The Next Best Thing: Part II

Six

He parked a few blocks away from a promenade adjacent to the Millennium Park. There was a nighttime street festival being held, complete with food trucks, street artists and vendors from different walks of life.

A large number of people were milling about the place, sampling the food, listening to the poetic lyrics of the music or purchasing a few thrifty items including tie-dyed merchandise selling at incredible rates.

I seemed to fit into the atmosphere as a whole, such events happening to be one of my scenes. Warm evening weather, a light, fresh breeze and the drifting aroma of divine smelling foods jump-started my night. I appreciated Eoin more for knowing exactly I had needed.

Our first order of business was searching for that one piece of art I thought had a beautiful story and just had to buy. It's one thing I always did with Mitchell when we had time to visit any of these occasions. He never understood why I developed deep connections to people's work as quickly as I did but he would look forward to when I did.

To him that meant I was going to have a great source of joy - a happy Zoe meant a generous Zoe which meant a happy Mitchell who could manipulate me into doing anything for or with him. It didn't hurt that he also enjoyed learning new things about me.

"It gives me reason to believe us being together is meant to be," he would say.

At the time I lived by that notion.

Eoin guided me towards a stall manned by a petite woman advertising her daughter's artwork. He was mesmerized by one of a small ballerina midair depicted by a few feather pink strokes, watercolours and an odd addition of paper mâché newspapers.

"She is an incredible artist, Sophia," he complimented the woman. "I'd love to get this one piece, please?"

She sold it to him at a much, much cheaper cost than written on the price stamp attached to the canvas. All thanks to his politeness, his charm and that god awful accent of his that made jelly out of many knees, he pretty much got everything he wanted.

Eoin resorted to generously tipping her tips jar as he could not "rip her off". His big heart would probably make him bankrupt one day in the future. He just couldn't care less and I very much admired him for that.

"Are you adding that to your vast collection?"

"No. I thought it would look beautiful in my niece's nursery," he explained, thanking the woman for her kind service. "Imogen is having a girl, you see." Imogen being the name of his stunning sister.

"You cannot begin to understand how much I love babies," I responded, my face lighting up at the mention of the sweet smelling, teethless little critters.

I would love to have my own baby I could dote over, a mini version of me I would love unconditionally. Something I could call my own.

We passed by a bench where sat was a woman about a few years older than me holding a chubby toddler with bushy hair and the roundest, rosiest cheeks. He cooed at Eoin and I, his small arms reaching out in greeting. His mother smiled at us.

"He's a little social butterfly. Right, Ben? Yes you are, yes you are," she cooed, burying her lips in his neck. He laughed, and I caught a glimpse of his two little incisors peeking out of his small mouth.

I took his small hand into mine, kissing it and playing with his tiny fingers. I asked if I could hold him, my motherly instincts on a new high.

Kate, his mother, held him up and I took him into my arms, bouncing him up and down which he thoroughly enjoyed.

Eoin watched attentively on the sidelines, a small smile on his face. I noticed him taking a few pictures of baby Ben and I, the artist in him inspired by my cute moment. After I gave him back to his mother, I wished Kate a good night and waved at little Ben who waved his little arms back.

We weaved through the crowds in silence afterwards; I would look up at Eoin and look away, waiting for him to say something. Finally he spoke up, teasing me for my behaviour around Ben.

"I thought I'd have to drive the getaway car when you looked like you were about to kidnap him. My mother would have a fatal stroke," he laughed, nudging me off the pavement.

"He was just too cute, Eoin!" I cried. I could still smell his musky scent which got me all the time.

"I'm seriously going to consider getting you a dog, Zoe," he said.

He led me to a rack displaying handmade scarfs, grabbing one and tying it around his loose hair. It looked great on him, the vibrant colours contrasting with his pale eyes.

"You look handsome," I admitted, adjusting it properly on his head. I had to stand on my toes to reach his hair; my eyes lingered on his face for a while longer than they should have. His eyes locked with mine and we stood quiet in the square, staring at each other.

"People are starting to stare at us, Zoe," Eoin murmured. Around us, civilians were looking at us in anticipation, assumedly waiting for us to kiss. Apparently we looked like a couple to everyone around us that night.

"Thanks for fixing my hair," Eoin whispered in my ear and took my hand, moving us along without any public displays of our non-existent affection.

We walked further into the street fest, Eoin directing me to the food trucks. "Finally," I thought out loud. I was starving, my body emaciated from my inability to stomach food. Mitchell wouldn't think I was beautiful anymore looking like this.

I didn't either.

I chose the truck selling specialty pizzas, my feelings of nostalgia returning: I missed my home, the city of New York.

Ordering a garlic, pepperoni and pepper pizza topped with buffalo mozzarella and matured cheddar, I got the most incredible stare from Eoin.

"Are you ordering for me too? Because I should warn you, I'm allergic to garlic," he announced, coming up to me.

I shook my head vigorously with a stupendous look. "I'm very hungry. Besides that, I don't share pizza," I responded.

He was amused, his face pure pride and envy. "None of the girls that I know would even dare to eat pizza, let alone pizza with that much cheese."

"I'm not your typical girl, Eoin. I love my food."

I thanked the truck's chef after he took my order, a wry grin on his face.

"You're welcome back here anytime, sweetheart," the old man smiled.

While Eoin offered to wait for his and my meal, I walked across the street to an open cafe, hoping to find iced tea.

The barrister was warm and friendly, complimenting my dress sense and making polite small talk.

Suddenly, my phone rang in my hand. Afraid it was one of my friends asking after me which I knew would jumpstart the waterworks, I excused myself and ran into the bathroom.

It was my boss, Joss. "Hey, Zoe. I hope you enjoyed Ibiza," she greeted.

"It was fun, thank you very much," I lied. I would forever associate Ibiza with Mitchell and my doomed relationship and how it ended horribly.

"I'm glad you did. I'm calling to ask if you could pass by the office on Friday so we can talk. I have a proposal for you."

Friday was in two days.

I had to go back to New York.

"Uh, yeah sure. See you Friday, Joss."

"Goodbye, darling."

I neglected to mention my conversation with Joss to Eoin whilst we ate, reminding myself to do so the next morning after I booked a flight. I did miss home, but I wasn't ready to return so soon. I just wasn't ready.