “You told us. Several times.”

  “You’re one to talk!” I cried. “You were the one that was so into this, convincing me it was a big deal. I would think you’d be a bit more interested in how successful it was.”

  “Don’t mind him,” Ashley said. “He’s just jealous. After you left, we went out dancing, and he struck out with all the guys he hit on.”

  “Sorry, Ry,” I said. “Do you think if we sat down and watched some romantic comedies you might have better luck?”

  “Ha ha,” he said, his voice flat. “So funny.”

  “Don’t be upset,” Ashley said. “Maybe if you’re very good, Emily will bring her new man over to hang out at the apartment. Wouldn’t that cheer you up?”

  “He’s hardly her new man,” Chris said, looking up from his paper. “I mean, they’ve had one date.”

  “That’s very true,” Ashley said. “But I have a good feeling about this one.”

  I couldn’t help but return her smile. It might be silly, but I had to agree with her. I’d never been out with someone like Greg before. Maybe this would be different.

  “Oh, no,” Chris said, staring at my face. “You’ve gone all crazy girl on me, haven’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re gonna turn into one of those girls that is convinced she’s found The One after a single good date. One of those girls that starts calling obsessively and driving by the guy’s house.” He gave a mock shudder. “Next thing we know, you’ll be doodling your married name on a piece of paper and checking out wedding dresses online.”

  “Give me a little credit!” I cried, my neck turning red. It was a total coincidence that I had, in fact, had a dream that I was wearing a wedding dress just the night before. I mean, that wouldn’t have had anything to do with Greg. It was only our first date! Besides, you can’t control what your brain does while you’re sleeping.

  Ryan was looking at Chris with an incredulous expression. “What experience do you have with obsessed women?” he asked. “Did I somehow miss the part of the last seven years where they were breaking down your door?”

  I laughed along with Ashley, but Chris seemed unperturbed.

  “I just want to make sure you don’t get carried away,” he told me. “Look, it’s only been a few weeks since all that shit went down with Dylan. And I know how sensitive you are, Em. I just don’t want you to get hurt if this doesn’t turn out. You barely know the guy.”

  “You’re right,” I said, the little bubble of happy certainty in my chest deflating slightly. It was silly to be so sure that anything more would happen with Greg. He had said he would call me, and I would have put money down that he was interested in me, judging from his behavior the night before. But God knew how wrong I had been about guys in the past. Who was I to judge how he was feeling?

  “He probably won’t even call back,” I said, sitting up taller and arranging my face in what I hoped was a more detached expression. “Regardless, it was a fun date. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”

  “Don’t say that!” Ashley looked scandalized. “You have to have hope that it will work out!”

  I shrugged, determined to be in control. “If he calls, great. If not, I’ll live.”

  Chris gave me an approving nod before retuning to his paper. I did the same, telling myself that I really meant what I had said.

  Two minutes later, my phone beeped, and the bubble in my chest doubled in size. It was a text from Greg. Opening the message under my paper, I tried to keep the smile off my face as I read it. Had a great time last night. I’m thinking about you.

  “What’s it say?” Ryan asked. I looked up to see them all staring at me. Apparently, I was fooling no one.

  “He’s thinking about me,” I said, and I knew my grin was as wide as my face.

  “Oh God,” Chris muttered under his breath.

  I returned my attention to my phone, wondering how I should respond.

  “Tell him you’re thinking about him too,” Ashley advised. “And that you had a great time.”

  “Tell him you couldn’t sleep because you were so happy,” Ryan said. “Then tell him what you’re wearing.”

  “Yeah, I’m so gonna do that,” I said. I thought for a moment than typed out a quick response. I had a wonderful time, thank you again! I woke up with a smile on my face this morning.

  I looked at it with satisfaction before hitting send. It was nice with just a hint of flirtation. Hopefully just what the situation called for.

  A moment later, my phone rang. I looked at the screen and almost spit out a mouthful of coffee. I gulped the coffee so fast I started coughing. “It’s Greg!” I sputtered.

  “Answer it!” Ashley hissed.

  I quickly accepted the call and held the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Emily?”

  Greg’s voice sent a little fission right into my stomach. How could someone even sound handsome?

  “Hi,” I said, aware of the three faces turned in my direction. I got up and made my way through the maze of tables until I was standing in the café’s small entryway. “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” he said. “Your text made me happy.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’m feeling pretty happy myself.”

  He laughed softly, the sound feeling
intimate in my ear. Oh, I was falling fast for this guy. I knew the realization should scare me—cause me to put my guard up a little, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. Particularly not after his next words.

  “I hope this isn’t too pushy of me,” he said. “But I’d love to see you again. Soon. Could you have dinner with me this evening?”

  “That would be great,” I said automatically.

  “Wonderful,” he said, and I could just tell that he was smiling on the other end of the phone. “How about something low key? Do you like sushi?”

  “I’ve actually never tried it,” I admitted, feeling almost embarrassed. How unsophisticated could you get?

  “You’ll love it,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Good. I’m really looking forward to it, Emily.”

  “Me too,” I said, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

  After we hung up, I headed back to the table. I had a feeling I was about to get more ribbing from my friends for mooning. I couldn’t care less.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Five more, Frank,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “Just keep doing exactly what you’re doing now.”

  I walked away from the standing leg station where Frank was carefully completing a set of leg lifts. On the other side of the room, Mrs. Z was propped up against a stack of pillows with a heat pack on her shoulder. I made my way to Zachary’s table, a teenage kid who had broken his leg in three places playing football. He was determined to be back to game shape by the following fall, and I usually had to slow him down a few times a day to keep him from overdoing things.

  “How’s that feeling, Zach?” I asked. “Ready for your ice pack?”

  “I can do another set,” he said, grimacing slightly. I made out a thin sheen of sweat on his face, and shook my head.

  “I think you’re done,” I said firmly. “I’ll get you your ice pack.”

  I headed to the back hallway and pulled the pack from the freezer. Returning to the therapy area, I saw Sarah helping Philip up onto his table, a typical grouchy expression on his face. When she clasped his arm for support, he glared at her so intensely she actually looked scared. I grinned to myself and continued across the room.