Boyfriend by the Book: A feel good romantic comedy Read online

  “Justin looks good in anything,” Monique conceded. “But he’ll look even better in the tuxedo I’m picking out for our wedding.”

  “I wish Keith would phone,” Stephanie lamented. “He said there was still a chance he might get off work in time to join us. I hate going to a party alone.” She made a pouty face as she tucked her phone back in her bag.

  My friends had stuck to their promise of not bringing a date for me tonight. My anger over Brock had been enough to convince them I would rebel against this idea, apparently. Most of the guests were couples, either married ones or engaged, like Justin and Monique, so I was among the handful of single people present, most of them younger than me and hitting the bar instead of sitting in groups at tables. Instead of feeling relieved, about this, I actually felt a little bit uncomfortable for the first time in a long time. That's what fake dating does to you, I decided. It makes you think you're lonely when you're not.

  “Sorry we’re late, traffic was murder.” Kristen had arrived at last, her boyfriend Josh in tow behind her. They pulled out chairs at the table next to ours, their seating hostess giving them each a menu.

  Josh flipped open his with an air of bemusement, his business suit out of place in the pub’s casual atmosphere. Catching my eye, he smiled and asked, “Having fun, Jodi?”

  “I’ve had worse times,” I told him. Grinning as Monique rolled her eyes beside me.

  “Here alone?”

  I nodded, feeling a slight pang. Why did everyone seem fixated on that issue lately? I didn’t judge other people for being single, but everyone I knew seemed to think it was a curse. Even Josh seemed to offer me a pitying look before he turned back to his menu.

  “So, what are the potential honeymoon spots?” Kristen wondered. “Cancun? The Virgin Islands? I’m guessing the options are pretty much limitless since you both work for the airline.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Monique. “I just can’t decide if I want Paris or somewhere on the beach. Whatever we don’t pick this time we can always do for an anniversary trip.”

  “I’m definitely going somewhere tropical for mine,” said Kristen. “Hawaii, or maybe Barbados. I saw a travel show on that one last week. It’s gorgeous there.”

  Her boyfriend chuckled. “We haven’t even picked out a ring, and you’re already planning the honeymoon?”

  “You know I’m an expert multi-tasker,” she replied, teasing him. “Besides, we’re getting the ring next month. You promised, remember?”

  Kristen and Josh were getting engaged? I felt my eyes widen. They had talked about it before, of course, but always in a far-off sense. Buying a ring made it official. I joined the others in congratulating them, my head spinning with the news.

  I lifted my glass, only to find it was empty. Pushing back my chair, I told them, “Guess I need a refill.” They smiled and went back to talking. I made my way quickly from the private dining room to the main part of the restaurant rather than flag down one of the too-busy waiters at the engagement party.

  The atmosphere was just as lively in the main bar, but I felt more relaxed being away from the party. I paused beside a wall of tapestries, taking a breath as I surveyed the room. A group of five was sitting at the nearby table. Men and women close to my own age, laughing and talking over their plates of steaming food. Part of me felt envious, seeing their carefree attitude.

  Tonight had been more awkward then fun so far. I was feeling left out among the happy couples, and the talk of wedding plans was making it even worse. Was it possible I was jealous? Wishing I was the one sporting a diamond band and planning a ceremony instead of sitting alone in a roomful of couples?

  Maybe this was why my friends were so intent on finding someone for me. They didn’t want me to be alone once they were married and starting their own families. I would be the odd woman out, the only one who didn’t have a special someone to come home to at the end of the day.

  Completely absorbed in these thoughts, I joined the line for the bar at the same time as another customer—and ran smack into a tall, solid form. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I began. The rest of my apology lost at the sight of a familiar pair of eyes looking back at me.

  It was Levi. Only his deliveryman uniform had been exchanged for a pair of dark wash jeans, a plain t-shirt beneath his open jacket. His golden, spiky hair was a little bit mussed, and he smelled of something woody and fresh. I had never been this close to him, my hand resting against his chest before I took a step back. I had practically walked into his arms, not paying attention to my surroundings. What a klutz I must look like. For a moment, I felt embarrassed, my cheeks flushing deep scarlet.

  “Jodi,” he said. “Hey. How are you?”

  “I’m good,” I told him. “Really good. Sorry I ran into you like that. I was sort of lost in thought.” Thank heavens I didn't have a full glass in my hand at the time, I thought.

  “No problem,” he assured me. “I’m as much to blame as you. Guess we were both distracted.”

  “Guess so.”

  My breath was a little shallow, my heart thumping strangely at the sight of him. What was that about? I saw him every week—there was no need to be nervous, but something seemed different since there was no desk between us now. I covered my confusion with a laugh. “I almost didn’t recognize you out of uniform,” I quipped.

  “Same here. You look great,” he added, with a nod to my jeans and lace tee, my hair loose around my shoulders instead of pulled back in a ponytail like it was at work.

  Of course he'd never seen me outside the hotel, where I was always in a perfectly-pressed uniform and name tag. I blushed again for this fact. “Thanks,” I said. “So do you. Look good in your casual clothes, I mean.”

  I was starting to ramble now. Wishing my face weren’t so warm, I told him, “It’s really crowded in here. Stuffy.”

  “Yeah, it is. Friday’s their most popular night. Lots of people looking to unwind from the stress of the work week, I guess.”

  That made sense—though I couldn’t imagine Levi being here for that reason. He always seemed so cheerful and energetic delivering packages at the hotel. Then again, I probably seemed that way about my job too, even when I was being rushed off my feet. Which was most of the time at a place like the Regent.

  “Were you going to order something?” Levi asked. We had gotten in line at the same time and were the next to be waited on, now that the customers ahead of us were claiming their orders.

  “A root beer,” I said, remembering the reason I had come this way in the first place. He nodded, shifting his weight to the side, so he was slightly behind me now. His subtle way of signaling I should go first. The chivalrous gesture made me smile. He was such a gentleman.

  The bartender took my order, pointing to Levi next. “Two of your house ciders, one with cinnamon.”

  Two ciders. Was he ordering for a date as well? The idea shouldn’t surprise me, but I felt a wave of disappointment at the thought. I hoped it didn’t show on my face. After all, why should it be a problem that Levi was seeing someone? It wasn't as if he was interested in me ... or asked me out ... even if I had half-imagined he was interested in me.

  “How’s the Bryon coming?” Levi asked. “Still honing those creative instincts?”

  “Uh, no,” I said. A little too adamantly, judging from the way his brows went up. I laughed, explaining, “That project was attracting some unwanted attention. In fact, it almost got me stalked by this weird poetry fan.”

  “Are you serious?”

  All traces of mirth had vanished from his face with the words. Apparently, my expression proved I wasn't entirely kidding about this, so maybe that's why he stepped a little closer to me, a gesture that seemed almost protective. It took me a few seconds to think of a reply afterwards. “Not really," I assured him, although my voice was flustered. "There was a misunderstanding with someone I had lunch with. But that’s cleared up now. It's fine.”

  “Good,” he said, evidently relaxing a little — or was I just
imagining it? He didn’t press for details, thank goodness. I wasn’t eager for anyone else to know the results of my so-called ‘heroine experiment’. It had been bad enough feeling the stares of curious co-workers after Brock’s visit to the Regent. I didn’t want Levi to have the same look on his face when he learned how stupid I had been to actually attempt any of that rubbish.

  Jane Eyre had been disappointment enough. You would think I would have learned a lesson before Catherine Earnshaw, right?

  The bartender slid my root beer across the counter. I took a sip from it, hearing the fizz of the soda. Levi stood by, waiting for his order. I should be going back to the engagement party, I knew, but I lingered here anyway.

  “So,” I began, attempting to sound casual, “are you here with someone?”

  He nodded. “Some friends. We have a project together this weekend, so we’re just trading ideas before we get started.”

  He gestured towards the carefree group I had noticed earlier. Two of them were obviously a couple, the woman leaning her head on the man’s shoulder as they looked at something on his phone. Another guy sat beside them, dark brown hair sticking from beneath his knitted cap. The guy next to him seemed a little older, but with features so similar I wondered if they could be related.

  An attractive strawberry blond sat on the opposite side of the table from them, the chair beside her empty. Soft curls fell around her face as she glanced in our direction, favoring Levi with a playful smile. I saw him smile back and felt a dip in my stomach.

  There was Levi's date. If not now, then definitely in the future. I felt certain that it was no coincidence that she glanced at him just now, while I was standing here, too.

  “They look nice,” I said.

  “They are,” he agreed. “We’re pretty good friends. Lots in common, so I guess that’s why.” He gave me a curious look. “What about you? Are you meeting someone?” He glanced around, as if searching for my dinner mates.

  I glanced towards the banquet room. “My friend Monique’s engagement party is being held in there," I said. "We’re the party of forty or so making all the noise.”

  “Sounds like you’re having fun,” he answered. I merely nodded in reply, afraid my tone would give away the fact I wasn’t having that good of a time. I would come off like the world’s worst friend if I told him why, so I tried to summon an enthusiastic smile.

  “The wedding is this summer,” I told him. “And my friend Kristen is getting engaged now. She just announced it a few minutes ago.”

  “Must be the season for it,” Levi said. “I have a couple of weddings to go to as well. I’ve been recruited as a groomsman for one of them,” he added, making a slight face for the thought of it.

  “At least you get to wear a suit probably. Bridesmaids never know what they’ll be forced to parade around in. I’ve seen some combinations of satin and tulle that would give you nightmares,” I added, thinking of a cousin’s wedding that involved purple nylon with matching veils for the bridesmaids. Levi laughed.

  “You’ve got a point there. I shouldn’t be complaining about renting a tuxedo.”

  Levi in a tuxedo. I imagined he would look attractive in it, maybe even more so than he did in casual clothes. And then, for some reason, Monique’s comment about groomsman in chain mail popped into my head. Levi dressed as a medieval warrior—it wasn’t completely without charm, I had to admit, before I banished it to the corner of my mind where all ridiculous thoughts should go.

  “Two house ciders, one with cinnamon,” the bartender announced, sliding two glass mugs in front of Levi.

  Levi picked them up, saying, “Guess I better deliver these. Seems I can’t escape my day job, even on a night off.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” I told him. “They should at least tip you for that kind of service.”

  “Maybe I’ll suggest that. See if I can guilt them into showing a little respect,” he said, grinning for the joke. He glanced back over his shoulder, asking, “See you next week?”

  I nodded, giving him a little goodbye wave. As I watched, he carried the mugs over to his friends. One of them went to the guy in the knitted cap, their might-be-a-brother seatmate pretending to make a grab for it, laughing at something Levi said. The other mug stayed in Levi’s hand until he took a seat next to the strawberry blond. He set it in front of her, and she smiled at whatever he said at that moment. With a laugh, she put an arm around his neck, pressing her lips against his face. A tender touch that practically screamed 'girlfriend' from where I stood.

  I nearly spilled my root beer.

  ~8~

  Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. After all, it had been a light kiss—more like a peck on the cheek, really. Only closer to the lips, maybe. Friends could exchange a friendly peck now and then, couldn’t they?

  But I wasn’t fooling myself. There was a clear connection between them, and that girl had definitely seemed like more than a friend. If they weren't dating, it was only because one of them hadn’t been willing to take it to the next level yet.

  I hadn’t stuck around to see what happened next, rushing back to the dining room where Monique’s fiancé had joined our table. Stephanie was talking on her cell phone—to Keith, no doubt, and Kristen was nowhere in sight in the crowd of chatting party guests. As I sipped my drink alone, I had the intense urge to get out of there as quickly as I could.

  “Do you feel okay, Jodi? You look really pale.” Stephanie was off the phone now, her face one of concern as she noticed mine. I shook my head.

  “I’m okay. Just kind of tired.” I smiled at her.

  I had never told any of my friends about Levi, or my little crush on him. Now I was glad about that, since it turned out he wasn’t interested anyway. This explained the change in his behavior, the way he’d suddenly been more guarded in our exchanges. He probably realized I was getting the wrong idea and wanted to gently discourage it. Levi wasn’t the type to purposely mislead someone, I felt.

  Pleading an early work schedule, I left the party by ten o’clock. I kept my gaze averted from the table where Levi and his friends had been sitting, just in case they were still there. Outside, a light rain had begun to fall—of course—dampening my spirits even more. Climbing into my car, I sat for awhile without starting the engine. I just needed to get a grip on myself, that was all. A little more time, and my disappointment over Levi was bound to fade.

  Only that didn’t seem to be happening. The next several days seemed designed to make these feelings even worse, and my growing struggle with singlehood and dating even harder. Everywhere I looked, romance was in the air. Even at work, I couldn’t escape it.

  First came the wedding reception hosted in the Regent’s ball room. It was an elegant affair, the couple’s beaming smiles like a billboard advertisement for what I was missing in life.

  I would be a bridesmaid for two of my friends in the next few months. How long before Stephanie was getting married too? Our weekly girls’ night would become a thing of the past. Their lives were moving forward and mine seemed stuck by comparison. I tried not to think about it too hard, but it kept cropping up when I least expected it. Bringing a sense of panic as I thought of being truly alone outside of my work.

  Next, a couple on their first anniversary trip checked in Wednesday afternoon. The husband had phoned ahead, arranging for rose petals to be scattered around the room, a bottle of champagne on ice for toasting the happy occasion. “I know it sounds cliché,” he told me, chuckling over the phone, “but when you’re in love, these things actually seem more romantic than silly.”

  “I’m sure they do,” I told him. An edge to my voice as I wrote down his instructions. The temptation to stomp a few of those rose petals was strong, but I managed to resist. But the final straw was still to come.

  A reservation for one at The Merlot, an exotic new restaurant eager to reach out to the Regent’s patrons. I followed the seating hostess to a table in front of a wall of cascading water. It was impressive and promine
ntly placed. I realized that other diners were looking my way, curious about the person who received this privileged spot.

  “Is there another table available?” I wondered. “Something a little more private?” Like in the corner, where no one can see my expression in the dim lighting. The seating hostess looked offended.

  “This is our very best table, Ms. Nichols. The manager insisted we reserve it especially for the Regent's representatives. He wants your experience to be the absolute best the restaurant has to offer.”

  But I'm the only representative. “Of course,” I told her. “I’m honored.” As I held up the menu like a shield, blocking the other customers from sight.

  Somehow, I worked my way through five courses of gourmet food. Everything tasted delicious, but I barely even noticed. I was too busy feigning nonchalance as the tables around me were filled with couples on dates. Sitting alone in my formal dress and wrap, I felt foolish and more than a little out of place.

  Tears started to prick my eyes. I couldn’t let myself cry in front of all these people. I quickly fought back the urge, taking a long drink of water. This just wasn’t like me, given how many times I had done this in the past. I had never minded eating alone before. So why did it feel like a punishment these days? By the time dessert came, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  Coming home, my apartment seemed dark and empty. I flipped on the hall entrance light, dropping my keys on the table by the door. Yesterday’s mail was piled there, an assortment of bills and the usual junk. I left it for later, the evening’s disappointment still weighing on me.

  Up ahead, a book was lying on the floor, knocked there by Basil in my absence. The same book my friends had given me, its cover familiar in the soft glow of light.

  I had meant to get rid of it after things with Brock. Angry, I told myself it was better to be alone forever than attract the kind of scenarios the book had led me to. Even now, part of me knew I should put it out of sight. Two disastrous results ought to be enough to discredit it.