Against All Odds (Searching for Love Book 4)

by Kelly Myers

  “Dean,” I say.

  The name feels strange in my mouth. It’s just new, I tell myself. I could get used to saying it.

  Beatrice and I set out walking. She lives in Lincoln Park as well, but several blocks away from me. We have to turn in different directions once we hit Webster.

  “Can I offer you one last piece of advice?” Beatrice asks.

  “Since when do you need permission?” I ask.

  I pull my coat closer around me. It’s getting colder by the day. Soon I’ll have to break out my heavy-duty coat to combat the Chicago winter.

  “It’s a bit malicious,” Beatrice says. “But you should mention your upcoming date at the office.”

  I wrinkle my nose. I never talk about my personal life at the office.

  “Just in a way that it reaches Michael,” Beatrice says. “He needs to be aware that you’re moving on.”

  “That’s a bit sneaky,” I say.

  Beatrice shrugs.

  “Men are sensitive,” she says. “When he hears you have a date, he’ll go find someone to date as well. Someone more appropriate for him.”

  I tighten my grip on my bag. The idea of Michael taking some anonymous woman out to that cool new sushi restaurant makes me want to punch something.

  “You have no right to be upset by that,” Beatrice says.

  She can read me like a book, even when I try my best to hide my emotions.

  “I know,” I say.

  We stop at the corner of Lincoln and Webster.

  “I’ll text you later, ok?” Beatrice says.

  “Yes,” I say. “And thanks.”

  Beatrice leans forward and gives me a hug. She’s not the most touchy person, so when she does show affection, it’s quick and brusque, but it still means a lot.

  “You’re gonna get through this,” she says.

  We part ways, and I head home at a brisk pace.

  I wanted to tell Beatrice that I knew I was going to get through this, but I couldn’t quite find the words.

  Because I’m just not sure anymore.

  15

  The devil works hard but Beatrice Dobbs works harder.

  She had my date with Dean set up only two hours after the spin class ended.

  The very next day, Dean texted me. He got straight to the point, but joked a bit about how blind dates can be awkward. It was a good text. Perhaps even an exemplary text. It didn’t make me all fluttering with excitement, but I can at least admit it was a good text.

  Our date is tonight at a ramen place downtown. I do love ramen, and it is the perfect choice for the colder weather. Plus it’s Thursday, which is a good day for a first date. There’s none of the pressure of Friday or Saturday, but it’s not as depressing as a Monday.

  I should be excited. I should.

  It’s just because Michael has been distracting me. Not that he’s done anything. He’s been back on his best behavior, although who knows how long that will last?

  I kept glancing at him all day today at work, wondering how I could casually mention my date. It was no use. Michael sticks to only work-related topics, and we’re never alone in a room. Which is good. I need to stop feeling disappointed by that.

  By the time I was heading home, I had decided that there’s no point in mentioning a date that hasn’t even happened yet. I can mention it tomorrow, after the fact. Maybe I can just tell Audrey, the office manager. She’s a huge gossip, so she’ll spread it around to everyone within hours.

  Although she might think it’s weird if I, all of a sudden, tell her I had a date. Audrey and I have never chatted about our personal lives before.

  I dismiss that problem and return my focus to my closet. I need to choose the perfect first date outfit.

  The maroon dress is, obviously, not an option.

  I reach for some black high-waisted jeans. Simple. Casual, but not too casual.

  I select a nice dark green sweater. Ramen is cozy food, plus I look good in green. No one wants to show up to a blind date and be a disappointment.

  Not that it’s actually blind. Beatrice, good friend that she is, texted me a few photos of Dean. He’s handsome, with dark hair and a perfectly well-aligned face. And he’s clearly smart, and he works at a good firm.

  On paper, he’s everything I’m looking for.

  I pull on my outfit, and then go to my bathroom to fix my hair. It’s getting long, almost to my shoulders. I’ll have to get a trim soon. Marianne is always encouraging me to grow out my dark hair since it’s so thick, but I hate brushing it.

  I swipe on some red lipstick. This is a date after all. It’s important to put effort into this.

  Maybe it would be easier if I weren’t thinking as Dean and this date as a way to get out of my Michael dilemma.

  It’s not exactly fair to Dean, but I can’t help it. Beatrice said that at best, Dean could be my soulmate. At worst, he could be a solid palette cleanser.

  When I’m ready, I pull on my wool coat and scarf and head for the door. My phone buzzes. It’s from Beatrice wishing me luck in our group chat. Marianne and Elena second the sentiment.

  I smile to myself. Even if Dean is just a palette cleanser, I can always share the story with my friends.

  I arrive at the restaurant about five minutes early. I lean against the wall outside. I’m always early for dates, even when I try to be casually late.

  I don’t get nervous for dates. I think of them like job interviews. Marianne says that such a way of thinking is desperately unromantic. Nonetheless, I’m convinced it’s the same thing. You’re just trying to impress someone and find out if they might impress you.

  To my surprise, Dean shows up three minutes early.

  “Zoe?” he asks.

  I smile up at him. He’s just as tall and handsome as his pictures promised.

  We shake hands and head into the restaurant.

  Once we are seated, we go through the usual questions.

  I describe my job, and he describes his. We talk about how long we’ve lived in Chicago, and we both agree that we don’t mind the winters at all.

  The waitress comes over and takes our order. Pork ramen bowl for me, and the same for him.

  “That’s one good thing about ramen,” I say. “Easy choices.”

  “Oh yeah,” Dean says. “When I get a menu with too many options, it’s way too overwhelming.”

  “I always over-order,” I say. “Because I want to try as much as I can.”

  Dean chuckled.

  “And you’re from the Midwest originally?” he asks.

  “Yeah, Indianapolis,” I say. “And you’re Wisconsin?”

  He stares in surprise.

  “Yes,” he says. “Beatrice told you that?”

  “No,” I say. “I just have a really good ear for accents.”

  “I thought all the Midwest accents sound the same,” he says. “At least to me they do.”

  “Oh, there’s a vast degree of nuances,” I say. “I’m something of an expert.”

  “I’ll have to test you sometime,” he says.

  “Bring it on,” I say.

  I smile. As soon as I do, I hear Michael counting in my head. Only he wouldn’t count this one because it’s not quite real.

  I force the thought of Michael out of my head. He has no place here on this first date. A first date which is going quite well.

  I continue to smile at Dean as I ask him where he went to school.

  Our food arrives, and it’s good. I mentally command myself to not compare it to the food I had with Michael in New York. It’s not even worth comparing. They are two totally different types of restaurants.

  “I’m sad this place isn’t in my neighborhood,” I say.

  “You could always order delivery,” he says.

  “With ramen?” I ask.

  “Yeah, they keep the broth and the noodles separate,” he says. “Then you combine when it gets to your place.”

  I nod. It’s a good piece of information to have. Even if nothin
g else comes of this date, my delivery options have expanded.

  We continue to chat as we eat. Dean is nice and smart and everything Beatrice said he would be.

  Most important, he’s safe. I’m allowed to date him, and I’m allowed to have all sorts of feelings about him. He’s not off-limits in any way.

  I know some people only want what they can’t have, but I’m not like that. I have always enjoyed making the right choices. I know there’s a reason some things are forbidden. I relish staying in the correct lane.

  Until now. Dean is great, but there’s no thrill. No rush of adrenaline when he smiles at me. No eruption of butterflies in my stomach.

  That doesn’t matter though. I’m an adult, not some stupid kid. I know that a relationship has to be built on more than just a crush or physical attraction.

  Obviously, physical attraction is important. And I am attracted to Dean. Or I could be, if I can just banish the memories of Michael kissing me from my head.

  “You ok?” Dean asks.

  I shake my head. I’ve been frowning for over a minute.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Just very full.”

  “Me too,” Dean says.

  We get the check, and Dean pays. I offer, but he insists.

  “I’ll get the next one then,” I say with a smile.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Dean says.

  So he’s interested in a second date. I am, too. Or at least, I can’t think of any reason not to be interested.

  After we leave, we walk towards the train station. He lives just over the river, but he says he can walk me to the Brown line. I could take a car, but I actually like taking the train and looking out at the city.

  When we arrive at the steps up to the platform, I turn to him and smile.

  “I had a good time,” I say.

  “Me too,” he says.

  Dean reaches out and touches my shoulder. Then he leans down and gives me a kiss. It’s quick and respectful, and it’s nice. Anything more would have been overstepping.

  “Good night,” I say.

  “Good night,” he says.

  I turn and climb up the stairs.

  Once I’m out of the wind and settled into a seat on the train, I lean back and cross my arms.

  The date was perfect. I haven’t gone on a date that good for a long time. My dinner with Michael in New York does not count as a date. And it wasn’t good, it was a disaster.

  I know that. And yet I still feel glum.

  It might have been too soon. Maybe I need more time to let the memories of Michael fade.

  Then again, I have a remarkably good memory, and I see him every day. If I wait to forget about Michael, I might be sitting around for a very long time.

  I still can’t use that one bathroom at work. I can’t even walk by it.

  And now Michael has also managed to make me upset about an amazing date with a perfect guy.

  I watch the city skyline with all its lights blur past me. Once the train is out of the loop, the buildings turn into brownstones, and the sidewalks are lined with trees.

  Beatrice is right. I’m letting my one misstep with Michael distract me, and I need to force myself to move on as soon as possible. If Dean doesn’t text me by tomorrow, I’ll text him saying I had a good time and would love to go out again. I’m not the type to wait three days or play games, and I don’t think he is either.

  I pull my phone out and see I have a stream of texts from my friends in our group chat.

  How is it?

  Did he kiss you?

  Are you still with him????

  I text them back:

  Really good date! Nice kiss at end, will probably go out with him again.

  They respond with a bevy of emojis and exclamation marks. They’re being even more enthusiastic than usual, which means they’re probably extra concerned about me. I have been something of a wildcard lately. I’ve never called two emergency meetings in the same week before, after all.

  Remember, mention the date casually at work tomorrow.

  That’s from Beatrice. I sigh. She’s right. I’ll have to figure out a way to bring it up tomorrow.

  It will be too awkward bringing it up with Audrey. Maybe I can leave my phone on a table open to a text message from a friend mentioning the date.

  No, that’s way too elaborate. Michael’s not going to look at my phone. He’s not that obsessed with me.

  In fact, he’s probably moved on. He had a good time, but since I made it clear that nothing else will ever happen between us, he’s given up. He hasn’t so much as given me a lingering look over the conference table.

  I’ve been playing it cool as well, but I’m not made of stone. I steal glances of him when he’s bent over his computer, focusing on crafting the perfect email.

  I snort at my stupid thoughts. I can’t feel a spark with the perfectly amiable Dean, but now I’m romanticizing email-writing?

  I look out the window. Maybe when all this is over, Michael and I can just be friends. We can finish this project strong, and then Nick will adore us both. Maybe we’ll both get promotions.

  Maybe it won’t be so bad to hear Nick calling us the dream team.

  It would be nice to have a friend at work. Now that I think about it, there’s no one I’ve ever worked with that I would call a friend. The closest I get to friendship in the workplace is a pleasant acquaintance.

  I don’t know if Michael and I could be friends. After what’s happened between us, it seems like a long shot.

  But still. It would be nice to have him as a friend.

  If that’s what I want though, I have to be clear. And nothing says “friends” like me dating someone else.

  I’ll have to make sure it gets back to him. I can’t take any chances.

  Vanessa, I decide. She’s only a year in, and she’s helping out with our current client. I don't like her that well, but she seems nice enough. And I’m not totally deficient when it comes to a casual conversation. I can figure out a way to bring up a date with her.

  I’ll ask her if she knows of any good date ideas. It’s lame and obvious, but it’s the best I can come up with. I’ll say I’m looking for something fun for a second date.

  Vanessa seems fun. And I’d much rather ask her than any of the guys in my office. I’m so private most of the time, that if I mentioned my dating life to any of my male co-workers, they would probably look at me as if I have three heads.

  So I’ll ask Vanessa, and because she’s cheerful and nice, she’ll of course want to hear all the details. So I’ll tell her about my amazing date with Dean, the Lawyer. And Michael will either overhear or get it from someone else.

  It won’t be easy. Especially if he’s in the room. It will be hard to act like I’m just casually bringing up my dating life. He’ll see right through it. He’ll know what I’m doing.

  That’s alright though. As long as he understands how determined I am to move on. It will be a clear and an undeniable signal.

  I text Beatrice back telling her not to worry, I have a plan.

  The train reaches my stop, and I get out.

  I usually walk fast, but tonight I take slow steps. I tip my head back and look at the sky. It almost feels like it might snow, the first snowfall of the season.

  Dean is great. I remind myself of this fact for about the hundredth time. My parents would love him, Beatrice is already a fan, and he fits into my life perfectly.

  There was just no spark.

  It’s ridiculous that I’m complaining about it. Never in my entire life have I put much stock in the concept of a “spark” between two people. I’ve never felt it, and I always thought the whole thing sounded pretty wishy-washy to me.

  Now, it doesn’t seem so absurd.

  I don’t know if Micahel and I had a spark, but we had something.

  And, there’s definitely a lack of that something with Dean.

  At last, I reach my building. I glance at the sky one last time, but there’s no sign of snow. Not even a
flurry.

  16

  “The client wants to chat now.”

  I stare up in shock at Michael. It’s 10 in the morning, and we have no scheduled call with the client.

  “Now?” I repeat.

  “They have a problem with one of the budget cuts we proposed,” Michael says.

  I stand up and charge for the door.

  “Ok, let’s not hesitate,” I say. “If we take too long, they’ll think we’re scrambling.”

  Michael nods, and we both speed-walk towards the conference room where the video call equipment is all set up.

  As I start to arrange the call, Michael taps my shoulder.

  “Take a breath,” he says.

  I inhale and exhale, and I instantly feel better. My shoulders relax, and my jaw unclenches.

  “Good,” Michael says.

  I give him a grateful smile. I know I look more in-control without stress radiating off my body.

  Once we’re on the call, our instincts take over. I walk the clients through the reasoning without being overbearing. As they hem and haw over the decision to slash a budget, Michael jumps in. He asks them thoughtful questions and gives them considerate answers.

  An hour later, they’re on board.

  We end the call, and I lean back in my chair.

  “We did it,” I say.

  “That was great,” he says. “I thought we lost them for a second, but you reeled them back in.”

  “No, that was all you,” I say.

  I allow myself to relish our victory for another thirty seconds.

  Then I stand up and start rearranging my notes.

  “Alright, now we need to work on the next phase,” I say. “It needs to be foolproof.”

  Michael raises his eyebrows at me, and I try not to look too long at his face.

  “Don’t you ever take a break?” he asks.

  “I just took a break,” I say. “I relaxed for almost a whole minute.”

  He laughs and stands up to help me with the notes.

  I remember what I thought about the night before. Friends. We could be work friends.

  I can do this. Michael is behaving, so I have to take advantage of the olive branch.

  We throw ourselves into work for the rest of the day. Vanessa is there for most of it, but there’s no good time to bring up my date.