After I graduated from college, I went traveling through Europe for a year with my three roommates from Brown. My grandparents funded the entire trip. They told me to get everything out of my system because they expected me to come back and be a grown-up. In Europe I went to every museum possible, spent a lot of time watching live music, and even more time chugging back the wine.
Still, I was the only one of the girls who didn’t have a different guy in her bed every night. I had plenty of offers—European guys don’t hold back. I remember once in Barcelona I met this beautiful Basque man, suitably named Romeo. We hit it off immediately and the attraction was strong. I kindly turned down the offer to go back to his place that night because I had planned to get up early the following morning. My plan was to take the three-hour train to Madrid. I was dying to get back to the Reina Sofia Museum so that I could stare at Picasso’s Guernica a little longer. I thought since Romeo and I were obviously into each other, I would invite him to come along to Madrid with me. He admitted he had never been to the Reina Sofia. I thought what Basque man would not want to see this amazing work of art that has so much historical significance to his people? He wasn’t intrigued; he turned me down and continued his conquest to find a woman to bed that night.
The next day, I stood in front of the giant Guernica, wondering what Picasso had been thinking, when it occurred to me that it’s more about what he was feeling: how he projected that into his art is what inspired me. And so it began, my secret and suppressed obsession with the sensitive, tortured, artist soul. An obsession I was still fighting tooth and nail and one I wouldn’t admit to anyone, namely myself.
The two years after Europe I spent living with my mom and David in Ann Arbor, trying to figure out what to do with my life. It seemed like I was always so scared I would make bad decisions. I dated no one because the guys I was attracted to didn’t seem suitable for the future I envisioned. I gave piano lessons to kids, studied for the MSAT, and researched colleges for grad school. When my father died, the decision to move to New York was made for me. Still, I was determined to stay focused on success. I would only pursue sensible relationships while I worked on getting Kell’s back to its glory and I would continue working toward a bigger career in business. I knew art and music would always play a role in my life, but I refused to fall into the bottomless and crowded vat of starving artists.
The bells on the door to the café jingled as Mister Suitable walked in. He was well-built, on the stocky side, and definitely shorter than Will, but in great shape. He was wearing perfectly tailored gray suit pants, a white dress shirt, no tie, top button open and the shirtsleeves rolled up on his thick forearms. He was varsity quarterback handsome. He had pale blue eyes, dark blond hair, and thin lips, with a hint of baby face. He looked like the guys I was used to seeing on the campus at Brown, very upright and all business. I think I was noticeably gawking at him because he had a crooked, cocky grin on his face. If I could have moved, I probably would have looked over to find Jenny in the same condition. A moment later I saw his little mini-me walk in behind him.
Damn! Married with children.
“Hi, welcome to Kell’s. What can I get you?”
He squinted his eyes and quickly glanced down my body and back up, then fixed his gaze on the chalkboard above me. I felt a flush creep up my cheeks at his once-over. “I’ll have a cappuccino and for this guy… Hmm, what is Little Luv’s Cocoa?” he asked while patting his cute four-year-old on the head.
“It’s just hot cocoa,” I said shyly.
Jenny chimed in. “With a giant homemade marshmallow in it… It’s divine and it’s named after her.” She darted her thumb toward me and my face flushed again.
“Your name is Little Luv?”
Cocky Bastard. Handsome, cocky bastard.
“Yes… I mean no. My father used to call me luv.” He nodded and smiled and then looked me up and down again. I felt like he was undressing me with his eyes and I found myself starting to enjoy it.
“Okay, he’ll have the cocoa.”
“Little Luv’s Cocoa,” Jenny corrected. I elbowed her.
“Sorry, yes, Little Luv’s Cocoa,” he said without taking his eyes off me.
“You got it. That’ll be six forty.” As I reached to grab the ten-dollar bill out of his hand, he held onto it for a second too long, forcing me to tug at it. I smiled and gave him his change. “Have a seat; I’ll bring your coffee out to you.”
I glanced over at Jenny, whose eyes were as big as quarters. As the man walked away, she stuck her tongue out at his back in a vulgar gesture like she was licking him. I burst into wild laughter and then stopped abruptly when he glanced back at us.
I didn’t want him to think we were laughing at him, so when I took his coffee to him I said, “I’m sorry about that, it’s just my friend thinks you’re really good-looking.” I saw Jenny glaring at me out of the corner of my eye.
“What do you think?”
I must have been beet red; my plan backfired. Shit, shit. “Um, well, I guess I would have to agree.”