Beautifully Damaged (2 page)

I climbed from bed and made my way down the hall to the kitchen. Lena was sitting at the table having breakfast.

"Hi, Lena. Morning."

She looked over at me. "Morning."

I reached into the cabinet for my granola bars, my standard breakfast, when Lena offered, "I ate the last one."

"Oh, okay. Did you have fun last night?"

Lena leaned back in her chair as a smile curved her lips. "I did." And then her focus zeroed in on me.

"What did you think of Todd?"

I really hadn't had an opinion on Todd considering as soon as the introductions were made I didn't see him again for the rest of the night. In fact, I ended up coming home alone. True, I was running, well walking quickly, for the door after "the incident" but still I came with Lena. She could have at least told me that she was leaving. It was rude of her not to.

"He's very handsome and he seems quite taken with you but what happened to you last night?"

"Todd wanted to leave."

I was on my way to the refrigerator for my coffee beans when she said that. It wasn't just what she said but how she said it. Todd wanted to leave and the fact that she came with me meant nothing?

"You could have told me you were leaving."

When her eyes found mine she actually looked a bit annoyed before she said, "Oh, right. Sorry. I honestly forgot you were with us. You can't blame me, Em, since you act like a wallflower whenever we go out."

I just stood there looking at her as she blamed me for why she and her boyfriend left me. I couldn't lie, that annoyed me, but she was excited about her date so I let it pass. When she stood and started down the hall to her room, I said nothing and turned to make my coffee.

That night I had to work. I stood in the kitchen waiting for Chef to add the mango confit to the scallops as I marveled -- and not for the first time -- at how anyone could afford an eight-hundred-dollar dinner. It boggled my mind but then most things in Manhattan did having been raised the daughter of a Philly dock-worker.

Mom died when I was three and, having been so young, I didn't remember her but Dad was really good about keeping her alive in our thoughts. She was the love of his life and when she was taken so suddenly by a hit-and-run, he vowed he'd never remarry. It was a bit awkward -- especially during my adolescent years -- learning about my period, the birds and the bees, from my dad and his dock-worker friends but they also taught me how to cook the basics, throw a punch, change a tire, overhaul an engine and play a mean game of poker. I wasn't a tomboy but I was introduced to and favored activities that were usually reserved for sons since my teachers were all men; I was okay with that. After graduating from University of Delaware, it was a hard decision to pick up and move stakes to New York City but I wanted to be a writer and the never-ending font of material that the city provided was just too tempting. I spoke to my dad nearly every day and we saw each other for every holiday so it wasn't too bad.

Chef pulled me from my thoughts when he called my name. "Ember...before it gets cold."

"Sorry, Chef."

He grinned before he moved onto the next dish.

I walked out into the elegantly appointed dining room with dark walnut paneling, crystal chandeliers, stone fireplaces and hardwood floors. The starched, white linens provided the backdrop for exquisite flower arrangements, sterling silver flatware, Royal Crown Derby dishes and Waterford crystal stemware. Having come from Fishtown, I hadn't known what any of these things were until I started working here and, despite the beauty of the place settings, I still favored my mix-matched Earthenware, stainless-steel utensils and vintage McDonald's
Star Wars
drinking glasses.

I liked working here since I was practically invisible; the less I spoke the happier my customers were so when it came to tips I raked it in -- my shyness actually being a bonus instead of a hindrance.

I stood in the back checking on my tables and couldn't help but wonder what the owner was like. I had never met him and he apparently never came into his places. I knew that this wasn't his only restaurant in town and not even his most exclusive, so how much money must he make a night that not a table was empty?

My eyes caught Trent, the bartender, as he grinned at me. He was a few years older than me and was a musician who tended bar to make ends meet. He was fun the few times we hung together.

I walked over to my next customers and almost tripped on my own two feet when I saw that they were Todd and Lena.

"Hi, Em. Can you believe it?" she whispered as she looked adoringly across the table at Todd.

"Hi, what a pleasant surprise. Can I get you something to drink while you look over your menus?"

Todd turned those hazel-green eyes on me and requested a bottle of Bordeaux. His French was perfect and though on the surface he was quite charming, an uncomfortable feeling of foreboding worked its way down my spine. Throughout their meal I watched Todd and Lena and wondered what exactly he did for a living that he could afford to bring a girl, who he'd only just started dating, to a restaurant that cost more money for one meal than I made in a week? After dinner they stood to leave and Lena leaned over and whispered, "Don't wait up for me, Em."

She smiled as Todd reached for her hand and pulled her from the restaurant. I grabbed the check and noted that Todd had given me exactly twenty percent tip. Why that rubbed me the wrong way, I couldn't say.

When I returned home after work I was surprised to find Lena home. Based on how she and Todd had been acting at dinner I wasn't expecting her to come home. I dropped my keys on the counter as I walked into living room.

"Lena, what's wrong?"

It was surprise in her expression when she looked up at me. I had the sense she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even hear me entering the apartment. I settled on the edge of the sofa as I asked again.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Todd had to cut our date short. He had some business thing to attend to."

A business thing at ten in the evening -- not likely. "What does Todd do?"

I noticed that her shoulders tensed and she looked defensive when she offered, "He's an investment banker."

I wondered what was up with her reaction to my question but I didn't push it.

"Did you enjoy your dinner at Clover?"

She smiled then before she replied, "It was delicious."

"That must have been a real treat for you."

"It was. He was really excited about landing a big client so it was a celebratory dinner."

"Nice."

"It was, which is why I'm a bit sad that the evening was cut short but I understand; work is work."

I didn't understand what kind of business would pull a man from a date at ten in the evening but I didn't say as much.

"I'm beat. I'll see you in the morning, Lena."

"Night, Em."

In the morning I dressed and hurried downstairs where Trent was waiting. We were heading into Central Park for a jazz festival. It was a beautiful day and as soon as I stepped outside Trent smiled big and pretty.

"Are you ready for a day of jazz, Ember?"

I grinned before replying, "I am."

We started down the street and I could see how excited Trent was since he adored jazz. For him to have an entire day where he could sit under a tree and listen to it, yes, Trent was going to be in heaven. We stopped off at Starbucks for some coffee and then we made our way into the Park. We found a nice patch of grass and sat down. Trent actually lay down and closed his eyes and lost himself in the music.

I leaned back against a tree, drank my coffee and did some people-watching. Sometimes the writer in me crafted stories about the people I saw but today I just observed. There was one couple, hand in hand, giving each other looks of adoration. It was sweet but I had the sense they had yet to have their first argument. As my dad would say, they were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. Another couple walked by with a screaming toddler. It wasn't adoration in their expressions but complete exhaustion. It was the elderly couple passing by that had me sigh. They had to be in their eighties and yet they were holding hands. You could see how comfortable they were with each other after having shared a lifetime together. That was what I wanted: someone who knew me better than I knew myself, someone who knew all the worst parts of me yet still loved me.

While watching the elderly couple, I noticed the tall man further down the path, who was walking toward the music. As he approached I saw the spiky black hair and the tattoo on his arm -- Trace Montgomery. I just stared since I couldn't believe I was seeing him again. What were the odds? I wondered if I was tapping into some latent magic and had the power to conjure him at will since, if I was being honest -- and if you couldn't be honest with yourself then you were in trouble -- he'd been in the back of my mind since we met. He stopped by a tree, leaned up against it and listened to the music. In the days since we met I had convinced myself that I had exaggerated his beauty but, oh no, I hadn't embellished. I had the strongest urge to go over and talk to him. Considering I usually couldn't get past my nerves to engage a man in conversation, the fact that I wanted to engage that man was odd.

I watched as the women approached him but what was interesting was the look on his face as they did. He looked annoyed which seemed rather contrary to his reputation as a player of the first order. He didn't actually engage any of them in conversation and it seemed that when asked something he replied with as few words as possible. You could tell by the looks some of the ladies were giving him that they knew him intimately and yet there was no familiarity in his expression, just irritation. You'd think he'd be more flirtatious but with the expression he was sporting, I was surprised women were brave enough to approach him.

Since I was far enough away from him, I let myself really study his face. He had nice cheekbones, a strong jaw, a poet's mouth and a nose that'd been broken a time or two which kept him from looking too perfect. His face was gorgeous but hard and there was a coldness in those beautiful eyes. I was so lost in that face that I didn't realize that he was looking in my direction and then to my utter horror I realized he was looking right at me. How did I know this you ask? Well, because there was a slight grin on that mouth and damn but that grin was sexy as hell. I blushed, right up to my hairline, as I quickly turned my head away from him. My heart was pounding like a frightened rabbit and I had the sense that those eyes were still watching me. A half an hour later I worked up the nerve to look over. I decided that if he had still been there I was going to walk over to him and thank him for coming to my aid the other night but when I looked over, he was gone.

For the rest of the day my mind happily lingered on Trace. I had the sense that he remembered who I was and that knowledge had the butterflies doing somersaults in my belly. It was foolish for me to think about him since we definitely did not move in the same circles but I couldn't seem to help it. There was something about him that intrigued me. Thoughts of him had taken up residence in my head and I just couldn't seem to expel them -- not that I really wanted to since what was the harm in admiring him from afar?

The following morning I had a 5-k run in Central Park sponsored by Clover. All the proceeds from the day, including the profits from the restaurant sales, were going to various charities supporting underprivileged children. When I arrived I was happy to see the turn out for the event. I registered, got my number, and then moved on to the side to warm up.

I wasn't there too long when I felt the oddest tickle down my spine and I knew who it was before my eyes landed on Trace. I actually felt the air still in my lungs. He was dressed in black sweats and a white tee that was snug across the muscles of his chest and arms. And how so like a man to be able to make sweats look sexy as hell. He came alone but as he moved through the crowds I noticed the people, mostly women, who started to gravitate to him like steel to a magnet.

I moved my eyes from the man to the women and had to resist the urge to scratch my head. Who fixes their hair and applies makeup before going for a run? Their running clothes were not only designer but they looked as if they'd never been worn. I felt like a bit of a slob next to them considering my hair was pulled up into a messy knot, my sweatpants had seen better days and my faded gray t-shirt had shrunk a bit over the years so that the words "May The Force Be With You" were stretched across my breasts.

I watched Trace -- more like stared blatantly -- and I noticed again how he seemed detached from his surroundings, including the women flocking around him. I thought to go over and say hi but the mere thought of doing so, in front of his fan club, made my stomach twist up in knots. And then, like magic, he turned his head and those steel-blue eyes looked right into mine. I watched as his lips curve up on the one side and then to my utter joy he started over to me. I almost swooned, my knees actually started knocking. He really was the most gorgeous man alive and he had the most excellent swagger. His stride was long and yet he moved with a deliberateness that made my mouth water. When he stopped right in front of me, I got lightheaded and then realized it was because I was holding my breath. I released it with a smile just as he spoke.

"Hi."

I had trouble forming words since my brain seemed to have seized up from shock but I did manage a simple, "Hi."

He studied me with an intensity that warmed my blood. Unlike the aloofness I had observed both at that time and the day before, there was a heat in his gaze that had my heart rate speeding up. Somehow I managed to say, "I don't know if you remember me from Sapphire...."

I didn't get to finish my thought when he offered,"...Ember Walsh, I remember."

He remembered my name. I wanted to do a little victory dance. Looking at that face, I couldn't help smiling; he really was altogether yummy.

"I wanted to thank you for helping me the other night."

"I think you were doing pretty well on your own but I was happy to help."