by Liwen Y. Ho
Much to her relief, he seemed to notice her eyes glazing over after talking nonstop for twenty minutes. “I’m sorry, I’m going on and on. I didn’t mean to bore you.”
“No, not at all. I’m learning a lot and taking good mental notes.” She pointed at her head and squeezed out a smile.
“You are too kind. That’s what I picked up the first time we met. You were so generous with your review of the restaurant. I was so pleased when you decided to come with your friends on Friday.”
“It was our pleasure,” Candy insisted. “You know I only write what’s true. You met my standards of excellence, fair and square.”
He beamed then stood up. “How about we settle on the couch for a movie? It’s a rare evening that I take a night off from work to spend it with a beautiful woman. This is a special night for me.”
She smiled and followed him to the next room. It was obvious he was flirting with her. She sat down beside him, smoothing her skirt as she crossed her legs at the ankles. She’d stuck to one of her professional outfits but also let her hair down—literally. She didn’t want to come across as too uptight. But it was clear that she and Chef Pierre were cut from the same cloth.
His house in Menlo Park was one of the many upscale, multimillion homes in the area. He looked the part of a successful professional as well in his name brand polo shirt and dress pants. His home was immaculate, decorated in rich hues of browns and creams. The couches matched the rugs and artwork on the walls. The throw pillows—she’d never known a man who owned throw pillows—were also in complementary colors. The place resembled her own condo. They even had the same color-coded filing tray for mail. Chef Pierre was someone she could relate to … in comparison to another man.
An image of Colin’s living room suddenly came to mind. The one time she had visited Colin and Darren’s place had been shocking, to say the least. There hadn’t been a clean space to sit on the couch. Worse, Colin had to offer her water in a plastic cup because all the dishes were dirty. That was when she’d realized they would never work out. They would drive one another crazy, he with his messiness and laidback ways and she with her tidy, perfectionistic tendencies.
It was too bad though. Colin was the only man who could make her laugh.
Candy wondered if Chef Pierre had a funny bone in his body. The opening scenes to a comedy began rolling across on the large flat screen TV, prompting her to chuckle. The man beside her, however, didn’t even bat an eye. His face was stoic as he stared at the actor who was making silly, exaggerated facial expressions. She didn’t understand how anyone could keep a straight face, but it seemed Chef Pierre had supernatural powers of restraint.
The one thing he didn’t seem to mind showing, however, was his physical display of affection. Candy stiffened as she felt his arm reach over the back of the couch. His hand found her shoulder and promptly began caressing it, squeezing and massaging it with his large fingers. After a minute, he began strumming his fingers along her upper arm, from his index finger to his pinky, then back again. She cringed, completely too distracted by the movement to enjoy the movie. Gritting her teeth, she turned to Chef Pierre. “Don’t tell me you’re a piano player, too? Are you using this time to practice your scales?”
“Hm?” He gave her a bewildered look. “What—oh, you mean, my hand? Do you not like that? My last girlfriend was really into it. She found the repetition quite soothing.”
“It’s not really my thing.” Candy frowned. Neither was talking about his ex, but she decided to let it go. Perhaps he didn’t date much either. “Let’s just watch the movie.”
“Sure.” He nodded and kept his hand still on her shoulder. He faced the TV, his lips set in a straight line again. Tilting his head to one side, he remarked, “I don’t know why this film did so well. I don’t find it funny at all.”
Candy balked. Not funny? She’d just been about to giggle when his comment made her jaw drop. Anyone else would’ve been laughing their head off by now. If Colin were here, he would’ve let loose a hearty guffaw, filling the entire room with his loud, boisterous laugh. Candy sighed. She really loved it when he laughed. He had the ability to be so present and focused when he wanted to be, soaking in a moment for all its worth.
She recalled one day last summer when they had been coming up with names for a new peanut butter ice cream. He’d burst out laughing more than once at the crazy ideas that popped into his head. Utta Nutta. Mount Nutmore. Nuttin’ But Trouble. Candy had had no choice but to laugh right along with him until her stomach hurt. She had no idea she could laugh so much until Colin helped her loosen up. Now things that she wouldn’t have found funny before, she couldn’t help but laugh at.
“I’m actually enjoying it,” she stated. “It has its moments.”
“I suppose so.” Chef Pierre’s droll tone did little to convince her he agreed. The yawn he stifled next revealed his true feelings.
“Why don’t we watch something else,” she suggested.
“You don’t mind?” A look of relief crossed his face. “I’ve got just the thing. I’m sure you’ll love it.”
He grabbed the TV remote and changed the channel. Soon, a documentary about the Times New Roman font popped onto the screen. The announcer’s monotone voice began spewing out facts about its origin. How it had been created for a British newspaper, the Times, and later became popular for books. And now there was an updated, easier to read version—the Times Newer Roman—with each letter being five to ten percent wider.
Chef Pierre turned to her with an enthusiastic grin. “Isn’t this great?”
“Amazing,” she replied with an eye roll when she realized he hadn’t caught on to her sarcastic tone.
Candy looked at Chef Pierre out of the corner of her eye, studying him. From the touch of gray on the sides of his head, he looked to be a bit older than her. She had thought that would be a good thing, to date an older man. Her own father was eight years older than her mom, and they got along well. Candy assumed Chef Pierre and she would be just as compatible. But maybe they were too similar. She was already a stick in the mud; she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. But the last thing she needed was another stick to stay stuck with her.
She shook her head, knowing it was better to end this date earlier than later. With a gracious smile, she informed him that she needed to get home for an early start in the morning.
He walked her to the door and leaned against the frame as he gave her a longing look. “Thank you for coming over tonight. I had a wonderful time.”
“Thank you for cooking for me. It was a wonderful meal.” She hitched her purse strap onto her shoulder and gave him a genuine smile, happy to be escaping his presence.
He took her hand and leaned close, his eyes narrowing on her mouth. “Do you mind if I k—”
The buzzing of Candy’s cell phone sounded, cutting off Chef Pierre’s words. She released the breath she’d been holding, thankful for this timely distraction. “Sorry, I should get this. It may be the TV producer finalizing details for the show.” Needing to put some space between them, she stepped aside for privacy. She heard a disappointed sigh behind her but didn’t turn around. Better to set her boundaries now than lead him on.
Fishing her phone from her purse, she checked to see who was calling. Speaking of not leading men on … Colin’s name flashed across her screen. Knowing she’d likely regret her decision to answer his call, she did so anyway. Between Chef Pierre and Colin, she’d rather take her chances and go with the familiar.
Chapter Seven
Colin
Colin caught onto Candy’s ruse as soon as she answered his call. The fact that she kept referring to him as Priscila pretty much affirmed that her date with Chef Pierre was not going well. “Let me guess, you’re trying to get out of your date,” he remarked with a cheeky grin. “Was the food too bland?”
“Yes, of course, I can talk now,” Candy replied with her fake one-sided conversation. “I know how important it is to firm up the details of my appeara
nce as soon as possible. Would you hold on a minute, please?”
He chuckled, pressing the phone to his ear as he heard Candy bid Chef Pierre good night. He felt a surge of victory course through him and pumped his fist in the air. If Darren wasn’t asleep down the hall, he would’ve let out a celebratory yelp. A silent celebration would have to do, but it was a celebration nonetheless. He gave a silent word of thanks to God for opening this door for him. He for sure would be walking through it.
A moment later, Candy came back on the line, obvious relief in her voice. “Hey, I’m back.”
“So what happened with Mr. Three Stars?” he asked with a generous helping of sarcasm. “It’s not even nine. That’s awfully early to be ending your date.”
She scoffed. “We’re not exactly college kids, Colin. We’re responsible adults who know when it’s time to go home because we both have early mornings tomorrow.”
“Hm-hmm, I did notice some gray around the chef’s temple. It’s too bad he can’t keep up with you. Or did you find him to be too boring?”
The sounds of a car engine turning on sounded in the background. Candy raised her voice above the soft purr. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I had a fine time with Chef Pierre. The meal was amazing.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, not at all convinced. “So that’s why you were pretending I was a TV producer? Do you go around lying to all of your dates for no good reason? I almost feel bad for the poor chef.”
“Argh,” she muttered under her breath. “You can stop while you’re ahead, Colin. I already feel bad enough as it is. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to embarrass him either. Your phone call helped me avoid the latter.”
“Embarrass him how? Were you turning him down for another date?”
“Not yet. Although I’m sure that’s where he would have gone after kissing me.”
Colin’s face heated. He hadn’t expected this. “H-he kissed you?”
“Not yet. He was about to when you called. The timing was impeccable.”
He exhaled, relief coursing through his veins. “You’re very welcome.”
“What? I didn’t thank you for anything.”
“You should. I saved you from a kiss you didn’t want.” Satisfied, he leaned back on the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table, only to drop them immediately to the carpet. Using the sleeve of his sweatshirt, he wiped at the stains his tennis shoes had left on the glass tabletop. “So, you’re welcome.”
Candy groaned. “Not so fast. I could have very well saved myself from that kiss. Or I may have just gone for it and let him kiss me,” she added with a teasing lilt to her tone. “It might’ve been fun to kiss a man with facial hair.”
“Really?” Colin rubbed his chin, feeling the light stubble there. “Maybe I should grow mine out then.”
“Colin, we talked about this. No more talk of kissing.”
“I wasn’t talking about kissing you.” He kept his tone light. Two could play this game. “I just thought if you liked guys with beards, other women would, too.”
She scoffed so lightly, the phone barely picked up the sound. “I can only speak for myself. You can take your chances if you want to.”
He grinned. Was that jealousy he heard in her voice? “It sounds like you don’t want me to go around kissing other women.” He knew he had opened a can of worms as soon as the words left his mouth.
“It doesn’t concern me who you kiss or don’t kiss, Colin. You can kiss whoever you want.”
She may have sounded indifferent, but he knew better. He could picture her eyes darkening to a steely gray as she stewed in her emotions. She tried so hard to keep herself in check, especially in front of others. That’s why it had been so surprising to see her fall apart all those years ago when she cried in his arms.
Even with streaks of black mascara running down her cheeks and her nose red from sobbing, Candy had never looked more beautiful to him. He had felt privileged to see her softer, vulnerable side. He had felt blessed that he could comfort her, that she trusted him enough to let down her guard. Trust was such a precious commodity for Candy.
He felt bad messing with her emotions right now, but the truth needed to be said. “I know I can kiss any woman I want to. I’ve kissed a lot since you.”
“A lot? Exactly how many is a lot? Just asking out of curiosity.”
He bet she was curious. Pausing, he pretended to count the fingers of one hand. “One, two, three—you know what, I lost count, there’ve been so many.”
“Hmph,” she replied with a no-nonsense attitude. “Were these all secret girlfriends? Because I don’t recall Aiden ever mentioning you bringing anyone home.”
Colin grinned. Candy was obviously jealous if she wasn’t letting this issue go. “Not secret. Just not serious enough to meet the folks.”
“I see.” There was a long pause. “Thanks for calling when you did, Colin. It was nice to chat, but I need to go.”
“Wait, I’m not done yet. I called for a reason.”
“You did. Okay, hold on a second, will you?”
Silence came over the line as Candy groaned in the background. After a moment, she returned. “Go on, what is it you called for?”
“So as you know, I’m turning the big 3-0 soon. In celebration of this momentous occasion, I’m organizing a trip to Carmel this coming Saturday. I was hoping you could come.”
“Hm-hmm.”
“Candy? Did you hear a word I just said?” He paused, waiting for an answer. When none came, he felt a rush of worry tighten his chest. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I’m just looking up directions to go home. I thought I knew where I was, but I took a wrong turn just now.”
“You’re in Menlo Park, right? I used to do courier runs there all the time. Tell me what street you’re on, and I can navigate you to the freeway.”
“It’s okay, I’ve got this. I have the GPS on my phone.”
“Candy, just tell me the closest street sign you see.”
“I’m fine, Colin. I can figure this out myself.”
“I know you can, but I’d like to help you. It’ll be much faster.”
“I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.”
Colin sighed. How could someone so amazing be so infuriating? He wished he could reach through the phone and kiss some sense into Candy because she was not making any sense at all. He slapped himself on the forehead and groaned. “Candace Connelly, I know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but sometimes it’s nice to let other people take care of you.”
“It’s very nice of you to offer, but like I said, I’ve got everything under control.” Her voice was thin and strained, showing obvious signs of irritation. “I don’t need help.”
“Why are you being so stubborn?”
“I’m not being stubborn.”
“Oh yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not. You’re the stubborn one. Why is this such a big deal to you? We’re talking about directions. I’ve been driving for half my life. I go places I’m not familiar with all the time when I check out restaurants. I don’t know what the big deal is.”
Colin shook his head. Why was this such a big deal? Maybe because he wanted to feel useful? Or he always felt like she was the one who helped him out and he wanted to do something for her in return? Probably a bit of both. But there was also more at the heart of the matter. He replied in a firm tone, “I want to help you because I care about you. I’ve always cared about you, Candy.”
Those words seemed to throw her off because she was silent for several beats. When she finally spoke, her tone had lost its edge. “Colin, you deserve so much more. You deserve a woman who will care for you the same way you care for her.”
He winced. He had to admit, hearing her turn him down again—even as nicely as she did it—hurt. But he wasn’t going to let go, not when he knew she was the one for him. “And you—you deserve a man who won’t give up on you. Now, I know you don’t need help getting hom
e, but I’d like to stay on the line with you until you do. Just to give me something to do since Darren’s sleeping and there’s nothing good to watch on TV.”
“Colin—”
He rushed on before she could protest. “For the record, this has nothing to do with me helping you. You’d be saving me from boredom. Understood?”
She scoffed. “Understood,” she agreed with a hint of a smile in her voice. “I guess it’s your turn to thank me now.”
He chuckled, knowing he’d won the battle. Now, he only had to win the war for her heart.
Chapter Eight
Candy
Candy stood in front of the kitchen sink in her childhood home as she mindlessly ran a sponge over a dirty dish. The place looked exactly how it did years ago before she moved out after college. The same cherrywood cabinets. The same cream-colored linoleum floor that felt cool beneath her bare feet. The same framed photo of her and her sister, Mandy, when they were kids sitting on the corner of the counter.
She’d just finished dinner with her parents as she usually did on Tuesday nights. She reserved this day every week to see her mom and dad and catch up on their lives. As their only living child, she felt the extra burden of taking care of them as they were getting along in their years.
Her father had retired to the living room to watch the evening news, leaving her and her mother to talk in the kitchen. She enjoyed these moments alone. If her sister’s illness and passing had brought about anything positive, it was that her family had grown closer over the years. Her mom was the one person she trusted to tell her the truth and to speak it in love. And she had a knack for knowing when Candy had something on her mind.
“Here, let me, sweetheart.” Her mom appeared at her side, in a casual outfit of an emerald green sweater and dark jeans. Aside from her silver-streaked hair and some wrinkles around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, she could easily pass for Candy’s older sister. Mrs. Connelly moved with the energy of someone half her age. She gently shooed Candy to the side and took the sponge and dish from her hands. “At the rate you’re going, you’ll be washing dishes all night. You can do the drying and tell me what’s got you so preoccupied.”