Em
I looked at the forlorn, empty seat beside me at the awards ceremony. Ian really should have returned my ticket, but it wasn’t like an engagement ring. He probably forgot all about it. Besides, I didn’t even need the ticket; none of my friends could go. Abby originally promised to come, but now was too busy. Not many working people could make a lunchtime event. My boss Sergei was here with his wife, and Donna had brought her mother.
Well, I needed to get used to attending couples events alone. It would take ages before I even felt like dating again. Dating for fun turned out to be way worse than relationship dating—but that was my fault for falling in love. I wasn’t wired for casual dating.
We discussed Donna’s plans for the fall. She was going to attend the London School of Economics for her PhD and her supervisor would be a Canadian female economist we both admired.
“You’re so lucky,” I told her. “I went to hear her speak, and she was amazing.”
“Why don’t you come and visit me in London? I’d love to see you, and you could meet Nava,” Donna said.
Me? Go to London? I’d never gone on a trip alone in my whole life.
But why not go? If dating Ian had shown me anything, it was that not following an overarching plan could be a lot of fun. Once I was over my breakup sadness, I was going to embrace the whole carpe diem thing.
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I said.
Donna beamed, but her eyes were drawn to something behind me.
“Is this seat taken?” said an oddly familiar voice.
I turned and looked up. The man was tall and well-dressed in a dark suit and expensive tie. He had close-cropped hair and he looked a lot like—
“Ian?” I croaked.
“Em. Sorry I’m late.” He slid into the seat beside me.
I could not stop staring at him, but I was speechless.
Donna extended a hand across the table. “Hi, I’m Donna Calvin.”
He shook her hand. “Ian Reid. You co-authored the paper on gendered risk aversion. Congratulations.”
She nodded. “Thank you. Did you read our paper?”
I waited for Ian’s snort of denial.
He sat back in his chair. “I have, actually. Most of it went over my head, of course, but I was intrigued by the finding that women in the 45–64 age group are more risk-loving than younger cohorts.”
“Yes, that was our most surprising finding,” Donna agreed.
Was I dreaming? It was Ian, but he didn’t sound like Ian. He was discussing economics. He was exquisitely dressed and sleekly groomed. His short hair was perfectly styled.
“Em, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Sergei asked.
I regained my ability to speak long enough to introduce Ian to Sergei and his wife, as well as Donna’s mother.
Our lunches arrived. When Ian picked up his fork, I squinted at his hands. His skin looked soft and moisturized, and his nails were shiny. Maybe he was some kind of robotic clone: Ian Reid 2.1.
I had so many questions, but I couldn’t ask any of them in front of other people.
“What do you do, Ian?” Sergei asked.
“I’m in the construction business.” Well, that was true, but now everyone at the table thought he was a developer mogul. He certainly looked like one.
Also, what was so familiar about his voice? Or the voice he was using. Ian was like an actor, completely transforming himself for a role. But transformation wasn’t a quality I’d ever seen in Ian. He was so emphatically himself in a take-me-or-leave-me way.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I leaned over and whispered into his now visible ear, “Why are you doing all this?”
He turned, and his brown eyes met mine. “It’s all for you, Em.”
For me? But I was the one who had come around to accepting Ian exactly as he was. Yes, I’d been “a big snob,” as Abby had said, but after a lot of introspection, I was a better person.
Would Ian—the Ian he was pretending to be today—be my dream guy? Someone sexy, athletic, intellectual, and sophisticated?
I shook my head. I loved the old Ian. The down-to-earth guy who could put everything into perspective for me.
“You’re so quiet, Em,” Sergei commented.
I snapped back to attention. In half an hour, this luncheon would be over, and I could talk to Ian privately. I put the conundrum to the back of my mind—that was how I did my best problem-solving anyway.
They were announcing the four award winners today, and ours would be third. I did my best to concentrate on the short keynote by an economics professor from Queens. And then the awarding of prizes began.
Donna squeezed my hand. “I’m so nervous.”
I squeezed back. “You don’t have to be. You’re already accepted to grad school.”
Just being finalist for this award was already a C.V. worthy accomplishment. But of course she wanted to win. Donna was a lot smarter than me. The fact that she was accepted to L.S.E. was proof of that, but I already knew it. Her brain made rapid connections between disparate facts and her memory was prodigious.
Was this how Ian saw me? Someone whose brains made leaps that his didn’t? He was accepting of my job and the fact that I made more money than he did. But he’d never asked questions about my work.
“And now the finalists for the MacLean Medal, awarded to women advancing the field of economics.”
The words penetrated my consciousness, but I was still thinking about Ian.
“...Donna Calvin and Emerald Davis for their paper entitled ‘Brave Women: Risk Aversion, Investment Decision Making, Sex and Age.’”
Then everything clicked into place. Ian had thought he wasn’t good enough for me. He was doing this to prove to himself he could be my partner. That he could understand my work. And only then could he accept my love.
I turned to him, tears starting to blur my sight. Thank you, I mouthed.
He frowned at me and tilted his head towards the podium, like I should be listening.
Then Donna squealed, Sergei clapped, and Ian grinned. He pulled me up to standing and motioned to Donna, who was already making her way up to the front.
“Go get ’em, tiger,” he said.
“Okay. But first...” I hugged Ian and felt the safety of his strong arms around me.
Sergei gave me the afternoon off. Ian and I went for a celebratory drink with Donna and her mother. Ian maintained his impeccable manners throughout and even dropped the names of Tversky and Kahneman, the founders of behavioural economics, into the conversation.
“You’re so lucky,” Donna told me when we went to the washroom together. “Having a boyfriend who takes such an interest in your work.”
“I am lucky,” I agreed. If she only knew how much work he’d done for this day, she’d be even more impressed.
Donna lowered her voice. “And perhaps I’ve been in academia too long, but Ian also has a robust masculine quality about him that I seldom encounter. It’s very attractive.”
I giggled madly at this. Even fine clothes and a haircut couldn’t hide Ian’s real nature.
Ian and I stayed at the bar after Donna and her mother left. We moved to a corner booth where we could talk more privately. He took off his jacket and loosened his tie.
“How’d I do?” Ian’s normal voice was such a relief, like meeting an old friend. I scooted over and sat right next to him.
“You were amazing. I can’t believe how much you learned in such a short time.”
“Me either,” he agreed. Then he rolled up his sleeves and treated me to a tasty view of his muscled forearms. “Apparently, you can teach an old dog new shit.”
I giggled. Again, it was a relief to know that Ian was still himself. “Thank you for doing all this for me.”
He smiled, but his eyes were a bit wary. “You’re the only one I’d do all this for. So, do you want me to explain myself now?”
I shook my head. He’d done it to prove something to me and to himself. And my ability to understand without being told would be a relief to Ian, who hated discussing feelings. “Luckily for you, I’ve figured it out. But I wouldn’t mind hearing how you did all this.” I leaned against him, and he put his arm around me.
“Cast of thousands,” he said. “Mason, Abby, and Mason’s parents. I read some kinda Economics for Dummies book. And I read your paper.”
“You did? Wow.”
“Yeah, I kept falling asleep, so I had to read it in stages.”
I fake-punched him in the stomach, and he laughed.
“Wait—Mason! That’s who you sounded like. I kept thinking, why does this voice sound so familiar? I figured it was because it was your voice.” I stared at him in admiration. “Wow. How can you even do that?”
“Guess I still got talents you don’t know about.” His hand squeezed my shoulder and pulled me in closer. “Em, I’m so sorry I hurt you before. That I made you unhappy.”
“Oh.” His apology made me feel fragile, like I was going back to that depth of sadness. “That’s okay.”
Ian shook his head. “It’s not okay. And if you take me back, I promise I’ll be a better guy.”
I liked the way he wasn’t presuming anything here. That even though he’d done so much to get to this moment—and I was currently glued to his side—it was still my choice.
“Of course I want to get back together. I never wanted to break up,” I said.
“Me neither. It sounds stupid now, but I really thought you’d be better off with Lucas.”
Now he looked so unhappy that I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Yes, but that’s up to me to decide.”
“I get that now.” He cupped my face in one hand and ran a thumb over my cheek.
“Ian, I do have one condition on our getting back together.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Here it comes. Okay, hit me.”
“Don’t assume you know what I want. My priorities have shifted.”
Ian looked highly skeptical. “Are you saying suddenly you don’t want to get married and have kids? Because that’s pretty hard to believe.”
“No. All I’m saying is that I’m not going to try to manage what happens anymore. I can’t control how you feel. Besides, it’s far too soon for us to get serious.”
“Sounds too good to be true,” he said.
“Well, there is a downside.” I’d had a brilliant idea while I was moping and reliving every moment of our time together.
Ian watched me, wordless.
“I waited ten years for Lucas to propose. That was dumb. I should have periodically evaluated the relationship—my side of it, anyway. I’ve had more fun with you in a few months than I had in all the years before. This is the way life should be.”
“I’m glad you’ve been happy. I still don’t get the downside, though.”
I summoned up my courage. “Here’s the thing: you can take as long as you want to decide how you want things between us to go. But I’m free to decide I want a change too.” I wanted to be independent enough that I could leave a relationship, either because it wasn’t satisfying or because I wanted more.
He sighed. “Em, I hate to break this to you, but this is how all relationships work. People stay until it’s not working.”
Well, that was disappointing. To figure out a breakthrough and then find out it was normal. “So, I’m the abnormal one? I hate when everyone assumes that I’m reliable, predictable old Em.”
Ian shook his head. “Did old Thomas think that? Or the drug dealer? Bet they weren’t expecting you to kick them to the curb.”
I laughed. “I guess not.”
“Don’t punish me for Lucas’s mistakes. I would never leave you hanging for ten years.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Nine, maybe.”
When I tried to hit him, Ian caught my wrist first. The strong grip of his hand kindled a sexy spark inside me.
“Isn’t there still one thing left on my fuck-it list?” I asked.
Ian was all innocence. “Really? I thought we checked off everything.”
“I added a new one. I can’t believe you forgot—the tool belt one!”
He let out a big fake sigh. “I get all done up and all you want is the old Ian.”
I kissed him again, letting my mouth linger on his. He tasted like lust and promises.
When we finished kissing, he smiled at me. That familiar crooked grin. “You’re in luck, babe. I have a change of clothes in the truck. Including my tool belt.”
And I was supposed to be the planner in this relationship. Today, he had truly thought of everything. “What’s it like to have a job that makes you the target of female fantasies?”
“Good,” Ian said.
I put a hand on his thigh. “What would the title of your porn movie be? The Carpenter’s Big Tool? Stud Finder? Handyman gets Handsy?”
“Kinda partial to Stud Finder.” Ian put his hand on the back of my neck and massaged. Feeling his touch again was bliss.
“Nobody fantasizes about economists,” I said.
“I do,” said Ian. “Only one, though.”
“Awww, you’re sweet.”
He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I can’t wait to get my invisible hands on your unfettered markets.”
For a moment I was stunned silent. It was the corniest economics joke ever. But the fact that he could make it so easily showed me how hard Ian had worked to understand what I did.
I turned to face him. “Oh my gosh, you’re incredible. I love you, Ian Reid.”
He grinned. “Love you too.”