Over the tops of several gray and bottle-dyed heads of hair, Carlos and I hold a silent conversation with eyebrows and quirked lips. It’s been a long week, we enjoy each other’s company, and free dinner’s free dinner.
We put on a show of our own, dramatically waving a white flag over having a romantic dinner for two at the nicest restaurant in the village. On our way out of the gymnasium, I even call out an overtly reluctant, “Are you sure you don’t need me to stay and help?”
We’re so forcefully shooed off we barely make it into the hallway before snickering like teenagers ditching class. Carlos leads me to a vehicle in the parking lot with four solid doors and an engine quiet enough I can hear him speak the entire drive, short as it may be.
As we walk into the restaurant and he gives the hostess our names, my gaze skims over the cherrywood and deep burgundy walls dotted with mirrors in gilded frames. Candlelight flickers on every table, casting a warm hue and intensifying the intimate setting. As we’re led to a table near the window that overlooks the lake, my stomach rumbles over the scents of butter, garlic, and freshly baked bread—like the upscale version of Grandma’s kitchen, I think with a grin.
After we place our orders, I ask about his next steps for his goal to become chief of medicine, finding his enthusiasm for his career infectious, even if it comes along with a pang.
“There’s a position opening up this winter, and my mentors think I have a shot,” he says, his entire face lighting up.
“What about you?” he asks as our drink orders arrive, thanking the waiter before returning his full attention to me. “Now that you’ve tamed the Silver Swingers and convinced an entire community to use protection, what’s next?”
“We still need to reach our occupancy goals during this last month of summer, but I’m happy with our progress. After this job wraps up…” I shrug a shoulder, hating that I don’t have a set plan. “I guess I’ll figure it out a step at a time, which is new for me.”
I expect a follow-up, maybe a personal admission of his own, but instead he tells me more about his mentor, a senior physician who specializes in internal medicine.
The passion with which he speaks about his job has me nostalgic for the challenge of a behind-the-scenes relay race. The adrenaline of fixing a problem before anyone knew there was one. The lack of sleep and constant jitteriness from the stress, and feeling like I always fell short, no matter how many pieces of myself I gave…
Okay, so there were pitfalls like in any job. The point is, we have similar philosophies about demanding careers, and our conversations flow, which is rare, and see? Carlos is good for me.
By the time our food arrives, I figure we’ve talked about work and ambition plenty and am ready to dive deeper. Thanks to years of online dating and awkward first dates, I also have a wide array of get-to-know-you questions to fall back on.
All the promo materials with our “vacation forever” slogan have been on my mind, so I throw out the question I’ve been asking myself lately. “If you could travel anywhere in the world—money, no object—where would you go?”
He doesn’t even pause, his answer as fast as the unfurling of his white linen napkin. “Switzerland.”
“Ooh, scenic,” I say. “Alps? Fondue? Skiing—we certainly don’t get that here in Florida.”
Carlos shakes his head, his smile spreading wider. “Geneva has one of the most advanced trauma centers in the world. They’ve pioneered a hybrid emergency surgery model that blends vascular and neuro teams. I’d love to spend time observing their process.”
I blink. “Of course. Using your vacation as a surgical shadowing opportunity, how relaxing.”
“What can I say?” He gives a good-hearted laugh as he dives into his food. “I really love what I do.”
I believe him. Especially since, every time I try to steer the conversation toward something else—his childhood, favorite books, how he unwinds after a long shift—he finds his way back to the hospital.
Like a compass with one setting.
I used to be the same way about work. Part of me finds his single-mindedness admirable, even though it prickles my productivity identity and makes me feel like a total slacker, while part of me thinks it’s excessive and sounds exhausting.
Pinpricks of disappointment sting my chest, though I don’t fully understand why.
He’s everything I respect and aspire to be—driven, reliable, and accustomed to long hours at the office, although I’m not sure I’ve healed enough to put myself in that environment again.
But on paper we’re perfect, and the hot doctor doesn’t show reluctance or tell me I’m a bad idea.
He doesn’t ask me out and then disappear.
No, instead, he just waits for my grandmas to do it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following Thursday afternoon, I arrive at the Blushing Beauty photography studio, my nerves agitating in my gut like a washing machine set to heavily soiled.
Sophia pushes her sunglasses atop her head, swapping them for the clear lenses there. “I simplyadorehaving professionals do my makeup and hair.”
“Not me.” I preferred my usual methods controlled by me and the steadiness of my own hand. I’d never claim makeup and hair as an area of expertise, but I am the expert at havingmyhair andmyface.
