Love Love (12 page)

“
I see. So I have to trust
that should the need arise, these so-called powers will make
themselves known.”

“
Absolutely.”

I choke back a laugh. “Okay, in that
case, let’s walk through the seedy part of the city. I’m anxious to
see you in action.”

“
Never mock a superhero,
Gabby. It detracts from our ability to perform.” Brad is silent for
a moment, and then, “So...how did everything go?”

“
It was…nice.”

“
That’s it? Just nice? That
doesn’t sound too promising.”

“
Actually, it was
very
promising.”

Brad seems like he wants to say
something else, but hesitates. He runs his hand through his shaggy
brown hair instead. We walk together quietly until we pass Liana’s
Ice Cream Shop and I look longingly through the window.

“
You’re looking at that
shop like you just found your lost puppy. Want to get some ice
cream?”

“
I’d love to, but I think
I’m a bit overdressed.”

“
Nah. You look perfect. A
bit distracting, but perfect,” he says with a wink.

I love Liana’s homemade ice cream.
Smooth. Creamy. Yum. We had a shop like this back in California and
I pretty much got a frequent flyer card there. In my book, the only
thing that beats ice cream is warm chocolate lava cake with whipped
cream on the side.

Brad grabs a table while I decide on
two scoops of my favorite, Double Chocolate Brownie; he orders
Monkey Ripple. We take a taste of each other’s ice cream. I see him
eying mine.

He tilts his head to one side. “I want
yours instead. It tastes better.”

I move my cup away from him, scraping
it across the table. “No way. You had a taste already, and I’m not
willing to share any more. Besides, Monkey Ripple suits
you.”

“
What’s that supposed to
mean? Are you comparing me to a monkey?”

“
What’s wrong with that?
Monkeys are cute.”

Brad leans back with his hands behind
his head. “So, you think I’m cute.”

Time for a subject change. “So...how
long have you worked at the coffee shop?"

He moves closer to the table, and to
me. "Actually…I own it.”

“
You do?” I’m not sure why
that surprises me, but it does. “Wow. That explains why nobody ever
minds when you sit at my table. How long have you owned
it?”

“
About four years
now.”

“
Wait! I thought it was a
new shop?” How did I not know that? I must live under a
rock.

“
No, we’ve just had a
sudden rise in popularity. A friend of the family, Steve Cooper
owned the shop, and I worked for him part-time during college. He
decided he wanted to sell it around the time I graduated, and my
brother Matt actually convinced me to buy it and loaned me some
money so I could. It’s kind of a funny story actually. When we were
growing up, I used to always experiment making different drink
concoctions…hot chocolate, teas, cappuccinos, whatever struck me. I
really enjoyed it, and while it wasn’t something I planned, I kind
of fell into it.”

“
Well, you definitely seem
happy doing it.”

“
Yeah, I love it,
actually.” I see a twinkle in his eyes as they reach up to meet
mine. “I get to meet some really cool people.”

My face warms, so I eat some more ice
cream to cool off.

“
Who designed it?” I ask
curiously.

“
Again, I have Matt to
thank for that. He had someone in his firm come out and help. I’m
really happy with the way it turned out.”

“
Yeah, that was the first
thing I noticed. It’s a little funky, but has a really homey feel.
It’s very inviting.”

Brad rests his elbows on the table.
"So…what about you? Where did you go to school?'

“
I went to UC Berkeley for
interior design.”

“
So you’re exactly where
you want to be then?”

I’m not so sure about that. “The job
at Landon & Castell is great. It’s a really good place to learn
and grow and I’m hoping to move up at some point.”

“
What made you decide to
move to New York?” His brown eyes exude interest.

I anxiously twirl my spoon around the
cup of ice cream and start making soup. “It was just time, that’s
all. I was anxious to be on my own. I love California, but New York
is fun. It’s a lot more fast-paced than northern California.” I
chuckle. “A lot more people in a hurry here.”

Brad swirls some ice cream around in
his mouth. “I’ve been to California several times, but only to
visit Matt in Los Angeles. It’s really busy there, too. It reminds
me of New York a lot, with the exception of the six lane highways,
which are insane.”

“
You planning on drinking
that?” he teases, looking longingly at my dish which is now filled
with brown liquid.

“
Yeah. I’m gonna ask for a
straw.” I giggle and then push my bowl to him. He seems to want to
finish it.

We make our way out of the shop and
down a couple of blocks when I realize my high heels are starting
to take a toll.

Brad sees me wince a couple of times.
“Shall I carry you the rest of the way? We superheroes are
incredibly strong.”

I laugh out loud. He really is
adorable. And funny. “Actually, the subway will be just
fine.”

Brad walks with me until we get to the
entrance stairs, then grabs my arm. “I was wondering if I could
have your cell phone number? You know, just to make sure you get
home safely.”

He wants my phone number. Interesting.
I hesitate for a second, but give it to him. I don’t think he’s a
serial killer or anything. At least I hope not. There’s really
nowhere to hide any body parts in my apartment anyway. He pulls his
cell phone out of his pocket and programs my number.

“
Thanks for protecting me
against any impending villains.”

The right side of his mouth turns up.
“Don’t mention it, Lois.”

I shake my head and giggle. He’s so
kooky.

Walking into the apartment, I’m
greeted by a cozy Fran and Kyle on the sofa. She’s sitting on his
lap straddling him, his hand is up her shirt, and their lips are
locked. “Oh…sorry.”

Fran looks a bit surprised that I’m
not in between 24k gold thread Egyptian cotton sheets right about
now. “Hey! Why the hell are you home so early? You’re supposed to
be in the throes of passion.”

Glaring at her so she’ll shut her big
mouth, she finally gets the message, pulls herself off of Kyle, and
walks over to the kitchen counter.

“
What happened? Did you
chicken out?” she whispers, even though Kyle’s out of
earshot.

I can’t tell her the real reason right
now. I don’t need her laying into me again. “Kind of.”

“
Gabrielle Christina
Willis. What am I going to do with you?”

“
I don’t know. I might
possibly need a few more of your sex education classes before I’m
ready.”

“
Oh dear Lord. You need a
lot more than that at this point.”

Kyle interrupts, striding from the
living room. “Hey Gabby, do you want to watch a movie with us?” He
shows me a DVD case. “We’re going to watch Mad Max…and,” he dangles
the red bag of licorice in the air, “we’ve got
Twizzlers.”

I look back over at Fran and quietly
mouth, “Mad Max?”

She bobs her shoulders up and down,
but smiles.

I rub my eyes. “I think I’m just going
to go to bed, but thanks, Kyle.”

“
You okay?” Fran asks,
concerned.

My attention goes back to Fran.
“Yeah,” I mutter, with the little conviction I feel.

“
Goodnight,
Kyle.”

“
Later, Gabby.”

Fran stares at me with irritated eyes
and shakes her head. I know she wants to say something, but
thankfully she doesn’t. Instead, she walks over and hugs me
tightly. “Goodnight, sweetie. I love you.”

“
I love you too,
Fran.”

Throwing on my t-shirt and sweats, I
hop into bed. I’m about to get under the blankets when my phone
buzzes with an unfamiliar number. Who’s calling me this time of
night? Quietly, I answer, “hello?”

“
You home?”

“
Who is this?”

“
Gabby, it’s
Brad.”

I smile. Of course it is. “Oh sorry, I
didn’t recognize the number.”

“
That’s okay. So you’re
home?”

“
Yes.”

“
Okay, well goodnight,
then.”

“
Goodnight. Hey,
Brad?”

“
Thanks for checking on
me.”

“
Sure.”

“
Goodnight.”

When I finally close my eyes, I
squeeze them shut and concentrate really hard, still trying to
imagine Clark’s arms around me, needing them around me…I’d give
anything, absolutely anything, to feel that again.

***

Mondays suck. Why can’t we have three day weekends? It’s so
hard to get motivated when you’ve had barely two days to relax.
Dane left me a voicemail message that he wants to make good on that
rain check. He wants me to come to the W tonight and have dinner
with him in his hotel room. This time, I’m not backing down. I can
do this. I want to do this.

On the way to The Brew House, my mind
wanders to last night and Brad. I find myself laughing out loud,
which elicits some stares. I guess Brad isn’t the only odd one.
There’s something about him, though…I can’t quite put my finger on
it. He’s very sweet, and endearing…and funny. He always seems so
relaxed and comfortable in his own skin. I have to admit that I
look forward to seeing him every morning.

The lines moves blissfully fast at the
shop this morning. I reach the register and my lips form a
smile.

Brad returns it. “Morning, Gabby.
Salted Caramel Mocha?”

“
Yes, please.” Making my
way over to a table, I plop down and pull out my cell phone to call
Dane. Just as my fingers begin to dial, I hear giggling and glance
over in the direction of the splendid sound. A young couple is in a
heated embrace. Dreamy eyes, roaming hands, endless laughter. Clark
and I used to be that way; happy. He scooped out pieces of my heart
and held them tightly, brought life to them, mixed them up and made
me crazy with love...for him.

I remember every detail about Clark.
Those cobalt blue eyes that I could gaze into for hours on end,
that silky brown hair that I loved to run my fingers through, those
sculptured cheekbones, and that sweet mouth that held such hot
kisses. Kisses that made me feel so much; until they didn't
anymore. “I miss you, Clark.” The words fall from my lips before I
even realize I've said them. The tears slip from my heart and slide
down my cheeks.

Brad stands over me with a box of
Kleenex. "Are you okay, Gabby?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just having a
moment." A Clark moment.

He looks down at the floor, and then
meets my eyes. "If you need to talk or anything…"

A quiet sincerity fills his soft brown
eyes. They’re actually quite lovely.

"Thanks, Brad. Just having one of
those days, you know?"

He places his hand over his heart, and
I see an understanding glimmer in his eyes. "Yeah, I do
know."

I watch as his hand makes a move
toward mine, but instantly I retreat, shoving my hand under the
table.