Page 8 of Return on Love

Greg sees the ring on my finger. “So you’re already engaged? Why did you lead me on? Though I don’t mind it if you don’t,” he says, loud enough to be heard by everyone despite the loud music.

Before I can respond, his gaze falls on Ryan. “Ah, here’s my favorite. How’ve you been, man? Great party,” he says to Ryan, thumping him on the back like old friends.

I gulp down my juice, wishing I had taken a glass of wine instead. It would’ve helped with the impending encounter.

Ryan nods at me. I take a step forward, to introduce myself and deliver the basic pleasantries I’d been rehearsing for the past week. But as it happens, I’d wasted my time because before I can even get a word out, he just flat-out turns his back on me, casually draping an arm around Greg’s shoulder, and ambles off with him. No “Hi” or “Hello” to me whatsoever!

Perhaps he didn’t recognize me. Or worse! Maybe he did, and that’s why he ignored me. The prick. I need a drink, a stronger one than apple juice.

Greg unfortunately returns in a few minutes. “Well, that’s Ryan. You, of course, must’ve met him?”

I shrug, trying to sound nonchalant, though deep down, I’m a little flustered. I pick up a glass of wine against my better judgement and take a few long swigs. “Not really. But it’s okay,” I add, fearing Greg might suggest meeting him right now. “He needs to meet with these gamers and the rest. There’s no rush to meet him tonight.”

I can almost hear Weber’s voice in my head, telling me how wrong this approach is. I mean, I came here early with the sole mission of connecting with Ryan and Gabriel in this laid-back setting, you know, to make them warm up to me, to trust me. But here I am, practically trying to vanish from the one person I came here to meet. Although, let’s be real, he’s not exactly making it easy, is he?

Some people are now dancing. Greg tries to cajole me into shaking a leg. “Your fiancé isn’t here, right? C’mon, you’re entitled to some fun,” he says, but I catch Ryan looking at me with a raised eyebrow. The guy seems to be waiting for the moment I make a fool out of myself, but I won’t give him the pleasure. I politely refuse, not because of Ryan, mind you. I couldn’t care less what he approved of and didn’t, but Greg's vibes don't resonate with me. He constantly has a cunning look, as if trying to uncover your innermost secrets. In short, I don’t like him. Ryan's camaraderie with him could contribute as well.

Thankfully, Gabriel struts over in my direction and takes me away from Greg. We sit by the large windows, appreciating the stunning views of the city skyline and the harbor, sipping on some wine. Okay, I admit, I’ve had more than I’d planned to. Gabriel is easy to talk to, and I don’t even realize when he refills my glass. He tells me about the city and asks me about LA. We talk about books and Star Wars. I somehow make it through another hour and then call it a day. I’ve got the perfect excuse that I’ve been traveling and need some rest.

I bid adieu to Gabriel, my newfound friend, and call an Uber. But how can the evening end without any incident whatsoever? I’m inclined to think Loki is real. So here’s what happens. I’m about to make my great escape when I hear Greg’s voice calling my name. What is with this man?

“Hey,” he says with a sly grin, “my little ray of sunshine in this cloudy place. Don’t tell me you’re ditching us already. Got a secret admirer waiting for you?” He adds a wink for good measure and hands me a glass of wine. I’ve had my quota of two and then one more. My head is already buzzing. A fourth will undo me, and I know better than to succumb.

“Only work,” I retort, not in the mood for playful banter.

Then, out of the blue, he drops a bombshell. “I heard you didn’t exactly hit it off with Ryan back in grad school. You here on some kind of revenge mission?” His smile grows even slyer, and it ignites a fire in my cheeks. How dare he make such comments? Did Ryan tell him about it? It sure seems that way. They’d walked away like best buddies earlier.

I take a deep breath to calm myself. I’m a guest here, in a professional capacity. “As a professional consultant, l don’t do revenge,” I reply in an even tone.

But he’s not one to let go easily. “Chill, gal! I was just kidding. You staying close by? I can accompany you back to your hotel if you like. Your boyfriend needn’t know.”

I down the glass of wine out of reflex. God knows I need it to deal with the likes of Greg. I’m sure my adult brain can handle another glass for a few more minutes.

“Thanks for the offer, but no. I’m on a jerk-free diet right now. Gotta keep myself mentally healthy.” That seems to have got him.

I hurry past the reception, wobbling a little. The alcohol is already doing its number on my brain. Glancing at my phone, I notice my Uber is already waiting. Thank goodness for that. I just want to leave without causing a scene. But alcohol and high heels are a potent combination. I stumble and feel myself falling. Panic surges through me.

Everything goes slow-motion after that. I see the doorman trying to run to me. The cab driver sticking his neck out to see what’s happening. My back lurches and my head turns upward. Anytime now I’ll hit the ground. But then I feel my fall abruptly break. Strong arms around my back are holding me by the waist. As my head falls on the shoulder attached to the arms holding me, I can feel a warmth and a smell that reminds me of comfort and home. It is as solid and reassuring as an oak tree. I blink my eyes open and find them staring into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s becoming harder to keep my eyes open. I try again and see the blue of the ocean. And then all goes blank.

Chapter 5

“Be mindful of your thoughts. They’ll betray you.”—Obi-Wan

I wake up to a pulsating head. The light makes my head throb and I shut my eyes. I try again, peeling my eyes open with a gradual, deliberate ease, letting the world seep in bit by bit and look around. For a hot second, I can’t place where I am with all the foreign vibes. Then realization dawns on me. I’m in Boston, and this is my apartment for the next three months.

There’s a bottle of water next to my bed and some aspirin. Was it here when I left for the party last night? Must’ve been. I shrug and gulp it down and don’t stop till I’ve put the last drop inside my system. Hydration. That’s the key to get over a hangover.

I’m still wearing my party dress, but my sandals are neatly placed by the bed. Wow! It sure looks like I wasn’t that wasted last night if I had enough sense to open my footwear and arrange them neatly. I’m impressed with myself. I safely made it back to my apartment. No harm done. I hope. I chuckle as I remember Greg’s face after my burning response to his outrageous flirty behavior.

Most times, I can never come up with a good repartee on time. When someone insults me or says something uncalled for, I mull over it for a few hours or sometimes even days before I can think of a proper response. Maybe alcohol is my thing. I think I’ve outgrown that two-drink rule and can now handle more. Hell, my brain probably works better with more drinks inside. The sober me would never have countered Greg like that. I’ll need to tell Lily. She’ll be super proud of me.

I step out of my bedroom. The curtains are all drawn. Weren’t they open when I left last evening? I honestly can’t remember for sure. Did I close them to make it easier for me to sleep if I came back late? That calls for another wow! Doesn’t sound like me, but apparently this is me. A new me. Boston has done something to the old Eva.

I groggily switch on the coffeemaker, attempting to piece together the hazy memories of the night after I left Greg. I have a feeling of looking at the ocean. Well, it was close, so I must’ve gotten a good look at it. My heart beats a little faster as I remember the beautiful blue, a warm feeling and powerful arms around me. Did I come home with someone? Greg? A wave of nausea engulfs me at the mere thought.

I examine the tiny apartment. No sign of any male presence—no clothes, no shoes scattered about. I sneak over to the bathroom. No one. At least I’m fully clothed, which is a relief. Still, a strange twinge of disappointment is nagging at me, as if I half-expected someone, not Greg, mind you, to be in there. I want to call up Lily and tell her about this, but I can already hear her laughing and telling me to get some.

It’s just my body telling me what it needs, I reason with myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve been intimate with anyone. A few dates set up by friends, and by friends, I mean Lily, had come and gone, but none had progressed beyond a casual dinner.

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