It's Got A Ring To It (10 page)

“Ok
ay…
Now I’m
really confused. Do you mind filling me in on what you
think
it is that I’ve done to you because I’m in the dark here.”

“Yes.
Laila
, let’s get to the bottom of
this right now.”

“Go on
.
T
ell me your phone number.”
I looked him square in his eyes to let him know I meant business.

“No clue what you’re after, but if you must know, it’s 5-5-5-2-3
-7-4.”

The thinly veiled smug grin on my
face,
disappeared immediately. At first, I thought I’d heard him wrong, but it was no
mistake. Our numbers were nearly the same, except his ended with
a
four and mine with
a
nine. I was so confused. I
distinctly heard my phone number at the bridal shop. “But I heard Betty confirm
the number you gave her?”

“Betty? I don’t know a Betty.”

“Well, that may not have been her name, but I did hear you confirm
your phone number to be 5-5-5-2-3-7-9 at the bridal shop. And that’s
my
number.” As if I’d been fully
exonerated with that explanation, I pointed my finger stubbornly. “You see,
Mom.” Although, I acted more like my shoe size than my age, it was worth it for
vindication.

“See what?” Raising his hands up in frustration. “You did not hear me
confirm your phone number. If you would have eavesdropped a little longer, you
would have heard me tell the woman that the last number was a four and
not
a nine.”

 
“The fact of the matter
,
Mr. Donovan, is that you
are a crook. You have been terrorizing me for what seems like eternity and it’s
about time for it to stop. Every day, some collection company or telemarketer
is calling me asking for Mr. Myles Donovan. Asking for you. Meanwhile, you’re
out all over town at restaurants and bridal salons passing my phone number out
to random people, like it’s a winning lottery ticket. You have the
audacity—”

“It
was
you!” he
interrupted me mid-sentence. “The dress store. That was you at the counter.”

With all the stifled fury of that day in the boutique, I couldn’t
chicken out a second time. “Yes. And I lost my nerve to say anything to you
that day, when I heard the saleswomen say your name, but I knew I’d get the
chance again one day even if I had to wait a lifetime to tell you that you are
the bane of my existence.”

“You followed me there,” he stated accusingly.

“No, I was there for Lena. What are you talking about?”
I t
urn
ed
away from his knowing eyes, piercing
through me. “I overheard the saleswoman say your name.”

“Then, how’d you know my address?”

“It was on the counter,” I folded under pressure, guilty on all
counts.

“So, you admit to stalking me then, if you stole my information from
the shop?” A smug look passed across Myles’ face.
The inching
smirk, evidence of his rapidly
inflating ego.
He thought he won his case and I just wanted to
yell, “
You can’t handle the truth
,”
but I stuck to my guns and held on to my last shred of dignity.

“Let’s not get things twisted here. This is
my
phone number that you’re giving out. You can try to change
your story here to save face, but I heard you.”
Weak, but the
only effective point.

“You’re whacko. For the second time, we do not have the same number
despite the similarity. So, you want to crucify me because I have messy
handwriting. Come on! Forever, people have been mistaking my fours for nines,
because they curve a little bit, so sue me.”

We went back and forth for a little less than half an hour, until Mom
finally mediated the whole thing. Once we finally got down to the bottom of
things, I actually felt guilty. After all, it wasn’t Myles’ fault. When he
originally got the number, the phone company even mistook his numbers. Still, I
couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed because I was revved up and ready
to take out my rage on him.

By the polite gestures and remorse lingering in the air more than
anything, we both kn
e
w
an unspoken truce had been reached. Still, I apologized at every chance. And
every chance he got, he let me know that it was unnecessary, given the
circumstances. Luckily, we actually had business to discuss.
He pulled out the
photography samples and packages
and
we awkwardly discussed the wedding. It
was too late for me, though. I couldn’t help noticing the light peering through
the sheer curtains flickering in his eyes. How could I concentrate on
engagement photos and poses, when I was more interested in him than his
work.
Being mad at him was…easier.
Easier
than memorizing the curves of his cheekbone and the swaying in the waves of his
lush mane.
Professional, but casual in straight-leg dark jeans, a blue
and white
pin-striped
button-down collared shirt and
navy blazer, Myles was distinguished and sexy. He must’ve felt the weight of my
eyes on him because the corners of his mouth turned up and then we were locked
in another gaze.
The same gaze that we shared in the bridal
salon, and my dream.
The surrealism of sitting this close to him made me
want to pinch myself to wake up.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes. No. Wait, I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“Are you sure the formal shots are all you want?” He hesitated. “From
just the brief meeting, your family seems to be full of color and passion, to
say the least. You don’t strike me as the type to be so cut and dry…
i
f you don’t mind my saying
so.”

“Oh, no. You’re right. We’re a tad traditional, but the
photojournalistic candid shots and a mix of the formals will be best. You
haven’t met Lena yet. Let me just tell you,
i
f you got that from just the two of us,
you’re in for a big surprise. I’m tame compared to Lena.”

“Sure she’s just as great as you are.” I knew it was meant for Lena,
but I indulged in the flattery nonetheless.

Another apology rose in my throat, and before I could do anything to
stop it, “Myles. Really, I’m so
—
”
but he wouldn’t let another one slide.

“Don’t even try it. Listen, maybe we started off on the wrong foot.
What do you say, we go outside for a walk to let the air clear and we’ll start
over.”

My head hung low, embarrassed
, I acquiesced
to the stroll.
I rose
to head
for the door,
but
he stood up like a flash and rushed ahead. “Myles?” Mom and I
exchanged a baffled look and shrugged it off. The security alarm chimed.
“Myles?” I called out.

I reached the foyer just as the front door closed. Suddenly, the
doorbell rang. Confused, I just st
oo
d there wondering if I should answer it or
not. Through the peephole, a distorted caricature-like image of Myles waiting
almost impatiently made me laugh. His oversized nose and eyes looked back at
me. “Myles, what are you doing? You’ve already been welcomed into the house.”

Loud and muffled, he pleaded, “Just answer it, as if I hadn’t been
here already.”

What the heck? Playing along, I sang, “Who is it?”

“Myles Donovan.”

“Myles Donovan, who?
We don’t open the door for solicitors,” I joked. His laughter crept
through the crack in the door.

“The wedding photographer for Lena.”

When I opened the door, Myles introduced himself, sincerely as if it
were the first time we’d met.

“Nice to meet you
,
Myles
.
I’m
Laila
Smart, sister of the bride and maid of honor.”
Extending my hand to his already outstretched toward me, the warmth traveled
through my body.
Quickly, I released
his firm grip
and
welcomed
him inside.

“Mrs. Smart
—
”
he started, but corrected himself disapprovingly, with the shaking of my head.
“Ms. Smart,” he began again, seeking approval. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Then, getting back to our plan, “Care to accompany me on a late afternoon
stroll?”

“Mr. Donovan, I would be delighted.”

Even with our mock reintroduction, awkwardness and forced cordiality
hovered around us. But, I didn’t mind the silence. Inside, a new me was awak
en
ing, more
aware of my surroundings than ever before. My senses were renewed. The vibrant
oranges and solemn blues of the sun
setting,
painted
picturesque vistas across the mountains in the distance, like the world was a
canvas. Gentle breezes whispered lullabies and blew the sweet perfume of summer
blossoms through the warm air. As the streetlights came on and
the ebbing sounds of children playing were drowned out by cars
pulling into driveways
, I knew it was what I wanted.

For so long, wanting anything tangible was taboo. The last time I’d
let myself truly yearn for something was when I planned on happily ever after
with Ethan. But, I’d found out that the aching in my soul for happily ever
after was not contingent upon Ethan. I still wanted the home and the kids. The
daily routines and family vacations that I had growing up. Sure, I wasn’t crazy
about minivans, but I would take it if it meant having all the rest.

Walking in tandem with Myles only confirmed it. I wanted the long
walks, holding hands with my husband where no words were required because the
most important words had already been spoken. Thinking back to that day at the
bridal shop, I remembered how I felt when he turned and looked at me. I felt
like the only person in the room that mattered to him, even though I knew he
was there with his fiancé
e
.
She must’ve been the same woman Mom saw at the post office. Flawless and every
bit his
perfect match
.

I wanted that
—
the
promise to love and be loved. There on the street he was mine, if only for
those few stolen moments. We were just enjoying each other’s company and
feeling blessed to be with one another. Images of family movie nights with
fresh buttery popcorn and warm blankets, or me sitting on a chaise lounge with
our daughter, warm, reading good books came to mind. Myles would be watching
the game across the room with our son, bonding in father-son time. Or, I could
be with our son and he with our daughter. I noticed him staring and instantly I
got nervous that I might’ve said all of that aloud.

“This is nice,” he said as if he’
d
been listening to my thoughts.

“It is,” I safely agreed. “I love this time of year, before it gets
too hot.”

“Me
,
too.” He
looked over at me and smiled. “Want to let me in on it?”

“In on what?”

“Whatever you’re over there thinking about
—
smiling about.”

“Was I smiling?” I asked, embarrassed. I hadn’t realized that I’d let
the way I was feeling, show on the outside. Looking down at my jeans, I dusted
off a piece of lint, stalling. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“This. All of this!”
W
inding
my hands in a circle between us.

“What about this?” His face softened and my insides melted.

“Everything really. Walking. The air.
The color of
the sky.
The warmth. It’s all so…romantic.” He looked at me, and I tried
to recover, hoping I hadn’t overstepped my boundary
.
“
N
ot you, just everything around us. I mean, I
hope to do this with someone one day.” Hurt colored his face and I could feel him
withdrawing. Hardening. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying. You’re great,
really
.
”
T
he look remained and there
went my foot-in-mouth disease flaring up. “I should just shut up.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” He wouldn’t even look at me.

Stopping, I turned him toward me. “Please, Myles. Don’t look like
that.”

“Look like what?”
H
e
blankly stared through me, but fire blazed in his eyes.

“Like you hate me.” Still holding his arms, I peered up at him.
“Myles. I’m at a loss here. First, I hated you because of the phone calls, then
I saw you at the bridal salon and you were, well, you. Standing there, gorgeous
and perfect with your leather jacket and those jeans that fit, in all the right
places
.
”

H
e smiled.

“I still wanted to hate you there, but I didn’t expect you.
Not, that
I should have been looking at you in the first
place. A bridal salon is not really the place to meet a guy, considering he’s
kind of already got wedding plans with someone else.”

“But,
Laila
—
”

“Just let me finish
.
”
I
plac
ed
my hand gently over his
mouth as he resigned to let me. “Then, you show up in my dream. I’ve had this
dream a million times and suddenly there you are. Next thing I know, my
mother’s trying to fix me up with some creepy photographer she met at the post office
and then it turns out you’re the photographer.” Out of breath, I was relieved
to get it off my chest. “Phew. I’m sorry. I know you’re engaged and I don’t
have the right to be feeling this way or telling you all this, but I just had
to let it out. You just keep popping up everywhere.”