Chapter Two
"He asked where you were?" Mel snapped, her voice rising in indignation.
It was Saturday morning, 8:30 a.m., and we were standing in line at my favorite bakery, waiting to place our order. The family-run spot was my go-to for a pick-me-up, and I'd texted Mel early that morning to see if she wanted to meet me there.
Optimistically, she'd hoped I would have good news—maybe even a few juicy details to share about the night before. Instead, I had to admit that I'd been stood up.
"That little f—" She eyed the crowd around us, noticing a family nearby, and lowered her voice. "Twit," she corrected herself. "Where was he? Did he forget he promised you a real date last night? I could kill him. What did you say?"
I smiled weakly as we moved up in line. I'd been eyeing the display case, trying to decide what I wanted. My gaze landed on a decadent chocolate cake, and for a second, I wondered if it was socially acceptable to buy an entire cake to eat on a bench this early in the morning. Instead, I opted for an almond croissant and Earl Grey tea.
"I haven't replied yet," I told her honestly.
After my shower last night, I'd crawled into bed and tried to fall asleep. I ended up tossing and turning most of the night, evidenced by the dark circles currently hiding under my mirrored sunglasses. When I woke up this morning, I had over a dozen notifications and missed calls from Theo, but I wasn't ready to talk to him. Not yet.
He could wait.
Breakfast in hand, we headed towards the waterfront, past Canada Place and the two massive cruise ships currently docked. We wandered down the Vancouver waterfront, passing tourists taking selfies and cyclists dodging them, until we found an empty bench to sit on. I pulled my almond croissant out of the brown paper bag and took a bite. Flaky pastry, sweet almond paste, and a dusting of powdered sugar melted in my mouth.
Mel sat patiently beside me, munching on her blueberry scone as we watched the Harbour Air seaplanes swoop in and out.
"I just hoped…" I trailed off as Mel caught my eye. No doubt she guessed exactly what I was thinking, but she didn't jump in. She let me finish.
"I thought maybe he was, well, you know… my person?"
I winced a little as the words came out. As cheesy as they sounded, it was true.
At twenty-nine years old, I'd never had the best luck when it came to romantic relationships. I'd struggled a lot with my body image and had all but convinced myself that I wasn't the type of girl anyone would want long-term. For years, I felt like I was too big and unworthy of romantic love. While I'd gotten better at accepting my curves and learning to love them, it wasn't always easy. Especially when it came to dating.
So when Theo came along, I was blindsided. He was six years older than me and built like a Greek god. He worked out daily and had the body to show for it. I was confused as to why, in a city full of toned and athletic women, he had approached me.
But he did.
We met on the street. It was December, and all the Christmas lights were up. I had pulled out my phone to snap a cheesy selfie in front of the lights to send to Mel. I was a self-proclaimed Christmas elf, while she veered more towards the Grinch. As I held the camera up to my face, a well-dressed, golden-haired stranger approached, asking if he could take the photo for me.
Embarrassed, I shoved my phone in my pocket and politely declined, explaining it was just a joke and that I loved Christmas while my best friend didn't.
"What kind of monster doesn't like Christmas?" he had asked, a big smile on his face.
I laughed, and we got to talking right there on the street. After a few minutes, he nodded to a coffee shop across the way and asked if I wanted to warm up and get a drink. I hesitated, feeling awkward about accepting an invite from someone I had literally just met, but I was cold and had been planning on getting a hot drink anyway. So, I said yes.
Over the next hour, I learned that his name was Theo and he was a chef. He had only been in Vancouver for a couple of years but was planning on staying. He had recently opened a restaurant with a friend, and although his schedule was chaotic, he loved it. In turn, I told him a little about myself—that I was born and raised in the city and worked in graphic design.
He asked for my number, telling me he was interested in talking to someone about some design work for the restaurant, but it turned out to be just an excuse to get my contact information. We never talked about work. Instead, he'd send me photos of pretty Christmas displays he thought I'd like and ask about my day. The holiday season was incredibly busy for him, so it was normal to hear from him late at night or early in the morning before he went to the gym.
We texted for weeks before we met up again in late January. He invited me to his restaurant one night, so I went and sat at the bar. His green eyes lit up when he saw me, and he snuck away as much as he could to come talk. He brought me his favorite salmon dish from the menu, along with a glass of crisp white wine from the Okanagan Valley, and told the bartender to keep an eye on me with a cheeky wink.
I stayed until close, chatting to the bartender, Jeff, a fellow Vancouver local. We talked about our favorite places in the city and the surrounding area until Theo snuck up behind me.
"Want to get out of here?" he asked, an excited smile on his face.
I nodded, and he slipped my coat over my shoulders before grabbing my hand and leading me out the door. We walked a little way down the street, barely making it past the windows of the restaurant before he kissed me.
"I've been wanting to do this all night," he admitted before closing the distance between us.
The kiss was magical. I should have felt awkward in the middle of the street, but it was after 11:00 p.m. on a weeknight, and there was nobody else around. I felt like the main character in one of those Hallmark movies; all that was missing was the fluffy snowflakes and the leg pop.
Over the following months, we fell into a pattern. His job and work hours made things complicated. As part owner of the restaurant, he rarely had time off. We communicated mainly by text message or phone call, and I would find myself altering my schedule to better fit his, which often meant staying awake past midnight to talk when he finished at work.
We only met in person every couple of weeks, and it was always last minute. He'd text me if work was quiet and ask me to meet him at the restaurant. I'd sit at the bar like I did the first night, chat with Jeff and the other staff. Then Theo and I would leave together once he was done for the night. We'd spend the night at his place, but I always had to leave early in the morning for work. Being a chef and restaurant owner meant weekends were his busiest times, so we often met up midweek. But I worked a traditional Monday-to-Friday, nine-to-five schedule and had to be gone by morning.
It was fun, and I looked forward to my time with him, but I was getting frustrated. I loved how ambitious he was with his goals and work, but I had goals too, and I was getting tired of basing our relationship on his schedule. When I finally brought it up last week, he agreed to get off work early one night.
"Friday," he told me. "I'll get off early and take you on a proper date. I'll pick you up, and we'll have food and wine and…"
To be honest, I didn't care what he had planned. I was just excited that he was finally making a real plan and taking time off to spend with me on my terms. While neither of us was seeing anyone else, we had never actually defined our relationship, and I had hoped that our first real date would change that.
But as it turned out, I got my hopes up for nothing.
Once again, his work came first.
"Being with Theo makes me feel special," I admitted to Mel. "When we're together, I have all of his attention. He makes me feel appreciated and wanted. More than anyone has before. We talk about everything, and we have similar goals."
I glanced at Mel, who had heard it all before but still sat patiently, listening to me while sipping her latte. She'd say her piece, but not until I finished mine.
"But when we aren't together…" I paused, remembering how he made me feel last night. How he couldn't even be bothered to call me and tell me he was working. How all he sent me was a text two hours after he was meant to pick me up.
"When we aren't together, I question it. I feel like a distraction. Sometimes in a good way, with his work life being so busy and chaotic. But other times, I feel like I just get in the way."
In a strange way, it felt good to finally admit it out loud. The dark thoughts that had been in the back of my mind all these months. That while I was falling for him, he was just another guy who saw me as some temporary, casual fun. That despite what he told me, I wasn't actually the type of girl that he wanted. If I was, wouldn't he make more time for me?
Mel sighed before grabbing my hand.
"Calla, you are special. You're kind, and warm, and smart, and beautiful. We all see it—you just need to catch up to the rest of us," she smiled gently. "And you deserve someone who gives you attention and makes you feel special. However, you also deserve someone who prioritizes you sometimes. Who respects your goals and your needs. Relationships are about meeting in the middle. Sure, sometimes that doesn't always work. Sometimes one person needs to bend a little more than the other. But it shouldn't be the same person bending all the time. There still needs to be balance."
She paused for a minute as we watched a seaplane take off. The propellers whirred into a blur as the plane skimmed atop the surface of the water before lifting into the air, soaring towards the snow-capped mountains in the distance.
"Casual dating can be fun. But I don't think that's what you want here. You want more than a late-night meet-up every couple of weeks and a string of text messages. And you absolutely deserve to feel like you are more than just a distraction."
With that, my phone buzzed again, the flashing on the screen indicating that Theo was, once again, trying to call me.
We both made a face at his name on the screen, but Mel broke the silence first. "I'm mad at him, too," she assured me, crinkling her empty pastry bag as she stood. "But the silent treatment isn't helping. At least let the man know that you aren't dead in the gutter."