Then he’d walkedaway leaving me bursting with hope and possibility. My poor cynical heart grewtwo sizes in anticipation of the next time I would see a man that only hoursago I’d tried to scare off.
I’d textedVera even though it was late.It didn’twork. He wasn’t scared off.
She’d texted backalmost immediately—Duh.
That’s when Irealized she’d tricked me. I hated her.
And loved her.
And couldn’t waitto thank her in person.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was after nineby the time I parked at Bianca Wednesday night. It had been two weeks since thespaghetti mishap. Two weeks of new-relationship bliss and constant smiles andgetting to know the most amazing man I had ever met.
Ezra had asked meto stop by to work on the mural. He’d hired a photographer to take new websitepictures, but the mural needed to be finished first.
Nervous energybuzzed through me. I hadn’t seen him since last Sunday when I’d spent the dayat Bianca painting. And we hadn’t been on a second date since we had Chinesefood at my apartment.
We did email. Wealways emailed. Sometimes they were work related, sometimes I found myselfgrinning like a fool at the computer screen and trying not to audibly sigh. Butit wasn’t just emails anymore either. We’d added talking on the phone andtexting to our constant stream of conversation.
Ezra was… amazing.And thoughtful. And funny—which was the most surprising thing of all. He hadbecome the thing I looked forward to all day long, the reason I pounced on myphone every time it made a dinging noise, the reason I constantly refreshed myemail.
He’d single-handedlysoftened my cynical defenses and turned me into one of those obnoxious girlsthat believed in relationships.
It was wonderful.
And terrifying.
I was enjoyingevery second of getting to know Ezra, but I also couldn’t shake the paranoidfeeling that eventually the other shoe was going to drop. All good things cameto an end at some point. And Ezra was too good to be an exception.
Also, the more I gotto know him, the more the differences between us were highlighted…andunderlined. He was a savvy businessman with an empire to run. He didn’t havefree time or hobbies or shows that he’d dedicated entire weeks to binging. Hespent every hour of his day working on his restaurants until eventually hisbody gave out and he was forced to sleep. He had confessed that he set aside anhour in the very early morning to work out, but that was it. Every other minutewas dedicated to work.
From meetings tomenus, to all the logistical pieces that went into running three restaurantsand working around Elena at Quince, the man was busy. But he also loved what hedid. No matter what I’d thought of him before, he was not motivated by money.His drive for success was fueled by his total and complete devotion to hiscraft.
His restaurantsmeant more to him than establishments that made money or successful restaurantsshaping American food as a whole. These were his babies, pieces of his soulthat felt pain and victory and worry along with him. As he revealed hisstruggles with Bianca while she didn’t have a chef, he shared his fears thatshe would fail or that he couldn’t be enough for her to succeed. He shared hisvery real anxiety over finding the perfect executive chef to champion her goingforward.
But at the sametime, even while so much of him was wrapped up in his restaurants, there wasmore to know, to learn… to fall for. He was like a never ending well of onlygood things.
And that’s how Iknew we would never last. He was reshaping every idea I’d ever had of men. Hewas showing me that they could be invested in one female, that they could workhard all day long and still be patient, interested and attentive even when theywere exhausted.
He showed me whatit was like to live with passion and build your life into a work of art. Notjust pieces or parts, but every single day without giving up, without becomingcomplacent. Because it wasn’t just about trying every once inawhile, or not hating what you do. This was about going allin, throwing caution completely to the wind and betting all you had on turningyour profession into a lasting tapestry of deeds well done.
Ezra didn’t live tobe happy. He strove to be satisfied and proud of what he accomplished. Hedidn’t just tick tasks off his to do list, he mastered and conquered andhandled it. Handled everything.
He taught me tohope for more than happy. Happiness was fleeting and fickle. I could be happywatching Netflix for fifteen hours straight. I could be happy at STS if theLittle Tucker would leave me alone.
But at the end ofmy life would I be satisfied with those things? Or would I realize I had misseda giant chunk of my purpose?
I had no idea to behonest, but Ezra had inspired me to start thinking about it seriously.
Most of all, ourconversations and deep talks highlighted how very different we were. Where hewas ambitious and focused, I was questioning my life choices. Where he wassavvy in business, I struggled to remember to pay my electric bill on time.Where he was cool, unruffled by anything life threw at him and alwaysconsiderate, I was weird and spastic. And selfish.
He was alwaysprofessional.
I was alwaysputting out fires I’d accidentally started.
He was obnoxiouslypunctual.
