Off the Menu (37 page)

“He thinks he’s losing you and it scares him to death.”

“Why would he think that? He doesn’t know about the other job, and he clearly thinks that the show with him is a fait accompli.”

“Alana. You know him better than anyone, and whether you want to admit it or not, he knows you pretty well himself. He can feel you pulling away personally and professionally. You’re in love with RJ. Think he will still feel comfortable showing up in the middle of the night if he knows you aren’t alone? Your family is in love with RJ—think he is going to feel as comfortable coming to holidays and family gatherings as a third wheel? And you didn’t jump at the new job immediately; you said you had to think about it, and deep down, he knows that means you could say no. He must be insane with worry and fear.”

“Why?”

“Because you are his best friend. And his partner. And he knows he is better with you than he is on his own. And his life without you would be chaos.”

“The man is an idiot. And he’s not my best friend.”

“I didn’t say he was yours, I said you are his. There is a big difference.”

I think about that for a minute. And realize she is probably right. “It doesn’t excuse his behavior.”

“Of course not. But it does explain it.”

“What am I going to do?”

“Tonight? Nothing. Tonight you are going to have a wonderful birthday celebration, and pretend that Patrick doesn’t exist. You’ll deal with it in a day or two.”

“So I wasn’t wrong to uninvite him?”

“No. And you shouldn’t re-invite him. If you’re going to salvage your friendship and your professional relationship, he needs to know there are consequences to his actions. Let him stew. Let him know that you will not tolerate this ridiculous behavior. It’ll do him good.”

“Okay. I wish I didn’t feel so guilty about it.”

“Well, you can’t fix your heritage. Just try to ignore it.”

She gives me a hug, and then the front door opens. “My wildest fantasy come true!” RJ says from the door, observing our embrace.

“Naughty boy, come kiss me,” Bennie says, and RJ obliges. Then he turns to me.

“Wow. You are so beautiful.” He looks me up and down, and then pulls me in for a delicious kiss.

“Hello, handsome boy.”

“Hello, birthday girl. You ready for a party?”

“You betcha.”

We head to Chalkboard, which is aglow with candles and
beautifully set. Everyone arrives, and despite my specific request for no gifts, there are bags and packages galore. The food is spectacular, people make lovely toasts, and I feel truly blessed and happy. I am getting ready to think about cutting the cake when I realize that RJ is suddenly not by my side. Figuring he probably went to the bathroom, I decide I’ll freshen up myself, and head back down the small hallway that leads to the kitchen, bathrooms, and eventually out to the back garden. The back door is ajar, and I hear voices. Voices I recognize. I sneak down the hall to get closer.

“You just can’t be here, man. Not tonight. You hurt her once today, and I’m not going to let you do it again. You’re younger than me and in better shape, but have no doubt, I will kick your ass if I have to.” RJ is calm, but clear.

“Look, I get it, I fucked up, and I know she’s pissed, but I just want to apologize.” Patrick sounds genuinely remorseful.

“I’m glad you know you fucked up, and when she’s ready to talk to you, I hope that apology is a good one. But she isn’t ready, and if you go in there tonight, it isn’t about what is good for her, it’s about what’s good for you, and frankly, you cannot begin to fathom the magnitude of the fuck I do not give about what is good for you.”

I have never wanted him more.

I can hear Patrick sigh. “Okay. I get it. You’re right. I just, I love her, man, you know? And I really thought that the stage-fright thing was sort of bullshit, and I figured she would be fake pissed for a minute and then we’d be back to normal. I didn’t really think it through, and I certainly didn’t dream I would make her that upset or ruin any part of her special day.”

“I think I know that, and I think Alana knows that deep down. I think she knows that the bigger part of you is the
part that made that donation in her name and not the asshole who embarrassed her on national television. But you have to suffer on this one.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll go. Will you just, um, give her this and tell her that I’m really sorry and I won’t bug her, but when she is ready I want to apologize in person.”

“Okay. I will. And thank you for coming to the back door and asking for me first and not just barging in on her.”

“Hey, I’m a bull in a china shop, but usually not twice in one day.”

I turn and zip back up the hall and into the bathroom, before my resolve fades and I open the door and invite the devil inside. I check my watch. It’s been nearly fourteen hours. Officially the longest I have ever been furious at Patrick. And even though I haven’t completely gotten over it, I know in my heart I already forgive him.

I pee quickly, wash my hands, freshen my gloss, and return to my party.

“There she is!” RJ says, walking over to join me and giving me a glass of champagne. “I’d like to be the last one to propose a toast, if I may. Six months ago this spectacular woman came into my life and made me the luckiest man on the planet. I pinch myself every day. And as much as I love her and am so glad she is in my life, I have also really loved getting to know all of you. She has broadened my life and heart with much more than just herself, but with her amazing friends and family. Alana, your first forty years made you into the incredible woman we all know and love. And I know I am honored to be along for the ride, and I hope that I can be a part of making the next forty happy and full of love. Thank you for loving me and letting me love you.”

I can feel the tears go. RJ kisses me and hands me his handkerchief.

“And thanks to RJ for putting that shit-eating grin on her face these past six months!” my brother Sasha calls out. We all laugh.

“I just want to thank everyone for coming to help me celebrate today. I love you all, and I am so blessed to have you in my life. And especially I want to thank RJ. One year ago today I asked the universe to send me the person I’d been waiting for, so that I wouldn’t spend one more birthday without him.” I look at my wonderful man. “And I am so happy that the universe complied. I love you very much and you are my every birthday wish come true.”

He kisses me, and everyone claps.

“And now, CAKE, for the love of all that is holy,” I say.

The cake, as I knew it would be, is insanely amazing. And lucky for me, there is enough left over for RJ and me to take a chunk home. Gil brings out a round of Manhattan Milkshakes to accompany the cake, and I wonder why no one ever thought to put bourbon in a vanilla milkshake before. He is an evil genius. Once dessert is over, everyone trickles out, and the waitstaff helps RJ and me load my haul of gifts into his car.

When we get back to my place, we schlepp the gifts inside, and I kick off my heels.

“Sore feet?”

“Too much standing in cute shoes.”

“C’mere.” RJ sits on the couch and pats his lap for me to put my feet there, and he begins to rub them.

“Ahhhh. You are amazing.”

“It’s true, I am, because these things are sweaty and stinky! Peeeuuuuw!” He waves his hand in front of his nose.

“Cut that out!” I pull my feet back, knowing that it is not impossible that they are as he describes them. If I’m not careful I do have a tendency toward the funky feet.

“I’m just kidding. I love your feet.” He leans forward and kisses the top of my foot.

“My feet love you back.”

He pulls me to him and kisses me slowly and softly. “I love everything about you, Alana Ostermann.”

“And I love everything about you RJ Oliver.”

I get up off the couch and hold out my hand, and we head for the bedroom to explore this subject a little more in-depth. An hour later, snuggled up and sated, RJ whispers into my hair.

“Don’t we maybe need more of that cake?”

I pop up. “And presents!”

“Absolutely.”

We jump out of bed and throw on pajamas. RJ heads into the bathroom while I toddle out to the kitchen and pull out the chunk of cake and two forks. I bring the whole thing to the living room, where the gifts are piled on the coffee table. RJ comes out of the bedroom, grabs a fork, and takes a huge bite.

“Good lord that is the best cake ever.”

I take a bite. So moist and delicious. “Naomi, she is a genius.”

“Okay, shall I play Santa?” RJ asks, handing me a present.

“Perfect.” I open one after another, amazed at how great my friends are. Scented candles and beautiful scarves. Cashmere lounging pajamas from Maria, who knows all about my melty Target Cashmiracle wear. A gorgeous antique jade bowl from Bennie. A sassy apron, gift certificates for spa treatments, a Kindle from my siblings. Bottles of wine and champagne.
Cookbooks and a pair of earrings and a new wristlet purse. It is quite the haul and I’m so touched by everything.

“Last one,” RJ says, handing me a large box. “It’s from Patrick. He stopped by the party.”

“I know. I heard you guys when I went to go to the bathroom.”

“Sneaky minx.”

“You were wonderful and I so appreciate your taking care of that situation for me.”

“Of course. For what it’s worth, he knows he was wrong and he is very sorry.”

“I know. But at the end of the day at a certain point you have to stop being wrong and then sorry and you have to start being aware of how your actions affect other people.”

“I agree. Anyway, he promised to not call or bug you till you’re ready, and just wanted to be sure you got this and that I told you that he is truly so sorry that he upset you.”

I take the box and open it. That bastard.

“What is it?”

“It’s a Thermomix.”

“That crazy cooking-blender thing you were telling me about?”

“The very one.” I’ve been coveting this piece of equipment ever since my last trip to Montreal when I found out that nearly every great restaurant there is using them. It is essentially a powerful blender that also heats, so it will cook your soup and then puree it. It can spin slow enough to make risotto or hollandaise, or fast enough to turn whole unpeeled apples into the smoothest most velvety applesauce you’ve ever tasted. They aren’t for sale in stores or online; you have to go through a special independent contractor salesperson, and they don’t sell them in the U.S. Also? They are fifteen hundred dollars,
an expense that even I couldn’t justify for a piece of kitchen equipment.

“I thought you can’t get them here?”

“You can’t. He would have had to go through someone in Canada.”

“Wow. That is pretty amazing.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m starting to fully understand the whole not-staying-mad-at-him problem.”

“He’s Jeckyll and freaking Hyde. I loathe the part of him that pulled that stunt today, but the part of him that made that donation and tracked down this extravagant present for me that he knows I’ve been wanting forever, that part I love.”

“Well, at least he has the good side. A lot of guys in his position don’t.”

“True enough. And speaking of enough, despite this very thoughtful and generous gift, I have had enough Patrick for one day, and I’d rather focus on you and this cake.”

“Works for me!”

We tuck in and finish the cake, and then head back to the bedroom. On my pillow there is a box.

“What is this?”

“No way I was going to let Patrick have the last present of the night.”

“Sneaky. I thought my party was my present.” RJ refused to let me pay for the event tonight, saying it was bad luck to pay for your own party. Even with the super-duper friends and family discount, it was still expensive, and I was blown away by his generosity.

“Your party was your party. This is your present.”

I open the card first.

I immediately begin to cry. And then I open the box.

“I can’t believe you remembered.” Inside is the most stunning Bedat watch, which we had seen in a boutique in New York our very first trip. It has an unusual elongated shape, surrounded by diamonds. I had mentioned very briefly that someday when I was a grown-up I would have a gorgeous elegant watch like that. The whole thing had been maybe a thirty-second pause, and then we moved on. The fact that he even remembered I would want a watch, let alone the specific
one I had seen, especially since it was months ago, just moves me as much as his unbelievable generosity.

“I pay attention.”

“Yes you do. And it is perfect and I love it. And you are perfect and I love you. Thank you for being my birthday wish come true.”

“You are very welcome.”

We climb into bed and I turn out the light.

“Is it just me or did that cake give you a little bit of extra energy?” RJ says, rolling over toward me.

“Oh, my, you frisky boy. I’m going to ask Naomi what she put in there.”

“What can I say, you inspire me.”

“Lucky me.”

Lucky, lucky me.