Part 11 (2/2)
I pulled my phone out of my purse and looked at the time. ”We were going to meet with the editing team and then go to lunch around noon. Would that work?”
She smiled again and shook her head. ”I'd love to, but I have an appointment.” She pointed to her forehead and whispered, ”Botox.”
I nodded. ”Got it. Maybe another time.”
”I'd like that. Thanks, Waverly.” She picked up her tea and nodded politely to both of us, then walked out of the kitchen.
I looked at Scotty, who again held his hands up in a what-the-h.e.l.l? gesture.
”Now I feel sort of mean for hating her,” I whispered.
”I don't,” he whispered back.
a a a Thursday morning, I got up at the crack of dawn to tape a new segment at a trendy gym in the West Village. (Getting in shape for holiday parties apparently was on many people's minds). Afterward, I stopped by NBC to discuss a few things with Scotty, rushed home to handle a few orders for Waverly's Honey Shop, took them to the post office, and then sprinted back home again to pack for Cleveland. I'd meant to hit the post office the day before, but I'd been at the studio late working on a different segment with the editing team. When I finally got home, I fell asleep on the couch watching an old episode of Seinfeld. I woke up at two o'clock with the newspaper stuck to my face, then crawled into my bed, and pa.s.sed out again until my alarm went off at five.
Late that afternoon, I jumped into a cab and met Paige at the airport, and soon we were on our way to Ohio. I took the window seat and planned to be asleep in approximately seven minutes.
”We did it,” she said a few minutes after the plane took off.
I looked up from my magazine. ”We did what? We made our flight?”
”It. Gary and I. We did it.”
I opened my eyes wide. ”You hadn't done it yet?”
She shook her head. ”I'm Paige, not Andie, remember?”
I laughed. ”I'm sorry. I just a.s.sumed it was in your shared DNA. So how was it?”
She leaned back in her seat and smiled. ”I think...I think I'm in love.”
”No way. For real?”
She sat up straight. ”OK maybe not love, but I'm definitely in like.”
I nodded. ”In like is good.”
”In like is very good. It's all so good. I can't believe how good it is.”
I tucked my magazine into the seat pocket. ”So what about his kids, his ex, the whole Nashville thing. Doesn't that scare you a little bit?”
She shrugged. ”It's not ideal, but what is ideal anymore? I'm thirty-four years old, and until recently I've been dating guys who are my age-if not older-who still act like they're in college. They don't call or even text when they say they will, they expect you to hop in the sack on the first date, and they're usually dating half of Manhattan along the way. New York is filled with playboys, and I'm just sick of that whole scene. I'd rather date a divorce who lives in another state than deal with another a.s.shole.”
I'd never heard her speak with such conviction. It made me smile.
I thought about what she said before replying.
”I hadn't thought about it until now, but having a boyfriend has definitely made my move to New York easier. Trying to deal with dating on top of everything I've got going on would be too much. At least with Jake, the only issues we're dealing with are geography and our crazy schedules.” Those issues were beginning to concern me, however, and I was really looking forward to seeing him in person.
”See what I mean? Dating is really hard here,” she said.
I nodded. ”I don't think I could take the anxiety of wondering if or even when he was going to ask me out again.” It hadn't been very long since I'd been in that exact position and I never wanted to go back there.
She stuck out her tongue. ”I hate the dating scene here. It's too compet.i.tive for me. On Monday, the night before Gary came into town, I had another date through that dating service I told you about.”
”The one you hate? What did you say it was called? Just Joking Around?”
She laughed. ”Just a Drink, but I call them Just a Joke, because they suck.”
”If they suck so much, why do you keep using them?”
”Because I paid them up front for a set number of dates. That's why they don't care about setting me up with losers-they already have my money. A lot of it.”
”Yikes.”
”Yeah, like I said, they suck. Anyhow, they set me up with this man they said owned his own business, so I figured he had to be interesting, right?”
I narrowed my eyes. ”I don't know if I want to hear where this is going. Am I going to need a drink to hear where this is going?” I pretended to flag down a flight attendant.
She laughed. ”They also told me he was funny, and that he liked wine.”
I held up three fingers. ”Owns own business. Funny. Likes wine. I would say *How can you go wrong?' but something clearly went wrong.”
She nodded. ”So the guy walks in and sits down at the bar, then proceeds to order a gla.s.s of tap water because he doesn't drink.”
”He ordered tap water at a bar?”
”Oh yes. Plain, free, tap water. Nothing else.”
I scrunched up my face. ”Not good.”
”Definitely not good. So then, we start chatting, and despite what the agency people have told me about him, he is not funny. He is the opposite of funny. He is Eeyore.”
I laughed. ”Eeyore? From Winnie the Pooh?”
She nodded. ”He could make Debbie Downer look like the life of the party.”
”I could never understand why Eeyore was so sad all the time. Why was he so b.u.mmed out? I mean, Winnie the Pooh and Piglet and even Christopher Robin seemed fun to hang out with, right?”
She put her hand on my arm. ”Focus, Waverly.”
”Oops, sorry.” I blinked and shook my head. ”OK, I'm focusing. So he doesn't drink, and he's clinically depressed. What happened next?”
”So I'm sitting there drinking my wine while he drinks his tap water, and we get on the topic of our jobs.” She gestured to me and then back to herself. ”I told him about Waverly's Honey Shop and my other accounts.”
”OK...”
<script>