Finding Isadora(74)

I waited for the waiter to deliver Richard’s coffee, then sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Now I wished I’d managed to prepare that speech. I started with the most important thing. “I love you, Richard, I really do.”

He frowned slightly. “I love you, too.”

I gulped. “But I’ve been doing some thinking and… Oh damn, this is so hard to say.”

His expression went solemn. “Iz? What’s wrong? Is this about your father?”

“Jimmy Lee?” Startled, I gaped at him. “No, not at all. It’s about, uh, us.” I stalled again.

He frowned, then shoved his glasses up with a stabbing gesture. “I’m getting the drift.” His gaze dropped to my left hand. The diamond ring wasn’t on my finger; it was in my purse, in the box it had come in. The earrings were there, too. Richard was a smart, perceptive man. “Just say it, Iz.” There was an edge to his voice I’d never heard before.

“I … don’t think we should be engaged any more.”

His eyes widened momentarily, then he wiped his face blank of expression. “Why not? You just said you love me.” He was in lawyer-mode. His speech snapped out like cross-examination.

It broke my heart, even more than if he’d cried. I wanted to reach for his hand, but guessed he would push me away. “I do love you, R-Richard.” My voice broke and I choked back a sob. “But I’ve come to realize I love you as a friend.”

“A friend? You have sex with your friends?”

He was attacking me and I deserved it. “No, I don’t. And the sex—everything about our relationship—has been great. It’s just that…” I broke off, not sure how to continue.

“What? Everything’s great and you love me, but you want to break up.” The words spat out sarcastically. “What is this, Iz? Is it because I’m spending too much time at work, or because of what I’m planning with Eric? You told me you understood.”

“I do.” For the first time it dawned on me that maybe, if I’d been more passionately in love with Richard, I’d have been jealous of the time he spent with others. But I couldn’t tell him that. “It’s not about those things.”

He studied me, his eyes narrowed. Then his jaw dropped and his eyes widened again. “You’ve met someone else.”

Every muscle in my body jerked. “No!” I hadn’t. Not in the way he meant.

He scowled. “So, you haven’t met someone and you’re not upset with me. You’re not making any sense.”

I took a deep breath. At least I was no longer on the verge of tears. “I’ve been thinking about relationships, and everything that goes into them. And I thought about … passion. I love you and the sex is really good, but we don’t have that passionate chemistry.”

He looked insulted, then frowned slightly and his eyes went out of focus as if he was remembering something. Perhaps another woman, for whom he’d felt passion? “Maybe you’re right.” But then he squinted his eyes and shook his head. “But hell, the sex is good, isn’t it? Who wants that irrational kind of passion? It can get you into trouble.”

Oh yes, it could. “Sure, I know. And I’m not saying passion’s enough. There have to be other things as well. Common goals and philosophies of life. Compatibility. The ability to really talk to each other, to share problems and face challenges, to make decisions and compromises.”

He shook his head, looking as if he found me unbelievably naive. “You forgot to mention that the guy has to understand about your parents and how you may end up supporting them. Oh yeah, and be willing to live with a menagerie of abandoned animals. You’re going to find all that in one man? Good god, Iz, you’re the one who just used the word compromise.”

My heart gave a sickening lurch. After all, I’d been up all night worrying about that very thing. “I honestly don’t know what I’m going to find,” I said softly. “But I’m only twenty-seven. I want to try.”

“To find a man who’s better than me.”

“No, not better. Richard, you’re wonderful. And you deserve more too. You pretty much confessed you don’t feel passionate about me.” For the first time in my life I knew that I wanted—deserved—true passion.

“Nor did I ever say that passion—by which I think you really mean lust—is important to me. We have good sex, Iz, we’re compatible in bed. And that’ll last, whereas your stupid passion will burn out and you’ll be left with—” He broke off and said, “Oh, f*ck!”

Richard, unlike his father and my parents, rarely swore.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“What if you don’t find this superman you’re looking for?”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I guess I start making compromises.”

“But not now? You say you want a relationship where the partners make compromises, but you’re not willing to do that now, and sacrifice passion. Look at Mom and Frank. They have a great marriage but I don’t think it’s exactly passionate.”

I reflected on what I’d seen of his family. “I don’t either, and I agree they both seem happy, but…”

“But you still want the passion.”