It had been six months since I started dating Elliot. He told me it was love from the moment he first saw me at a writing seminar he conducted here in Phoenix. I always laughed and said it had nothing to do with love.
“How could you fall instantly in love with someone you don’t even know?” I had asked him.
“Don’t you believe in fairy tales, Emily? True love and white knights saving the princess stories?” he joked.
I noticed him. He was so hot every woman there was crushing on him within minutes. It wasn’t until I ran into him at the grocery store, a month later, that I realized he had noticed me. I still cringed when I thought back to that day.
I was having the worst morning and I looked like total shit when I ran into him. Literally, I ran into Elliot D’Arcy with a shopping cart. Banged into this hot guy because I wasn’t paying attention. I still couldn’t believe it when he asked me out.
It had been crazy ever since. The first night? Memories of the first night would follow me until the day I died. If I closed my eyes, I remembered it like it was yesterday, every little detail.
My cell phone chirped, signaling a new text message while I carried my groceries into the house. Dropping the bags on the counter, I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket and checked it.
Do you know Lola’s Wine Bar?
I was so excited I almost dropped my phone. My fingers shook as I tried to text Elliot back.
Yes
And I waited.
I held my breath as I waited for his response, phone in my hand, staring at the screen, waiting.
Five minutes later…
Sorry, I was interrupted. Will 6 work for you? I can meet you there or pick you up if you’d like.
Play it cool, I told myself, and started texting back.
I will meet you there.
Hours later, two showers, six changes of clothes, and a schoolgirl case of the jitters, I walked through the door of Lola’s Wine Bar. Elliot D’Arcy sat in a corner by a large picture window overlooking the desert and the mountain range to the west. He stood as I walked toward him.
Stepping out from the table as I approached, he took my hand and kissed it. He smiled as he looked at me.
“Emily, have I told you in the past few hours that you are beautiful?”
I remembered feeling my blush creep up and my face growing warm. I didn’t know what to say. I could hear the sincerity in his voice but compliments always embarrassed me. My hands started to sweat, and I was a bit relieved when he let go of them to pull the chair out for me. I sat down and took a breath.
Relax! I whispered to myself. It’s just a guy.
Glancing around me at the other patrons, I was glad I chose to wear a dress. A simple A-line cut, black, off the shoulder sundress that followed the curves of my waist and flared out from my hips. The dress draped my body to my ankles and billowed out as I walked. I wore a simple pair of black pumps with kitten heels, giving me enough height so I could look at Elliot without kinking my neck. I was tall at 5’8” but he had at least five inches on me. I smiled as he ordered a bottle of wine, thinking how I could fit perfectly into the curve of his neck where his shoulder connected, if we took a walk and his arm was curved around me, pulling me into his side.
“Where are you from, Emily?” He broke into my fantasy.
“Minnesota,” I replied. “I moved here about a year ago to get away from the cold.”
His eyes twinkled at me as he laughed. “So you’re a freeze baby, are you?”
“Yes, I am,” I admitted, laughing along with him. “I hate being cold more than anything else. Back home if the chill gets to your bones, it’s all over. You can’t warm up. It was like that all winter long for me.”
“I’ve been up there, to Minnesota, a few times. I didn’t care for the winters either.” Elliot nodded in agreement.
The evening flew by as we sipped our wine and talked about living in Arizona. He moved to Scottsdale three years ago from Northern California, although his books kept him traveling much of his time.
I sat spellbound as he told me of travels to Europe and Asia for both research, promoting his novels, and for simply pleasure. I’d dreamed of traveling around the world since I was a little girl. There was even a map on the wall in my office, pins marking the cities I wanted to visit someday.
I laughed loudly when he told me a story of trying to find the courage to eat in some of the more famous restaurants, especially when he had no idea what he was biting into.
“Are you a picky eater?” I asked.
“I don’t consider myself one, but I like to know beforehand what I am going to eat. Things like beetles and monkey brains may be a delicacy over in Asia, but I have no desire to try them whatsoever.” He made a face.
I had to put my hand over my mouth as I thought I might gag at the thought of eating bugs. ICK!
Walking out to my car later, Elliot took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. His thumb kept brushing back and forth across the back of my knuckles softly, sending an occasional shiver racing through me. It had been a long time since I had met a man I connected so easily with from the very beginning.
Stopping at my car, he raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. Reaching out, he ran a finger over my cheek and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.
“I love your curls,” he whispered. “They’re so soft, yet a bit wild like you seem to be.”
His arms circled around my waist and he pulled me into him closer, looking intensely into my eyes.
“I really want to see you again, Emily. I’m here, holed up in my cave for a while, writing. I come up for air quite often—daily if there is a reason. Will you be my reason? I want to get to know more of you. I want to learn everything about you.”
I could not tear my eyes away from him. He had me in some kind of a spell I couldn’t seem to break, nor did I want to. It was as if his eyes, staring into mine, held me hostage.
“I’d like that very much,” I answered.
I watched as his lips moved toward mine. His touch was feathery, light, gentle … barely grazing yet teasing, promising more. His lips played with mine as I melted against him, my breasts against his hard chest, and my legs feeling the muscle of his well-toned thighs. My body grew warm and tingly as his kiss intensified.
Releasing me slowly he staggered for a moment.
“Wow,” he stuttered.
“Yeah, wow.”
Cupping my face with his hands, he kissed me one more time. Reaching behind me, he opened the door of my car and motioned for me to climb in.
“I need you to leave now, before I beg you to come home with me, Emily.”
I couldn’t speak yet—my mind was still off in another land from his kiss. I simply nodded.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I nodded as he closed my door. I glanced in the rearview mirror as I pulled away and watched him—watching me—watching him.
…And here I was six months later … I shook myself out of my daydream and tried to blow off my melancholy mood. Elliot flew to New York yesterday to meet with his publisher. Lately, every time he had to leave, I became insecure and nasty. I picked fights with him over trivial bullshit. I didn’t want to be this way. It was as though someone I didn’t know entered my body and took over. I knew I exasperated Elliot when I acted this way, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. My heart knew this man was the one, the man I had dreamed of all my life. He was everything I ever wanted, and most of the time, he brought out the best in me … when I let him.
Lately, my thoughts had been returning back to my parents. It wasn’t as if they planned on dying in that car accident. It wasn’t their fault, but I was still mad they left me alone. The older I got, the more those few memories I had grew dim and more abstract. I was afraid someday they would disappear altogether.
The child in me thought my grandmother would live forever, but she died too, leaving me completely alone. Deep down I thought a big part of me was waiting for Ell
iot to leave too. I couldn’t get over this feeling I’d always carried with me, that I wasn’t good enough for anyone to love me forever. It was dumb and completely self-destructive, but I couldn’t seem to find a way to work through it. I kept guarding my heart, locking it up tight, because the beautiful people in my life always left in one way or another. It was messing me up. Worse … I was destroying the very thing I wanted more than anything and I didn’t know how to stop myself.
EMILY
It is a new day and a new beginning—a quote someone said on the radio last week. I kept rolling it over in my head. Was it really so simple? Just wake up and start fresh? Yesterday was done, over, and you couldn’t do a damn thing to change it. But today? That was a whole different story. We were the masters of our own life. We could choose to wallow in self-pity and cry about what could have been, or we could learn and grow from the pain … take an honest look at what we’ve done and let it go. Tell ourselves it didn’t matter. Today was new thoughts and new faces and how we reacted to that was our choice. Today I wanted to let go and live my life. I wanted to laugh and enjoy every experience coming my way. Today I was not going to let anything hurt me, scare me, or force me to question my dreams. Today was my day.
I was meeting up with the girls this afternoon. We were heading out on a little road trip.
Andrea had a speaking engagement at a conference Friday morning in Southern California. A friend gave her the keys to her beach house in La Jolla, and she invited Maggie and me to tag along.
We were going to walk the beach, eat wonderful food, drink, and just plain relax and enjoy life. I was looking forward to the escape and a bit of girl time.
I hadn’t seen much of Andrea the last month. When she called about La Jolla, I asked her how things were going. She’d been spending a lot of her time helping out at the women’s shelter in Phoenix. She mentioned there had been a large number of women and kids coming in to escape some really horrendous situations, and she had been dealing with issues day and night.
Maggie had been quieter the last few times I’d seen her, at least when we were out for happy hour. Usually she was the center of attention with her laughter and her stories. Now she seemed to be observing more, listening instead of going into the conversations. A girls’ weekend together would do all of us some good.
Guilt hit me as I packed my duffle bag and threw it in the back of my jeep. I was leaving Lucky for the first time since he became my roommate. I checked into a few kennels, but I didn’t really know what to look for. I asked George for a recommendation, and he promptly informed me Lucky would be staying with him. He swayed me quickly with the fact that Lucky had seen the inside of too many kennels in his short life. He was a rescue dog someone didn’t want anymore. He didn’t need to think I felt the same way about him.
His argument almost made me cry. I felt so guilty leaving him. I knew there would be times when I had to and I knew Lucky liked George and George adored Lucky. They would be fine. The two bachelors just hanging out, watching TV, eating steak, drinking beer, and farting.
“No beer for Lucky, he’s watching his calories,” I had informed George earlier.
Lucky seemed to be fine when I brought over his supplies and his blanket before I left. I gave him lots of extra hugs. They watched as I backed out, then Lucky followed George back into the garage.
Maggie lived close by, so I picked her up first. She was already waiting, her bag sitting in the driveway as she locked up the house. She pulled out a memory card she made for the trip with over 500 songs.
“Perfect driving music!” she promised and promptly slid the card in the slot on my dash. Rock and roll blasted out from the speakers and I began to sing along with her and Aerosmith.
Andrea was ready and waiting for us when we arrived. She was smiling brighter than the eyes of a child on Christmas morning as she carried out her garment bag and stashed it in the back. I’d tied the ragtop back on the jeep for the long drive so we could enjoy the beautiful weather. Sunglasses on, everyone buckled in, and music turned up loud, we headed out.
We headed down through Maricopa, taking the southern route skimming along the Mexican border and the sand dunes toward San Diego. The drive took five and a half hours, give or take, giving us plenty of time to catch up along the way.
There were a few stops as we went through the mountains for group pictures and another to watch the dune buggies racing in the sand. I was amazed some of them didn’t flip over as they climbed the steep hills. Up and down they went. Sand flying all over as the wheels dug through it. I might have another addition to my bucket list, racing a dune buggy through the desert sand. It looked like a lot of fun to me.
The sun dipped lower on the horizon as we drove into La Jolla. The memories of this beautiful place raced through my mind. It was the place Elliot and I came several times when life would get crazy. I always felt so calm here, sitting on the beach, watching the ocean just roll in and out. My blood pressure instantly dropped when I hit the city limits of La Jolla.
Just a few steps away from the park, the beach house overlooked the ocean. I’m not sure what I thought it was going to be, maybe a small cottage or something on that order, but little it was not. Four bedrooms each with its own bath. A living room spanned the entire west side of the house, and a whole wall of sliding doors opened up to a deck facing the ocean. It was amazing. We each grabbed a room and dumped our stuff, meeting back in the living room. Andrea was already gathering up some glasses and a bottle of wine, motioning for us to sit in the chairs out on the deck.
“Please tell your friend that this place is wonderful!” I told her, gazing all around me.
“I will. She found it a few years ago. She did most of the redecorating herself, hiring out only what she didn’t know how to do or didn’t want to attempt. It was a foreclosure and in pretty sad shape. This was her healing place after a rough divorce. All her energy went into fixing it up. I remember how it looked when she bought it. I’m not sure I would have attempted it.” Andrea pretended to shudder. “The message she wanted passed on to all of us was to relax and enjoy. And to heal.”
We spent the evening sitting out on the deck in oversized chairs, so comfortable one could sleep in them, mesmerized by the Pacific Ocean in front of us, drinking wine, and just plain old girl talk. It was, hands down, the most relaxing and comfortable evening I had experienced in a long time.
The kitchen was stocked with all kinds of delicious food, snacks, fresh fruit from the local farmers’ market, and meals Linda, the owner, had prepared ahead of our arrival. She had been at the beach house most of the week before we arrived, leaving the day before. She left a list of some of the local restaurants within walking distance should we decide to eat out.
Andrea retired earlier than Maggie and myself, as her speaking engagement was in the morning. I offered to drive her into San Diego or let her take the jeep, but Andrea planned to use the car Linda kept in the garage.
With paradise right outside the front door of the house, I was sure my jeep was going to stay parked in the driveway all weekend. We could walk everywhere.
Maggie and I stayed up until well after midnight, drinking and catching up on what had been happening recently, including details on my stalker, or the lack thereof.
“Have you come up with anything yet?” she asked.
I shook my head. I still couldn’t think of one single person I could imagine doing this to me. Stalking was something that happened in a movie or in a magazine article, not something you thought could happen to you or even someone you know. I felt naked and vulnerable to someone who was invisible. I hated feeling like this, having no control over the situation. It was horrible in every sense of the word.
“What about Jailbait?” asked Maggie. “He was an immature little shit.”
I thought about the idea for a minute. I couldn’t really see him exerting the effort into stalking me, but maybe.
“I thought of Steve at one point, but honestly, I just can’t
see it. Stalking would take some effort on his part and effort to do much of anything is way too much for Steve,” I said. “But, I will mention it to Officer Campbell when we get back. Whoever it was drove a beat up old four-door, and Steve owns a truck.”
“Loser guys have loser friends,” Maggie pointed out. “I’m sure most of his friends can’t afford much in the way of vehicles. And I’ll always think of him as Jailbait, not Steve, because you were doing the whole cougar thing with that one.” She giggled, punching me in the arm, gently.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “I will definitely mention his name when we get back, have them check it out at least. I really don't think Steve is stalking me. And I hate the name Jailbait. It makes me look bad too, you know.”
Maggie just laughed at me and poured more wine in both of our glasses.
“Does the idea of a stalker scare you, Em?”
“Sometimes. I’m more annoyed than scared at this point. Whoever it is hasn't tried to hurt me. It's just so frustrating, not knowing who it is and the creepiness of being watched. That's what bothers me the most. I don’t think they would try anything really bad, breaking in or attacking me with Lucky around. I think Lucky would scare anyone off.”
Maggie quickly agreed with me. Lucky was intimidating with his size and protectiveness. He was a very gentle dog and harmless, unless someone tried to hurt me. I hoped.
“Are they sure it’s a man?” Maggie asked.
“It was a guy that put the note in my door,” I told her. “We checked out the video camera. He had a hoodie pulled up over his head, hiding his face but we could see his hands, definitely a man hand. Rough looking and hairy. Needed a manicure, too.”
“Hey!” Maggie exclaimed. “Maybe that bitch you worked with when you first came down here is behind it! What was her name? The one that made your life a living hell for a while. I remember all the phone calls when she was driving you crazy. She was really mean to you, wasn’t she?”
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