“You kissed a stranger?” I ask, incredulous.
“Isn’t that what New Year's Eve is all about?” He grins. “Scratch that. I know that's not what it's all about. Besides, she kissed me more than I kissed her. Anyway, let’s move on to a different topic. What did you do today?”
I sip my drink and tell him, “I went to the Social Security office and filed for a name change.”
He pauses mid-reach for his drink. “I wasn't expecting you to say that.”
I chuckle. “I’m changing my last name back to Maxwell.”
Grady has regained his composure and now has his beer firmly in his grip. “Back to?”
“My divorce was final a few months ago.”
“You hardly look old enough to be divorced. You hardly look old enough to have been married."
Maybe I should just tell him that I'm still suffering from a broken heart from another man, and then I can watch him sprint out of here.
I smile at the thought and tell him I’m gathering fodder for my future novels.
He asks me about writing, and I share with him my most recent good news. “I called the editor yesterday. Her secretary set me up for a meeting in two weeks.”
He grins and shakes his head. “I can't believe I know somebody famous."
I wag my finger at him. “Not yet.”
“You will be. I believe in you.”
My smile falters. Aidan has said that exact same thing to me, countless times.
Our date lasts another forty-five minutes. Grady talks about growing up in New York City, and like many other times in my life, I feel grateful my parents raised me in the suburbs. When Grady asks about my parents, I give him basic information. The less detail about them, the better.
Grady walks me out of the bar, and I thank him for the drink. We stand there, locked in that awkward moment at the end of the date. He leans in like he's going to kiss me, and I freeze. At the last moment, I turn my head and his lips land on my cheek.
He pulls back, an embarrassed smile dusting his lips. “I'll see you again soon?” His tone is hopeful.
“Sure,” I answer before turning to walk away. I'm going in the wrong direction of my apartment, but I don't care. I just have to get away.
Unwilling to risk a second awkward run-in with Grady, I take a circuitous route home.
When I get home, I find Savannah sitting on the couch thumbing through a magazine. “How’d it go?” she asks, tossing the magazine down beside her. Her eyes, which at first were hopeful, absorb my expression. Their glimmer dulls as she waits for my response.
Holding up a hand, I begin to tick off Grady’s attributes that are immediately recognizable. “He’s nice. Charming. Sweet. Funny.” I groan. “And a doctor. A freaking doctor, Savannah.”
“But?”
I plop down on the couch beside Savannah and pick up her copy of Us Weekly. “He’s not Aidan.”
24
Aidan
I’ve takenthe afternoon off to go with Allison to the big appointment. The gender appointment. She asked me if we should wait to learn, telling me about something she heard of where the doctor’s office tells a bakery the gender, and they bake a cake with either blue or pink dye. The expectant parents cut into the cake and that's how they learn what they’re having. I'm sure for some people that sounds like a great idea, but it doesn't work for me. When I told her I'd rather just find out the old-fashioned way, she agreed, even though I could see her disappointment.
To make up for my lack of enthusiasm about revealing the gender, I left work early and am going to swing by her apartment and take her to the appointment. Our plan had been to meet there, but this way I can give her some sort of surprise, even if it doesn't have to do with our baby’s gender.
I walk up to her building and catch the door just as somebody is walking out. Mumbling my thanks, I hurry inside out of the cold.
I take the elevator to the fourth floor and step off. As soon as I step foot in the hallway, I hear them: angry voices floating down from somewhere. As I get closer, I see Allison’s front door is cracked open. Voices float through the small fissure. A man's, followed by a woman’s.
