My Own Mr. Darcy (14 page)

“We can’t go out anymore,”
I said, looking at the floor.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m so sorry, Chad.”

“What’s going on? What are
you sorry for?

“I didn’t mean to lead you
on,” I whispered.

“Just tell me what you’re
talking about.”

“We weren’t dating
exclusively,” I said. “I mean, we never said we were only dating each other,
right?” Somehow I wanted him to believe that I hadn’t been disloyal.

Just heartless.

“I guess that’s true,” he
said.

“I’ve been dating someone
else, too. And he doesn’t want me to see you anymore.” I nearly choked on the
words. I forced myself to look up at Chad’s face. He looked stunned.

“Is this what you want?”
he finally asked.

I nodded at first and then
I shrugged my shoulders. I realized it was a confusing gesture but it took me a
moment before I could speak. “I think it is. Chad, please don’t hate me.
Please.”

Chad put his arms around
me and I cried into his shoulder. When I finally pulled away, I could see his
eyes were sad and red-rimmed.

Chad shook his head. “Lizzie,
I could never hate you.”

“I feel so bad.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” That only
made me feel worse and fresh tears started.

“I’m so sorry, Chad. You
have no idea how sorry I am.”

“Hey, no more crying.” He
wiped my tears, stood up and walked to the door. “Be happy, Lizzie. If this is
what you want, you don’t have any reason to be sad.”

I nodded but I couldn’t
speak. Chad closed the door quietly behind him.

WHEN THE DOOR
closed, I hurried
to the window and watched Chad walk slowly down the sidewalk to his car. I was
sure I was doing the right thing. So why was my heart breaking?  I wanted to
run after him and tell him I didn’t mean it. Why couldn’t we just be friends?
If I hadn’t let him kiss me, I could have assured Matt that Chad was just a
good friend. I wouldn’t have had to give him up entirely. But I had let him
kiss me. And I’d kissed him back. It was too late to pretend we could hang out
without it meaning anything.

I bit my lip to keep it
from quivering. This was the right thing to do. Chad was too good to toy with
and my mind was made up.

It had been made up since
I was sixteen.

Chad sat in his car for
several minutes. I couldn’t see his face, just his hands resting on the
steering wheel. When he finally pulled out of the parking lot, I dried my tears
and headed for the kitchen.

Usually when I was upset I
liked to clean, but the kitchen was spotless, so instead I made a mess. A big
chocolate chip cookie mess that I didn’t clean up until the next day.

I’d made a monumental
effort to look good for the Oregon National Bank Christmas party. Actually, I
made the effort for Matt and I hoped he would notice. Janessa and I had found a
perfect charcoal gray lace dress. The elbow-length sleeves and waist were
fitted and the full skirt fell just below the knee. Wine-red tights and pewter
ballet slippers finished the look. Janessa helped me with makeup, including
darker eyes and brighter lips than I was accustomed to. We left my hair loose
and curly.

I knew I looked pretty when
I opened the door. I resisted the urge to twirl—the skirt was so perfectly full
it was made for twirling. Matt looked me over, but didn’t say anything. He just
put out his arm for me to take. I berated myself for wanting his compliments. I
knew I looked good. That should be enough, right? So why did I let Matt make me
feel self-conscious when he withheld compliments? I was learning he wasn’t
prone to gushing so I shouldn’t expect him to.

Mr. Darcy wasn’t a gusher
either, right? And yet, he was still fascinated by Elizabeth. The thought gave
me a little comfort.

The Oregon Ballroom at the
Marriott was a Christmas wonderland. Frosted evergreens decked in tiny white
lights lined the walls. Each table overflowed with greenery and sparkling
ornaments. Rows of twinkling lights hung over the dance floor.

We found the University
Branch table and sat with Delia and her husband, Courtney and her boyfriend and
Steve, a loan officer and his wife. Matt was pleasant to everyone and had a
lively conversation with Steve about the financial crisis in Europe. Conversation
waned when they brought the food. Steve had barely cooked prime rib and the
rest of us had chicken with a mushroom sauce.

“Didn’t you order me a
vegetarian plate?” Matt asked.

I hadn’t realized I
could
order a vegetarian plate and Matt had never expressed a desire to have a
special meal. Honestly, I was getting tired of Matt’s food preferences. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t know they offered a vegetarian plate. I thought the chicken
would be the best choice since you don’t like red meat.”

“You know I prefer no meat
at all,” Matt said to me and then turned to signal the waiter. “Is there a
vegetarian offering?”

“I’ll see if we have one,
sir.”

My food cooled as I waited
to eat with Matt. Several minutes later the waiter returned. “I’m sorry sir. We
don’t have any extra vegetarian plates. I can order you a pasta primavera from
the restaurant, if you’d like.”

“How long would that
take?” Matt asked.

“Fifteen minutes perhaps.”

Matt sighed and waived him
off. “Never mind. I suppose this will do.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” the
waiter said.

“I’m sorry Matt. I should
have . . .”

“Don’t worry about it.”
Matt dismissed my apology with a wave of his hand. He must have realized he
sounded impatient because he reached over and patted my hand. “This is fine,” he
said. He smiled but his voice had an edge. When they cleared the plates away,
his food had hardly been touched.

Matt refused the chocolate
cheesecake with sliced strawberries. It was delicious although it was a little
harder to enjoy mine since Matt wasn’t having any.

We turned our chairs
toward the dance floor where a bank executive and her assistant drew names for
door prizes. Matt pulled my chair a little closer and held my hand. Courtney
squealed when her name was drawn for a $100.00 gift card to Harry and David.
She waved the card in the air as she hurried back to our table in her super-short
sequined dress and four inch heels. Then the executive instructed each branch
manager to hand out their gifts. Delia handed out envelopes containing $25.00
gift certificates to a steakhouse chain.

The DJ took over the
microphone and wished everyone a Merry Christmas before he started playing an
eclectic mix of old and new Christmas music. We watched while a few couples
danced to “Last Christmas” by George Michael and “Mistletoe” by Justin Beiber.  When
Bing Crosby started singing “White Christmas,” Matt leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“Let’s dance.”

Although the style of dance
was different, and we didn’t have an impassioned conversation like Elizabeth
and Mr. Darcy, I closed my eyes and let the rest of the room disappear as Matt
and I moved gently to the music. Suddenly, memories of dancing with Chad
intruded on my dance with Matt. I wanted to be here, dancing with Matt, so why
was I thinking of Chad’s hand on my back and his breath in my hair. I opened my
eyes to anchor myself in the here and now. I was in a Marriott ballroom that
looked like a fairy tale and I was dancing with the man of my dreams under
sparkling lights, so why did I feel nostalgic for a high school gymnasium
decorated with construction paper leaves?

The next song was a little
faster. Some of the couples split apart to dance but Matt continued to hold me in
his arms. A wall of mirrors behind the dance floor caught my eye and all
thoughts of Chad disappeared. There was Matt looking tall, sophisticated and very
Darcy-ish. He was holding me in his arms. Me! If I played this carefully, maybe
someday I’d be Mrs. Dawson and Matt would look at me with eyes filled with love.
Maybe he’d even call me his pearl.

“What are you thinking
about?” Matt asked.

“I was thinking that you
remind me of Mr. Darcy. In Pride and Prejudice. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“You think I look like
Colin Firth?”

“No. I think you look like
Matthew Macfadyen. In the Keira Knightley version.”

“I’ve never seen that one.
Actually, I’ve never seen either of them.”

I pulled back to get a
better look at his face. “Really? I’d have thought you would have.”

“Why?”

“You own a bookstore.
Pride
and Prejudice
is a classic.”

“It’s a classic book. Not
a classic movie.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong.
It’s very classic,” I said.

“I’ve never really
understood why it’s as popular as it is.”

“Have you read it?” I asked.

“Most of it. I didn’t
understand the fuss. But I know you girls like it.” I wanted to defend my devotion
to the book and the movie but I didn’t. I was afraid he might suggest we watch
it together and at the moment, I didn’t want to share it with him.

Could Matt be my Mr. Darcy
if he had never seen Pride and Prejudice?
Don’t be silly. Of course he
could. It isn’t like the real Mr. Darcy had a Mr. Darcy to guide his actions.
I looked back at the reflection of us dancing. Me and the tall, proud man I’d
loved for years.

A Katy Perry song drove us
from the dance floor. We said goodbye to those sitting at our table and left.

“Would you like to go to
Peacock Lane?” Matt asked.

“I’d love to,” I said.

Most of the year, Peacock
Lane is an ordinary street of pretty older homes with tidy yards and tall, established
trees. But during December, Peacock Lane becomes Christmas Street. Christmas
lights and decorations transform every home. Families walk, holding children on
their shoulders and reading the captions beside a life size Dr. Seuss or Santa
Claus. Romantic carriage rides carry couples up and down the street, covered in
plaid flannel blankets. Three homeowners work together to provide a beautiful
nativity. The center house features the stable with the Christ-child. The yards
on either side showcase the wise men and the shepherds. Christmas music plays
in front of a few of the houses and once in a while, a group will break out in
a reverent version of “Silent Night” or a rousing rendition of “We Wish You a
Merry Christmas.”