I stab a tomato with my fork. “I thought I had made my intentions clear.”
“You don’t intend for this to go anywhere. You weren’t exactly subtle.”
“So then where’s the miscommunication?”
He twirls his fork in his bowl of spaghetti. “I don’t understand why we can’t have a conversation if we’re going to be sitting here anyway.”
“Because I have work to do.”
“Do you always have work to do?”
“Yes.”
“When do you take time for yourself?”
“I don’t.”
“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”
“I’m fit as a fiddle, Dr. Loving.” I gesture to his pasta with my fork, lettuce speared on the tip of it. “Dare I say, I might be healthier than you.”
“There’s more to health than the difference between pasta and a salad.” He chugs the last of his wine. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”
“I’ll take a vacation when I retire.”
“I literally save children’s lives for a living and even I take vacations.”
“Some of us are just born with a strong work ethic, I guess.” Though I don’t think I was born this way. So muchof my drive can likely be attributed to my burning need to be nothing like my mother, but that is a sentiment I don’t share with anyone, let alone handsome strangers.
Ben sits back in his seat. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Great.” I raise my hand for the check. I’ll be home earlier than I thought, giving me more time to prep for my meeting tomorrow. It’s essential that we bag this client if we really want to take things to the next level at Andrews & Associates. And by we, I really mean I, as I am the one who has orchestrated this whole deal, and I will be the one to take full credit when it’s solidified, basically guaranteeing the firm will go to me should my grandmother ever decide to retire.
“Leaving so soon?” Mimi gestures to the plates of half-uneaten food. “You haven’t even finished your dinners.”
“Sometimes it’s best just to cut your losses, I suppose.” Ben holds out his hand to accept the check.
Something about his statement feels like a rejection and it sort of stings. Which is ridiculous because clearly I didn’t want to be here in the first place.
Ben studies the check, one of those old-fashioned–looking ones where the server has to write each item in by hand.
I snatch it from his grasp. “Please. Let me.” I pull my wallet from my purse, credit card at the ready, when I realize there’s no total at the bottom of the bill.
Instead, there’s a note.
Tonight, your meal is on me, with the hopes that during the next one you share together, you’ll choose to be present and accept the love that surrounds you. XO, Mimi
I snort-laugh, looking around the restaurant for Mimi so I can tell her I would rather just pay for my meal than endure her passive aggression. But the little gray-haired lady is nowhere to be found, and to be frank, I don’t care enough to waste any more of my time.
I toss the piece of paper back on the table, throw down a fifty-dollar bill, and give a half wave. “I’d say nice to meet you, but I don’t think you’d want to return the sentiment.”
Ben looks at me, his eyes boring into mine like they see way too much. He takes the bill from the table, folds it in half, and slips it into the inner pocket of his blazer. There’s an enamel pin in the shape of a giraffe on the lapel and I wonder if he just came from work too, if—despite his protests—the line between work and home blurs for him as much as it does for me.
But none of that matters because this is the first and only time I will be in the presence of Dr. Ben Loving. I should have known this date was doomed from the moment Grandmother told me his ridiculously on-the-nose name.
Pushing back his chair, Ben stands and gestures for me to exit the restaurant in front of him. His hand finds the small of my back as we make our way through the tables, and I should really hate how my body instinctively leans into the warmth of it.
The moment we step outside, I put as much space as possible between us. “Well, this has been an experience. See you around, I suppose.”
