Page 12 of Lost Love Found

I chuckle, some of my nerves immediately dissipating. “Well, eager beaver, you’re a few minutes early. I was pouring myself a drink, and I had left my phone in the other room. Apparently, I need to step up my cardio.” I worried about how we’d start this conversation, worried we’d fall into a pit of small talk and never come back out. I would rather French kiss a skunk than make small talk. Small talk is the distraction while we wait for the real conversation to begin. I crave the time when the masks fall away and the awkwardness evaporates. Thankfully, Adam snaps me out of my internal ramble.

“Did you want me to call you back when you’re ready? What are you drinking, anyway?” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I wish I could see it. I like how he does this thing where he asks two questions back-to-back, like he just can’t wait to get the words out. It’s kind of endearing, like a puppy who paws at your leg when it wants attention. I feel like I can almost see his lips moving, and I feel the urgency behind his words.

“No, smartass and a Coke. I’m treating myself tonight since I feel like I’ve had nothing but water for days. What are you up to in your neck of the woods?” I’ve made it back to the kitchen, finished pouring my drink and am making my way to the couch with Frankie.

“You want the honest answer?” he asks with a tone so earnest I want to squeeze him.

“Always!” I respond quickly because it’s true. I always want honesty.

“I’ve pretty much been waiting to call you all day. It’s New Year’s Day. I didn’t exactly have plans. I wasn’t hungover from my half a drink last night, and I nearly texted you about five times to see if I could call you earlier.”

Is this guy for real? Who says this shit? He really just openly admitted to feeling the same way I was feeling all day. I laugh, slightly relieved at this revelation.

“For future reference, you can always ask if we can talk earlier. Better yet, just call. OK?” This is exactly what I would say to any of my friends.

“Good to know. The same goes for you, L.” The weird nerves I was feeling slowly dissipate and it seems like maybe this could actually be a friendly conversation. I can be friends with a dude. I can totally do this.

“OK, Adam, so tell me: what did you end up doing all day? Because I walked Frankie twice, baked a batch of chocolate chip muffins, prepped some meals for the week and started reading a book. Oh, and then I made and ate dinner. My phone avoidance technique was to be my most productive self.” I did just about everything I could today and did it all without my phone on me to avoid the temptation of staring at it.

A disbelieving laugh bumbles out of him. “Damn, Lainey! You’re making me look bad.” The sound of my name on his lips, in that tone. It’s so familiar. I get what feels a lot like butterflies in my stomach. Get the fuck out, butterflies! “I worked out and then sat around and snacked most of the day. I ordered eggplant parmigiana for dinner and then stared at my phone for like 30 minutes before I called you.”

“OK, snack monster. Next time please just call me. Where did you get the parm from? And yes, there are potential wrong answers to this question. Friendship on the line here because I take my Italian food very seriously, even if my Greek mother would disown me if she knew I like lasagna better than pastitsio.” Either this man needs an education in Italian food or he knows what’s up. There’s no in-between.

“Bella’s on Melrose,” he answers slowly, confidently. Then, not even waiting for my reaction, he keeps talking. “What book did you read?”I ignore that my reaction is to be a little turned on by the fact that he didn’t just get close, he said the name of my favourite Italian place.

“OK wow. Yes, right answer. I hope you’ve tried the pasta Fagioli and the ricotta ravioli. Oh, my god. Deadly. And the book… it’s… uh… it’s a romance novel Char recommended.” I start speaking faster now, feeling like I need to justify my book choice. “I haven’t read anything that wasn’t for work in a long time, so she recommended this as a… fun… read.”

“Pretty sure I’ve had everything on that menu. Italian food is my weakness and that ravioli…” He lets out a moan that sends another funny feeling to my stomach. “OK, so the book. How is it so far?” I hear the mischief and curiosity in his voice, and I refuse to ignore it.

I giggle at his cheeky tone. “Shut up. It’s fine. I’m only a few chapters in and so far all I know is that the boy and the girl grew up together and he’s always had a crush on her. I’ve never read a romance novel before, so I’m not sure what to expect, but I’m pretty sure they’ll end up together. That’s sort of the point, right?”

“I think so. I’m gonna ask you more about this next time we talk.”

Next time we talk. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I try to contain my excitement. The idea makes me light-headed, a feeling I'm not used to. It's as if Adam and I have known each other for ages and not just since yesterday. For the first time in a long time, I feel a connection—a connection that's more than just physical. As if we could be just friends, nothing more.

I’m thankful when the rest of our conversation is light. We keep it simple: favorite sports teams (mine are all Massachusetts or New York-based, of course, and his are all LA), birthdays (his is December 29th, which I feel guilty about because I met him just two days after his birthday, unknowingly), siblings (we each just have the one), then we talk about traveling and things we like to do. It turns out he’s a big reader, so he gave me lots of non-romance novel recommendations, which I’m thankful for. And I’m obsessed with architecture, so I recommended places for him to check out in New York since he’s flying there tomorrow.

His voice was a deep rumble, like warm honey pouring through a funnel into my ear. My cheeks were sore from smiling by the time I said goodbye sometime around midnight. He had an early flight, but we promised to talk again soon.

I don’t know what this is, and after just a little over 24 hours of meeting this man I have never seen, I feel things I’m not sure I’ve felt with anyone before and I don’t know what to make of it all. I need to talk to Maeve. Or my therapist. Or both.

Even after four hours, I still want to know more about him. When my phone buzzes with a message from him, my heart swells with happiness and my lips involuntarily stretch into a wide, goofy grin.

ADAM

I forgot to ask you something.

Sounds mysterious. What is it?

Why does Maeve call you Bonnie?

This makes me laugh. I wonder why he’s even thinking about this.

Google it, you dork. It’s a Scottish thing.

A couple of minutes go by and I finish brushing my teeth when my phone buzzes again.

ADAM

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