“We’ll definitely do something next weekend.” I follow her to the living room and help her find her purse and her phone. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to,” she protests.
“But I want to.” I shove my bare feet into running shoes and we head down to the parking lot, where I give her a very enthusiastic goodbye kiss.
When I finally release her, her cheeks are flushed an adorable shade of pink, and I can’t resist dropping a final kiss on her forehead before I wave her goodbye.
The day passes in a blur. After I shower and eat breakfast, I log in to the hospital network and spend an hour reviewing the charts of the patients booked for surgery tomorrow. Every so often, my brain wanders back to Melissa, and I get a pleasant flashback from last night’s activities.
At around lunchtime, I get a text from Austin.
Austin: How’d it go last night?
Me: Good. Really good.
I realize I owe him an apology for stealing his date. All things considered, he behaved better than I had a right to expect.
Me: Thanks, man. I owe you.
Austin: If you marry her, I get to be best man. For my speech, I’m gonna tell the story of that date.
Me: Deal.
And for the first time in a long while, the thought of getting married doesn’t seem crazy.
Now that Melissa’s been in my condo, it feels empty without her, and I’m strangely relieved when my mother texts to invite me to dinner. Melissa is rapidly becoming an obsession, and I need a distraction.
As I help set the table, Mom tells me about an argument she overheard at the dog park down the street. My parents don’t have a dog, so I’m not entirely sure what she was doing there, but I’m only listening with half an ear. My mind is on Melissa again; I’m planning to call her tonight, and I’m wondering what time her kids go to sleep.
“How’s Melissa Lawrence doing?” my mother asks casually, as she sets a pan of steaming lasagna on the table. “It’s nice that the two of you are back in touch.”
I look up, startled. Drop a fork. How did the conversation move from the dog park to Melissa? It’s as though my mother read my mind.
“She’s well, I think,” I answer cautiously.
“Her daughter’s doing well after the surgery?” my dad asks as he passes me the basket of garlic bread.
“Yeah, she’s fine.”
“How does Melissa like teaching?” my mother asks. “I know Carole Chan was relieved to find someone who could teach upper level math.”
“I think it’s going pretty well.”
My mother nods and sets to work serving the lasagna, and fortunately, the subject of Melissa is dropped.
But I realize I’d like to tell my parents that Melissa and I are back together, and we’re committed to giving this another shot. Unlike Melissa’s mother, my parents are rational people. They won’t start planning a wedding if I tell them Melissa and I are seeing each other.
The problem is, I haven’t really settled this with Melissa. I assumed she knew this wasn’t just a casual fling, but I should have made it clear. I lost her ten years ago because I assumed she knew how I felt, and I can’t make that mistake again.
I should have told her I want to be exclusive. Not only that, I should have asked her about her kids and her teaching job. Shown her that I want a real relationship, not just a physical one.
After dinner, I watch TV with my dad until almost nine, when I figure Melissa’s kids should be asleep. After I say goodnight to my parents, I drive to Melissa’s house and park at the curb. I’m about to walk up to the door when I remember it’s dark, and she’s probably alone in the house with the kids. An unexpected knock on the door might freak her out.
So I stay in my car and send a text, asking if the kids are asleep. It feels like an eternity before she answers, but when I check the time, it’s more like five minutes.
Melissa: Yeah.
Me: Up for some company?
