Love and Miss Communication (27 page)

When a different server returned to take their order, Evie said, “I’m going to have the macaroni and cheese with asparagus to start, and then the branzino with—”

“Broccoli instead of haricot vert?” the waitress asked, smiling at her. “I switched tables when I spotted you over here.”

“Tasha?” Evie squinted her eyes to focus on her face, still in disbelief of her surroundings.

“Yep, it’s me. Still working here, still pursuing acting. Got a speaking part on
Law & Order
but it’s only two words. Did get my SAG card though. What’s going on with you, girl?” Tasha’s eyes shifted her gaze to Edward.

“I’m good,” she said. Then realizing everything she said would get directly reported to Jack, she added, “Actually, I’m great. Never been better.”

Edward beamed, oblivious to her reason for amplification.

“Well that’s good to hear. Happy New Year to you both. Enjoy your meal, hon,” Tasha said, and bounded straight into the kitchen.

“Wow, you’re famous,” Edward said. “I thought I was well known after my picture appeared in the paper for six days straight, but nobody knows my order by heart.”

“I used to come here a lot.” At least that was true.

“Well then I’m glad I chose it.” He leaned in closer. “I made a reservation after our first date. I was hoping we’d be together on New Year’s.”

“So thoughtful,” she said, knowing it wasn’t enough but somehow unable to say anything more.

“I made it on OpenTable about five minutes after you left that first night. Call me optimistic.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, again not delivering nearly what she should.

“Obviously I could live without online reservations, but seriously how do you function without the Internet? And, I guess more to the point, why?”

She took a deep breath and swept the room one more time for a sighting of Jack. “It’s a long story.”

“That’s okay. We’ve got until midnight,” Edward said, glancing at his watch jokingly. “I assume you’ll be done before the ball drops?”

“I think I’ll just finish up in time,” Evie said, with mock gravity. She reached for her water glass and took a deliberate sip. “I did quit because of something specific, but there have been all these other reasons for me to keep—abstaining, I guess is the
way to put it best. Functioning is trickier, though I think my fingers have slimmed down.” She flexed her wrists, knowing how she would balk if Edward tried to dodge a serious discussion with a silly joke.

“I could never do it. I use the Internet all the time for research and to communicate with my patients. Don’t get me wrong—I also waste a ton of time online. ESPN.com is my nemesis.”

Actually, your nemesis is in the kitchen, dicing vegetables for your soup right now, she thought.

“Oh really? Yankees or Mets?” she asked, seizing her opportunity for a detour. “I’m Orioles all the way. They have the best chili fries at Camden Yards.” Her father, his face splattered with Worcestershire sauce and shouting from the bleachers, appeared before her. What would he say to his daughter if he knew how panicked she was feeling right now? Probably, “Talk to your mother.”

“Yankees, of course. I think Olivia is ready for her first game next season.” He went on about the Pixar movie he had taken her to the day before, tabling the Internet discussion, much to Evie’s relief.

Why had she clammed up? She could have said Facebook had been too much of a time drain. That she finally saw the absurdity in Foursquaring her location. Or in Instagramming like her life was a perpetual photo booth. Even the truth about her dismissal from Baker Smith. She had multiple Jack-free versions of why she was off-line at her disposal, all of which had sizable grains of truth. But Jack was the undeniable catalyst, and lying—or sharing a partial truth with Edward—didn’t feel right, especially when her ex was fewer than twenty feet away and she could barely gather her thoughts just knowing he was nearby. Because she knew that in fact it was the moment she saw something she wasn’t meant to see—Jack’s body, hand in hand with Zeynup’s,
his face just moments after saying I do—
that
was the moment she wasn’t equipped to handle, the one that led her down this rabbit hole.

When Evie’s and Edward’s first courses arrived, she paused to admire the familiar preparation before sinking her teeth into the perfectly crisped macaroni and cheese. The familiar taste of the creamy mozzarella and sweet asparagus tips topped with seasoned bread crumbs exploded in her mouth. The aromatic steam made her eyes water. She had missed this dish more than she remembered and found herself savoring every morsel. Her plate was nearly licked clean when Tasha cleared it.

“Everything here to your satisfaction?”

Evie flinched when she saw a stained apron out of the corner of her eye. She looked up, and there he was. Looking down at her table, wearing his toque, Jack looked the same as the last time she saw him just over a year ago. Still handsome, still with his confident stance, still with his watery blue eyes that looked like they were on the verge of springing soulful tears. He did seem to have a bit less hair than she remembered. And maybe the beginnings of a gut. Never trust a skinny chef, her mother had said when she showed her Jack’s picture two years ago.

“Yes, the food is wonderful. The butternut squash soup was sublime,” Edward said. “This is my first time here but I’d heard wonderful things.”

Evie wanted to shout “Stop kissing his ass! You’re the one who saves lives.” Instead she just sat in her chair, uncomfortably twisting her fork with her fingers.

“And you?” Jack asked, turning to Evie.

“And me what?”

“Are you enjoying your dinner?” Jack asked, staring at her intently. Edward seemed unaware that the conversation before him was not taking place between strangers.

“It’s good. And I’m good. Never been better, like I told Tasha,” Evie said. Now Edward looked confused.

“Excuse me,” Jack said, turning to Edward. “Would you mind if I borrow your date for one minute?”

Edward mumbled “of course” as his perplexed look morphed into displeasure.

“Sorry,” Evie mouthed to Edward and rose to follow Jack to the back of the restaurant, toward his office.

When the door was closed behind them and they were in private, Jack spoke first.

“Evie, I have to say this: you look brilliant. I have never seen you so magnificent. You’re incandescent.”

“Caroline bought me this outfit.” God damn it. What hope was there for her if she could repeat the same mistake twice within an hour?

“So she and moneybags are still going strong then?” Jack asked, and Evie felt wistful hearing Jack’s familiarity with her friends. It took so long to build history with someone—to get to the point where you could exchange a glance and know exactly what the other was thinking. Or even just to know the foibles of the people in each other’s network of friends and family. There was so much effort involved in bringing a new person up to speed, Evie felt lethargic at just the thought of it. Maybe that was part of why she hadn’t told Edward about Jack yet—pure exhaustion.

Evie faintly nodded at Jack.

“Well, she may have bought the dress for you, but you’re the one wearing it so well.”

“Thanks,” Evie said, looking down at her peep-toe pumps. For some reason, Jack’s compliments were making her feel smaller, each kind word from him taking a quarter inch off of her heels. If he kept going, she’d shrink into a pile of nothingness. Just a designer dress lying bodiless on the ground.

“So Tasha’s still here,” Evie said to fill the silence.

“Yeah, I feel bad. I think she’s got a thing for me.”

Evie didn’t respond. She was accustomed to his cockiness. Shamefully, she found it was still a bit appealing.

“So why are you here, Evie? You weren’t missing my mac ’n’ cheese that much, were you?” Jack asked with an eyebrow raise.

Asshole. He probably thinks I got all dolled up to show him what he’s missing. Evie tried to turn the humiliation around on him.

“No, definitely not. My date chose the restaurant, not me.” She pictured Edward sitting at the table, abandoned and confused. He was her future—her ticket to a happy new year—so why was she in Jack’s office, trapped in her past? “How do you even know what I ordered anyway? Checking up on me with Tasha, I see.” She returned his barb with a haughty eyebrow raise of her own.

“No, I didn’t check with Tasha,” he said, then lifted his pointer finger toward her face. “You have asparagus in between your two front teeth.”

Evie ran her tongue over her teeth, feeling the stringy bit with the tip. It wouldn’t dislodge.

“Don’t worry, I have toothpicks in my drawer,” Jack said, and then surprised her by pulling her arm toward his desk. It was their first physical contact in a year. She felt the texture of the burn on his index finger. She wondered if he felt her goose bumps. In a movie, this was the moment that he would throw her down on top of the scattered papers and extract the asparagus with his own tongue. She thought he might actually do it. But instead he guided her by the wrist over to the desk where in fact he did have a stash of toothpicks. She reached for one, her hand unmistakably shaky.

She sneaked a glance at the framed photographs arranged on his desk. Next to a picture of Jack standing with his father in
front of his first restaurant, a now-shuttered American nouveau café in Chelsea, was a picture of him with his wife in Turkey at what could have been their rehearsal dinner. It was a more professional version of a shot Evie had seen on Facebook.

“That’s Zeynup,” he said, taking note of Evie’s prolonged stare.

Evie avoided looking back at Jack. He didn’t know she knew he was married and she didn’t want her face to give away her lack of surprise.

“It’s kind of funny you’re here, actually,” Jack said. Unless it was “opposite day,” the game she used to play as a grade-schooler, there was nothing remotely comical about this situation. It was proving to be the third New Year’s Eve in a row that Jack had ruined for her—and this one when she had been poised to be so happy. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot in the last year. Well, since I got married.” When she still didn’t spin around or collapse on the floor, he added, “I’m married now. Can you believe it?”

“Good for you,” was the most she could utter. She didn’t expect it to hurt so much—hearing what she already knew. Her better instincts told her to walk straight out of his office and get back to Edward, preserving as much dignity as a girl with food in her teeth could possess. But curiosity was a stronger impulse for her than hubris had ever been.

“You certainly changed your tune on that one,” she said, finally looking at him. “How’s it going so far?”

Jack focused his eyes on something in the distance, avoiding Evie’s face. Whether it was out of guilt or shame or pity, she wasn’t sure.

“It’s interesting, I suppose. Good, bad, fun, tiring, all that stuff.” If he was gunning for a prize in cryptic answers, Evie was ready to hand him a trophy.

“You know what I mean, right?” he asked.

No, I don’t, she thought. Thanks to you. “Totally,” she said. “Any kids on the way?” she asked, a nervous laugh escaping.

“No, no, no,” he said quickly, which relieved Evie until he followed it up with, “not yet, anyway.”

“Well, congratulations.” She would have loved to share news that would rival Jack’s announcement. An engagement. A pregnancy. A promotion. Nothing came to mind. “I’m not at Baker Smith anymore,” she said, pursuing at least a topic change.

Jack seemed surprised, genuinely so. All the times she daydreamed Jack was thinking about her, looking for photos of her with a new boyfriend or checking on her law firm’s site to see if she’d make partner yet, those had all been illusions.

“I quit a while ago,” she said. “I’m pursuing a totally different career now.”

“Good for you, Evie,” he said, in a way that made her feel like he was a politician trained to use people’s first names. “What are you doing now?”

She could, with some modicum of honesty, tell Jack she was the new CEO of Couch Potatoes, a very, very small company based out of her apartment. But surprising even herself, she responded, “I’m a decorator. My business is called Manhattan Maison.” Where the hell was this coming from? She gave herself an invisible pat on the back for inventing such a good name with no forethought.

“That’s wonderful. I definitely recall you rearranging my pitiful flat over and over. I could never find anything. You should redesign JAK, actually. It could use a facelift.”

“It certainly could.”

“Oh, really?” Jack said, like he didn’t actually think his restaurant needed any help. “What refurbishments do you have in mind?”

“Well, the carpet is dated, the light fixtures are casting a fluorescent glow, and the dining chair fabric feels synthetic,” Evie said, her voice gaining bravado with each criticism.

“Then it’s settled. You’ll help me. I’ll e-mail you tomorrow to set up a meeting.”

Evie scrambled for a response. “Well, I don’t really do, food, I mean, commercial spaces yet. I will do them soon. Of course.”

“Well, if you’re interested, you know where to find me.” He winked, or at least Evie thought he did. She had been looking at her toes.

“You should be getting back to your date now, shouldn’t you? We’ve been in here for at least ten minutes,” he asked, with a glance at his watch. It was shiny and looked to be solid gold, maybe part of Zeynup’s dowry.

“Yes, yes. Of course. Edward hates to be kept waiting.” She wanted to make sure Jack didn’t think she was on a first date, that in fact she knew Edward very well. But all she had done was make her date sound like a prick, when she should have said that she was missing him and wanting to get back to the table.

“Well, then you better go. Happy New Year.”

Jack held the door open for her. She paused when she caught sight of a book on his shelf.

“You still have this?” she said, running her finger along the spine: “
Secrets of a Jewish Mother: Recipes for the Soul and the Digestive Tract
.” A gift from Bette to Evie. Three-quarters of the recipes included prunes. Jack insisted he had to have it when he found it stashed in her closet. Said it was the funniest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.