What Love Looks Like by Lara Mondoux

wouldn’t
have to hurry home. She charged a small fortune for all of the walks and
feedings that Luna needed throughout the day, but my little companion’s comfort
was worth every penny.
    Maureen and I
caught up with Ryan and Kevin, who beat us to the bar. Ryan, always the gentleman,
took my coat when I first walked in but then disappeared for a few moments to
talk with another man in a suit. Now he and Kevin had cocktails in hand and
were chatting up winners from other categories. They knew so many of the people
at the event, just from being in the business and taking care of the city’s
most reputable partiers.
    “You look great
tonight, Elle,” Ryan said when he returned.
    “Thank you.
Congratulations on the award. You guys deserve it.”
    “It was a team
effort. We couldn’t do the sales we do without you and Maureen spearheading the
private dining side.”
    He was in a good
mood. I’d only ever seen him drink a few beers, so liquor consumption must have
caused him to come out of his shell. Considering the chilly treatment I’d
received at our last exchange, this was the only explanation I could think of.
    “You’re too
kind. So, what are you drinking?” I asked, hoping to turn the attention back to
him.
    “It’s a Ketel
One on the rocks with a splash of water and a twist.”
    “Yikes. That was
my ex-boyfriend’s drink of choice too.”
    I was eerily
reminded of his drunken escapades, physical and emotional violence included. I
had been young and dumb then, and hadn’t realized that I deserved more than
being shoved around by a drunken control freak when I didn’t do exactly as he
said. It was part of my life that I was still trying to forget.
    “Oh,” Ryan said,
a bit more seriously. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “I only
have a drink every couple of weeks.”
    “You’re allowed
to do whatever you want—I’m not saying anything about you. It just
reminded me, that’s all.”
    “I know how that
is. I still think about my ex-fiancée when anyone orders an amaretto sour.”
    I laughed. “Who
the hell orders an amaretto sour? Was your fiancée a seventeen-year-old girl at
a wedding?” I hated to poke fun at a woman I’d never met, but I'd felt empathy
toward Ryan ever since hearing about his ex’s infidelity.
    “Don’t give her
that much credit—she was way less mature than a seventeen-year-old,” he
said, smiling. “So how are things with the dude from New York?”
    “Things are
good. I’m flying there to see him soon, but you know, taking it slow.” I was
trying to downplay the intensity of my feelings for Jay.
    “Does the
distance bother you?”
    “The right guy
is worth traveling for,” I said, grinning. “Plus, it’s New York City. I could
get used to it.”
    “So you must
think he’s the right guy, then.”
             “He
might be.” Maybe I was mistaken, but I thought that Ryan’s wide-set brown eyes
looked a little disturbed.
             “Well,
that’s great for you, Elle.”
             He
turned back to Kevin, and I to Maureen; I rarely saw her intoxicated but loved
it when I did. The event turned out to be great fun, and I couldn’t help but
notice that Ryan kept my glass full and never let me open a door or pull out a
chair all night long. But then again, that was what he did for a living, and he
did it well. He had that old-school charm about him that most guys not only
didn’t possess, but also didn’t know existed.
    I tried to tear
myself away from the party just before ten, but Maureen insisted that I was too
drunk to drive.
    “I’ll call a
cab,” I said.
    “Just stay at my
place,” Maureen said.
             “I
can’t, I have the dog.”
             “I’ll
take you home,” Ryan said. “It’s on my way.”
             “How
do you know that?” I asked abruptly.
             “You
live near the restaurant, right?”
             “Yes,
she does,” Maureen answered for