"Working in Manhattan, living in Brooklyn. It was great seeing him, Mom. He grew up."
"We're all getting older," her mother said with a melodramatic sigh. "So. Ted Skala. What's he been up to?"
Erika told her mother about his job.
Her mother sounded duly impressed. "He always had a lot on the ball," she said. "Not taking the route everyone else took, but he was a smart boy and a hard worker. That summer, he was working two jobs, wasn't he? Caddying at Somerset and working at the gas station. Definitely a hard worker." Her parents had always honored hard work. Her father, after all, had started his life in the humble environment of the working-class Bronx, earned scholarships and wound up a stockbroker on Wall Street. Her mother had been an immigrant who hadn't even understood English when she'd arrived in New York, but she'd found work teaching Wall Street executives how to speak Spanish so they could communicate more effectively with their business associates south of the border. Neither of her parents had started out with much, but thanks to hard work they'd wound up affluent. "He has a work ethic, that boy," she said of Ted.
"He's not a boy anymore," Erika pointed out.
"And? Are you going to see him again?"
"He's in a relationship, Mom," Erika said. The night she'd met him at Fanelli's, and burst into tears, and raced home and wept on the phone to Allyson, she wouldn't have been able to say that so calmly. But time had passed, and the inexplicable, turbulent emotions of that night had vanished like a storm blown out to sea. Ted was an old friend. A mature friend. Period.
"So he's in a relationship. Are you going to see him again?"
"Mom," she said firmly. "It's a relationship of long standing. They've been together for years. They're living together."
"He isn't married to her, is he?" her mother asked.
Erika didn't want to venture too far in the direction her mother was heading.
Her mother apparently did. "If she was the woman for him, they'd be married by now. They're not married."
As if Ted's being a typical commitment-phobic guy meant he could possibly be interested in seeing Erika again-interested in her as something other than an old, mature friend.
He had told her, years ago, that he would never love her again. He would never trust her not to hurt him the way she had before. She accepted that. She respected it. The fact that he wasn't married had nothing to do with her.
Thus, she was a little surprised when he phoned a few days later and suggested they get together for a drink and a bite. Not exactly a formal invitation to dinner, but a step beyond their last meeting, which had been just a drink. Not a bite.
"Fanelli's?" she suggested. "They have a food menu there, tables in the back. . ."
"I was thinking someplace a little nicer, maybe? Is there someplace in your neighborhood? I don't know downtown that well."
"How about the White Horse Tavern?" she asked.
"Sure. Fine."
They settled on a date and a time and said good-bye. This time, Erika promised herself, she would be ready. Seeing Ted as he was now, so handsome and manly and confident, wouldn't be a shock. Knowing that he was seeking only friendship with her, that he was already taken, that they were just two old-maturefriends getting together, that nothing more than a fun night out would come of it, that he would be returning to his girlfriend afterward, or perhaps even bringing his girlfriend with him, and that Erika would be returning to her own happily single life, the life she'd chosen for herself, the life she wanted ...
She would be ready.
THIS TIME YOU'LL BE READY. You know she's beautiful. You know the risks. You know she broke your heart before, and you'll keep your heart well protected, as you always do, you'll keep that most fragile part of your soul buried in an impermeable bunker so she can't break it again.
You'll be careful. You'll ride the wave, but you won't hot-dog it. You can do that. You know how to surf, and this time you'll have your board with you.
You're a single man now.
Not because of Erika, you tell yourself You ended things with Marissa for Marissa's sake, not because you wanted to see Erika again but because after seeing her once, you'd acknowledged that you've always been seeing her. She's never left you. You've never been free to give yourself to anyone else. You know that now. You've tried to ignore it, but it's there.
So you'll climb on your board and paddle out and hope a nice roller rises up and carries you along for a ride. Erika had always been the one who craved adventure, but now it's your turn. And she's your adventure.
You'll enjoy the experience, have fun, learn something. Get a little wet when the wave breaks over you.
But you won't drown. You'll be careful. You'll be ready.
Erika's cell phone rang while she was walking to the White Horse Tavern. Without breaking stride, she plucked the phone from her purse and flipped it open. "Hello?"
She'd expected the caller might be Ted, telling her he was running late-something she would deserve, given how long she'd made him wait for her at Fanelli's while she'd dried her hair, put on makeup and realized, halfway to the bar, that she'd left her wallet at home. Or it might be Ted telling her he couldn't make it at all. Something might have come up. His girlfriend might be ill. Maybe she was vomiting unexpectedly. Maybe she was nauseous and late and ... Oh, for God's sake, Erika!
"Hi," an unfamiliar male voice came through the phone. "This is Bill. I'm a friend of Sarah's ..."
Erika nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. "Hi," she said. Sarah was a colleague at work. A happily married colleague who seemed determined that Erika become her neighbor in the joyous nation of holy matrimony. To that end, Sarah directed every single man she knew under the age of fifty in Erika's direction.
"Sarah said we ought to get together. She also said to tell you I'm not a loser." He laughed.
Erika laughed, too. "Sarah doesn't know losers," she said, silently admitting that every guy Sarah had ever set her up with had been reasonably decent. A few sevens and eights, and no one below a five.
"So, how about it? Should we meet somewhere for a drink?"
The White Horse Tavern was just up the block. She could see Ted standing just outside the entry, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair neat and his gaze searching the street, watching for her. "Tell you what," she said to Bill. "I can't talk right now, but why don't you give me a call next week and we'll set something up?"
"I'll do that," he promised. "From what Sarah's told me about you, I'm looking forward to meeting you."
"Great. I'll speak to you next week." She said good-bye, folded her phone shut and crossed the street.
Ted spotted her and smiled.
"Hey, Fred!" a man shouted-not Ted. She glanced around, figuring someone actually named Fred might be in the area, and spotted one of her old high school friends jogging toward her from the other end of the street.
Weird that Ryan should show up just at that moment, less than a minute after she'd agreed to a blind date with Sarah's friend Bill. It was as if the world had conspired to surround her with guys.
Yes, that was it. The world wanted to remind her that Ted wasn't the one and only man in her life, that he hadn't been her one and only man for sixteen years, that he never would be her one and only man. Ryan charged down the sidewalk, barreled into her and wrapped her in a bear hug when she was just a few feet from Ted. "Hey, what's up?" Ryan asked.
She peered over his shoulder and her eyes met Ted's. His smile deepened, as if he and she were sharing a secret joke.
She wished she knew what the joke was. In that instant, in that secret exchange of smiles, she wanted to know everything about him, to share everything with him.
Ryan released her, turned and saw Ted. "Hey, Skala!" They did the guy thing, bumping fists, slapping shoulders. "Small world, huh? Half our high school is hanging in Manhattan these days. You guys headed in there?" He gestured toward the White Horse Tavern.
"Yeah," Ted said. "We're going to have something to eat."
/> Don't invite Ryan to join us, Erika thought, then chastised herself. Of course Ryan could join them if he wanted. He was just another old, mature friend.
He beamed at both of them. "Cool. You two have a drink in my honor, okay?" He socked Ted in the shoulder once more, gave Erika a parting squeeze and continued jogging down the street. Erika wished she didn't feel so relieved that she and Ted would not have him as a chaperone for the evening.
Ted gave her another quiet smile. He held open the inn's door, then touched his hand to the small of her back and ushered her inside. Like a gentleman. Like a date.
He's not a date, she chanted silently. He's got a girlfriend. We're just old friends.
Don't push it, he ordered himself. Don't rush into anything. This is just a fun ride. Nothing serious. Nothing real.
As he picked at his salad and Erika described what she'd done all day, he contemplated telling her that he was now a single man. But the words got stuck in his throat. Erika looked so vibrant, so stunningly beautiful-he didn't want Marissa barging in on the evening. Mentioning her, even in the context of the fact that she was no longer in his life, would be an intrusion.
Or maybe that wasn't why he couldn't bring himself to tell Erika about his newfound available status. Maybe he was just being cautious. Self-protective. As long as Erika thought he was still in a relationship, a buffer would remain between them. And as much as Ted desired her, as much as he wanted to knock the dishes and glasses from the table with a single swipe of his arm, and then lean across that cozy linen-covered square and kiss her, he needed that buffer.
She had hurt him, after all. More than hurt him-she'd demolished him. Devastated him. Take it slow, Skala, he told himself. Don't let her get close enough to hurt you again.
Not that he had any reason to think she wanted to get that close. She was chatting away as if they were long-lost friends. Nothing suggestive in her behavior. Nothing seductive.
Hell, she didn't have to do anything to be seductive. She just had to exist. He'd gotten a crush on her the first time he'd seen her, back in tenth grade. And here he was, eighteen years later, still with a crush on her.
Keep your distance, Skala.
He'd kept his distance with Marissa, even when they'd been living together. He'd always kept his distance with every woman. The tactic had been successful. He'd been enjoying a good life, no romantic crises, no lacerating pain, no crippling injuries. Women came and went. Sometimes they came and stayed for three years, and he tried, really tried to breach that distance. But he couldn't. And when the breakup occurred, he felt ... regretful. Apologetic. Sad to think he might be the one inflicting pain.
But he didn't suffer the pain himself. When Erika had broken up with him all those years ago, he'd suffered enough pain to last a lifetime. He would never, ever love a woman the way he'd loved her.
He wouldn't even love her the way he'd loved her.
So what was he doing having dinner with her?
Playing with fire? Testing his willpower? Nostalgia, he tried to convince himself. Good times for old times' sake.
He just wished she wasn't so freaking gorgeous, and exuberant, and funny. And-damn it-seductive.
When she was done talking about her work and asking him about his, they talked about Ryan, and Laura, and Allyson, and some of the other friends from their old high school crowd. They discussed the free Shakespeare plays that would be staged at Central Park that summer, the annual Nathan's Fourth of July frankfurter-eating contest at Coney Island next week, and the fireworks the city would blast over the Hudson River-a much more fitting way to celebrate Independence Day than stuffing one's face with wieners, in Erika's opinion. She'd insisted that he taste her chicken, and he'd poked a bite of his steak into her mouth, and he told himself that her eating off his fork and his eating off hers didn't mean anything.
When they were done she suggested they go dancing. He was far from ready to end the night, so he said sure. "I know this great club near here-Atomic Slims," she told him.
"Sounds good." He led her out of the restaurant. The sidewalk had grown crowded with pedestrians enjoying the balmy summer night, and he took her elbow so he wouldn't lose her in the crowd.
No. He took her elbow because he wanted to touch her. Because he felt the same way he'd felt when he'd seen her at Fanelli's. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her. He was strong, his defenses in place, his heart untouchable-but man, Erika pushed his buttons. All these years later, she still inspired an adolescent lust in him. He wanted her.
The wave was building behind him. Catch it, he ordered himself. Ride it in. The worst that could happen would be that he got tossed and wound up with a mouth full of sand.
"`I don't know what it is about you," he said, "but it's like you've been etched in the forefront of my mind for the past sixteen years. And I can't get you out."
She said nothing. He could feel the tension ripple through her-a catch in her gait, a shift in her shoulders, a tilt to her head. She seemed deep in thought.
A mouth full of sand, he thought bitterly. He could practically taste the grit against his teeth.
Her silence continued
Christ. He shouldn't have said anything. She was going to hurt him again-except no, he wasn't going to let her. He could actually feel something inside him contracting, withdrawing, folding into a protective tuck. He assured himself that he was safe. Invulnerable. She wouldn't destroy him again.
They reached the end of the street. A red light stopped them from stepping off the curb, and she turned to him, her eyes churning with emotions he couldn't read. "I don't know why we're here, Ted," she said. Her voice was low but he could hear her clearly despite the traffic noises, the clamor of voices around them, the dull rumble of a plane arching into the sky above them. "I don't know why, but there's a reason this is happening."
What's happening? he wondered. What does she think is happening?
"I wasn't ready for you sixteen years ago," she said. "But ... I'm here now."
When you're surfing and your board slides out from under you, you plunge into the water. It bubbles and spirals around your head, and your hair swirls into your eyes, and for a few seconds you aren't sure which way is up. And if you're unlucky, you wind up with that mouth full of sand.
But other times, your hair is swept back and you look up and the sky is right there, just inches of water above you, close enough for you to reach through the surface and touch. And you shoot up into the sunlight and take a deep, cleansing breath.
That was what he felt like-a surfer bursting into the air and filling his lungs with the air they craved, the air that was the very essence of life.
I'm here now, Erika had said. She might not be here tomorrow, or next week. She still had the power to destroy him if he opened himself up too much. But for now ...
I'm here.
She was there. And so was he.
Erika was still mulling over her confession to Ted, and his to her, as they entered Atomic Slims. She hadn't expected things to get so honest so fast. She'd been planning to go on a date with Sarah's friend Bill just minutes before she'd met up with Ted at the White Horse Tavern. And Ted was in a relationship, for God's sake. This evening was supposed to be about two old friends getting together, nothing more. Some good times, some reminiscences, some catching up. Period.
But then he'd hit her with his solemn words about her being etched into his mind for sixteen years, and she'd hit him with her words about how things happened for a reason and, whatever else had transpired over those sixteen years, she was with him now. With him. That sounded almost scary.
Yet she didn't feel scared. She'd conquered mountains, she'd conquered oceans, and these days she was conquering the financial world. Surely she had the courage to be with Ted long enough to find out what exactly was going on.
Atomic Slims was a postage stamp of a club, the dance floor a tiny square crammed with people. Erika loved dancing in the center of a mob. She grabbed Ted's hand and dragged
him out onto the floor. As they began to move to the music, she found herself remembering another dance floor sixteen years ago, when he'd been in a tux and she'd been in a pastel gown that had supposedly made her look slim and graceful, and they'd been dancing with other people. And she'd secretly wished she was dancing with him.
Now she didn't have to wish. There was no secret. They danced. They touched. They laughed. Their gazes collided and they discovered they were both singing along to whatever song was playing. Exhausted after a few numbers, they fought their way to the bar and Erika treated everyone within shouting distance to a beer. She was a vice president of a major financial corporation, and this time she'd remembered to bring her wallet. She could splurge.
She was in a festive mood. She and Ted had given each other a glimpse of their souls and they'd survived. More than survived; they were exulting in the moment, the reality of their being together for this one evening. She wanted to dance with him forever, but that was impossible. So she'd dance with him now, and drink, and celebrate.
After she and Ted had quenched their thirst, they returned to the minuscule dance floor and let the music wash over them. And because she was so happy, so delighted to be with him, she wrapped her arms around him in a spontaneous hug.
His arms closed around her, and he looked as ecstatic as she felt.
And she thought, I am with him. And that's exactly where I want to be.
From: Ted Skala
To: Erika Fredell Crazy night.
From: Erika Fredell
To: Ted Skala
Kind of an incredible night, actually. I'd like to see you again, maybe under less crazy circumstances. I'm feeling pretty vulnerable writing this, but I don't want to make the same mistake twice with you.
From: Ted Skala
To: Erika Fredell
I've been thinking about last night and everything we talked about ... Where from here, huh?
From: Erika Fredell
To: Ted Skala
I know. Where from here ...
Here is what I think. I think if we did nothing we'd regret it. But to have no regrets, to go for it, you have to flip your life upside down. Which is huge, I know.
Meet Me in Manhattan (True Vows) Page 16