Page 33 of Love Out Loud

Chapter Thirteen

Jake made another round of the Washington Square Arch. Even his earlier run hadn’t worked off his extra energy. He needed to get this thing with Fiona under control. As he scanned the park, he congratulated himself on picking the perfect meeting place. There was no way his mind—or body, for that matter—could wander into dangerous territory surrounded by all these people. It would be good for Fiona, too, he decided. Hopefully, she’d practiced so that she was able to read the speech without distractions throwing her off.

It was probably unkind of him to make her first reading happen in public, but nobody would pay attention, and he needed the break from being alone with her. From her peach-smelling hair, to her funny half-smile when she was trying to be serious, to the way she kissed and the little noises she made—the woman got him going, which was not good.

Where was she? He stationed himself on an empty bench when a couple who had been reading poetry to each other vacated it. It was a gorgeous day, probably one of the last warm ones of the season. He smiled. He would miss Fiona’s tight little T-shirts with the silly logos when things cooled down to jacket weather.

Squeak, squeak, squeak,came from behind, and he grinned. He’d know the plaintive cry of Sir Squashalot anywhere.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Have a donut,” Fiona said, thrusting a box in his lap.

Her quirky greeting caught him a bit off guard, but donuts beat the hell out of “good morning,” he supposed. He’d rushed here after showering and hadn’t eaten since last night. The run had left him starving. “Thank you.”

She sat on the bench beside him, and the dogs stood facing him, both eyeing the donuts with something that could only be described as lust.

“No people food,” Fiona admonished. “Down.” Both dogs lowered to their bellies. “Stay.” The gold one sighed, and the gray one—Jake thought his name was Otto—licked Sir Squash before putting his chin on it like a pillow.

“Did you have a chance to work on the speech?” he asked, picking up a plain glazed donut from the box.

“I read it to Daisy and Otto. They said I sucked.”

He chuckled and took a big bite. Thank God she’d brought food to distract him. She was not in her scrubs, and her dark hair was down, blowing across her shoulders in the light breeze. She was so natural. He loved it. And, yep, he loved her silly shirts. This one was green with a cat and the words, “Nevertheless, she purrrsisted,” emblazoned over her small, high breasts.

So much for no distractions.Be professional,he reminded himself, focusing on the elderly couple across the park. “Your dogs are not reliable speech critics. They were probably holding the no-people-food rule against you. I’m sure you did just fine.” He took another bite and looked away when the couple, who were easily in their eighties, clasped each other’s hands in a familiar, comfortable way that made it clear they had been in love forever.

Crap. He switched his focus to a girl playing a game on a handheld device. Surely that was safe. “Why don’t you read it for me?”

Fiona’s entire upper body went rigid at the mere suggestion of reading the speech out loud. Everything in him wanted to wrap his arm over the back of the bench and pull her close. To hold her and ease her fear. Instead, he took another bite of donut.

After what felt like an hour but was probably ten to fifteen seconds, she pulled some papers out of her backpack. He smiled at the pizza sauce stains on the back of the pages.

She stared across the park for a moment and then began to read. Her voice was soft and tentative, as he’d assumed it would be.

“Very few things worth doing are easy…” She set the fluttering papers in her lap and took a deep breath. Rather than interrupt or coach, he remained silent and still, hoping she’d work through whatever block she’d thrown in her own way.

“…and worthy accomplishments are rarely the result of a single person’s actions.” She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, clearly miserable.

“Would it help if you delivered the speech to the dogs instead of an invisible audience?” he asked.

Opening her eyes, she focused on her two little dogs, who were looking under the bench at a poodle playing with a ball behind them. When she spoke, her voice was stronger and had lost its waver. Perhaps the speaking-by-proxy thing he’d seen her do so often was the ticket.

“I am honored to accept this award, and even though I am the only one standing at this microphone tonight, there are many other people who made this project possible.”

At that moment, a couple walked by, arm in arm. They stopped under the arch at the center of the park, and the guy dropped to his knee. In a loud voice, he proposed to his partner, who, with teary eyes and lots of applause from onlookers, gave a hearty, “Yes.”

So much for less distraction. After a woman took photos with the groom-to-be’s phone, things settled down again. But not for long. Just when Fiona picked up her papers to begin again, a string quartet started up a waltz, and the elderly couple began dancing. It was obvious they’d danced together longer than Jake had been alive. They twirled in slow circles as onlookers watched and recorded them on their phones. Shit.

He closed the donut box.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said, shoving the papers back into her backpack.

“What a beautiful couple you are,” a woman said, setting up an easel in front of them. The dogs pulled on their leashes, wagging and panting to greet her. “Would you like a portrait?” she asked, whipping out a piece of charcoal. “I can put your dogs in, too.”

They looked at each other, and for a moment he thought from the serious look on her face and her quavering lower lip that Fiona was going to cry, but then, to his complete surprise, she burst out laughing.

She stood. “Thanks for the offer, but we’re late to get somewhere.” She dug in her back pocket and handed the woman a couple of bills, not making direct eye contact. “I bet that couple over making out near the arch would like a portrait. They just got engaged.”

Still laughing, she grabbed her dogs’ leashes, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and glanced back at him.

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