My Own Mr. Darcy (12 page)

Tears stung the corners of
my eyes. “I know, Mom. That’s the problem. I can tell he really likes me and it
isn’t fair to lead him on.”

“Have Chad or Matt said
anything about dating exclusively?” Laura asked.

“No.”

“Then stop worrying so
much.” Mom stroked my hair. “You deserve to have enough time to decide what’s
best for you. Until one of them asks for more, you’re not doing anything wrong
by dating both of them.”

“But I know what I want,”
I said.

“Are you sure?” Laura
asked.

“I’m positive.”

“Don’t cut off Chad until
Matt gives you a reason to,” Mom said. She wiped the tears that had spilled
onto my cheeks. “Okay?”

I nodded and picked up my
phone.

LIZZIE: LOOKING FORWARD
TO THE SWIM MEET. HAPPY THANKSGIVING. BE SURE TO EAT LOTS OF PIE.

I didn’t hear from Matt
over the Thanksgiving weekend. I buried my disappointment by reminding myself
he’d gone to Arizona to be with his family, so he was probably very busy. When
he came through the line at the bank the Monday after Thanksgiving, it was
business as usual until I handed him his bank bag.

“Are we on for lunch?” I
asked.

“I was planning on it,” he
said.

Lunch was a travelogue of
his trip to Arizona. I was a little disappointed when he said his trip had been
slow-paced and relaxing. I wanted to tell him I’d hoped he’d call or text but I
didn’t. I didn’t want to be one of those demanding girls.

“What did you eat for
Thanksgiving dinner?” I asked. I wondered what vegetarians ate instead of
turkey and sausage stuffing.

“I ate the same things you
did, I’m sure.”

“You ate turkey?”

“I try to eat healthy but
I’m not a strict vegetarian. I eat meat a few times a year.”

“Your mom was probably
glad not to have to find a soy alternative to turkey.”

“My mom wouldn’t have had
to worry about it. She had the meal catered.”

“Thanksgiving? Catered?” I
couldn’t imagine Thanksgiving without cooking the turkey and making the pies.

Matt laughed. “Yes,
Elizabeth. Even Thanksgiving. My mom doesn’t like to cook and since she can
afford not to, she doesn’t.”

“I don’t even know what
your Dad does,” I said.

“Dad owns a large
construction company but Mom has money from way back. Her grandfather owned
part of a railroad company. He made a fortune when he sold it. My share of the
money is what bought this bookstore.”

Matt’s wealth explained
why he carried himself so much like Mr. Darcy. He was like him in more ways
than I had realized.

It was almost time to go
back to work. I wrapped up my half-eaten stuffed pita.

“Elizabeth, we’re hosting a
Christmas book event on the 21
^st
. Three authors will be here to give
presentations and sign books. Don’t worry, nothing too controversial. It’s
going to be more like a reception. I was wondering if you’d like to come. As my
date.”

“I’d love to.” Finally we
were moving the direction I’d been hoping. “And I promise not to fight with any
of your guests.”

Matt smiled. “I figured I
could leave you unmuzzled at this event.”

We walked out onto the
porch. Matt squeezed my shoulder. “I missed you, Elizabeth.”

I was glad.

I was next in line to pay for
my swim meet ticket when someone grabbed my hand. I looked up to see Chad
grinning at me. He pulled me past the woman at the table. “She’s with me.” The
woman nodded. When we were inside the doors, he hugged me tightly. “Oh, it’s
good to see you. Did you have a nice weekend?”

“It was great. I love
Thanksgiving food.”

“I think you just love
food, period.”

“You’re probably right,” I
said.

“What are we eating
tonight?”

“Why don’t you choose
tonight? Surprise me.” We walked to the end of the bench I’d sat on before.

“Sorry you have to sit
alone.”

“I really don’t mind.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

The meet was a success. Taylor
Kennedy took first place in both his races. It was hard to tell if he or Chad
was more excited. Carter was sick but still managed to win his race by more
than a body length. Mt. Hood won came in first and Chad grinned as he walked
toward me after the meet.

“If you’re not in a hurry,
let’s run to the grocery store. We can go to my place and make chicken Alfredo
and garlic bread.”

“Mmm, that sounds
delicious.”

We walked through the
aisles of the grocery store, gathering ingredients. We added a carton of
toasted almond fudge ice cream and then drove to Chad’s house.

I deboned the rotisserie
chicken and toasted the garlic bread while he made the sauce and cooked the
noodles.

“Tell me about your
Thanksgiving,” I said.

“It was the usual. Grandma—the
one who gave me that lovely couch—came from Seattle. Allison was home from
college. Mom’s a great cook, but Dad always does the turkey. It was a good
weekend.”

I set the small, square
table in the kitchen with plates on opposite sides. After I pulled the garlic
bread out of the oven, I discovered Chad had moved one of the table settings so
now they were kitty corner to each other. Chad gave me a mischievous smile when
I looked at him.

Dinner was good and the
conversation was even better. We talked about our families, food, and movies.
We debated whether Batman or Spiderman was the better movie franchise. Somehow
we evolved into a discussion about his grandpa’s losing battle with cancer.
Chad had been in college when his mom called him with the news. “Grandpa had
gone to the doctor with a nagging headache,” Chad explained. “A few tests
later, they knew he wasn’t going to live more than a month or so.

“It was terrible. I got in
the car and drove straight there. I spent three days there with him and Grandma.
They’d given Grandpa something for the pain so he seemed almost normal. We went
to a Washington Huskies football game and we watched several John Wayne movies
since they were Grandpa’s favorites. The day I had to leave to go back to
school, Grandpa took me into the garage and gave me his tool chest. I still get
a little choked up when I use one of Grandpa’s tools on this house.”

I couldn’t help it. I
reached out and put my hand on Chad’s arm. He looked at my hand and covered it
with his. “That was the last time I saw Grandpa alive. He called me the day
before he died and said, ‘Well Chad, I think this is it.’ I hardly recognized
his voice. I told him I wanted to come back up to see him and he said no. He didn’t
want me to remember him confined to his bed. He said to remember him the way he
was when I’d been there a few weeks earlier, so I didn’t go back until the
funeral. It was hard.”

“I’m sorry, Chad. He
sounds like a wonderful man.”

“He was.” We were quiet
for a moment. I looked down at my hand on Chad’s arm. It had been a mistake to
put it there. I wanted to do right by Chad and it was getting harder and harder
to keep things light and casual. I meant to move my hand. I really did. And
then I didn’t have to, because Chad moved both of his hands. One arm still
rested on the table but the other came up behind my neck, under my hair. Slowly
he pulled me close. I could have pulled away, but I didn’t. Instead I let him
kiss me. Even then, I meant to pull away, but my heart was racing and his lips felt
so nice I didn’t want to move. So I kissed him back instead. And then he rested
his forehead against mine, his hand still behind my neck and told me I was
amazing. So I put my arms around him and kissed him again.

After we kissed, we ate
ice cream. I hardly tasted it because I couldn’t decide if I should kiss Chad again
or tell him we should never see each other again. When he took me home, I stood
on my tiptoes and kissed him, shutting out every thought except his lips and
his arms around me. Then I went inside and cried myself to sleep because I was
falling for the wrong man and I had to do something about it before I
devastated one of the best people I’d ever met and ruined my chance with the
one I’d been waiting for six years.

“DID YOU SEE
the new
episode of
Crimson and Clover
last night?” Matt asked.

“I wasn’t home last night.
Was it good?”

“I laughed through the
whole thing.” I’d have liked to see that. Laugher was a rare commodity when it
came to Matt. “Where were you?”

“Mt. Hood High had a swim
meet.”

“Do you know someone on
the team?”

“The coach is my friend.”
Something about that answer felt dishonest.

“What’s her name?”

“It’s not a her. His name
is Chad.”

Matt looked at me for a
long moment. I hoped my face didn’t look as flushed as it suddenly felt.

After an awkward pause our
lunch conversation continued as usual. Matt shared the plotline of the sitcom
he’d watched and we talked about a robbery that had taken place just a few
blocks from the bookstore.

Matt walked me out to the
front porch when it was time for me to return to work.

“Do you have a swim meet
on Thursday?” Matt asked. The question had an edge to it.

“No.”

“Let’s go out to dinner.
Somewhere nice.”

“That would be great,” I
said.