“You clearly haven’t seen me play basketball.” I gesture to my body, and he tracks it with his gaze. The heat in his eyes makes all my nerve endings sing. “I got the height without the basketball talent. It’s unfair.” I watch him as he looks down at the table, as though he has to pull his attention away from me with monumental effort. “And I’m compassionate, but sometimes I think I’m too direct to be nurturing. My mouth has gotten me in trouble a lot in my life.” My voice lowers in volume. “It’s part of why I’m undecided on kids.”
He crosses his ankle over his opposite knee and leans to the side. The movement pulls his sweater taut over the muscles in his chest, and I stare him. Everything he does, all his little mannerisms, even the sound of his voice, draws me in.
“There’s nothing wrong with being undecided,” he says.
“What about you?” I gulp. “You dead set on kids?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m undecided too.” He smiles. “Something I’ll talk about with my future wife, I guess.”
My future wife.My heart thumps. The way we look at each other now is intense. I can tell we’re both thinking about it, about forever, and it doesn’t scare me at all.
I glance out the window. It’s fully dark, though the parking lot is illuminated by streetlights and the glow from other businesses around.
“Should we get going?”
“I like hearing you say ‘we.’” Grant’s ears turn a little pink. “Let’s go.”
We walk to his car together. Before I walk to the passenger side, he cages me against the side of the car and plants his arms on either side of me. He leans forward and captures my lips, pouring every emotion of the last few weeks into this connection between us, pressing against me like he can’t bear to let an inch of space between us.
“You promise this is real?” he murmurs against my lips.
“It’s real,” I tell him.
Over the next few weeks, we go on more dates, meeting for dinner, coffee, whatever we have time for. His schedule is absolutely ridiculous, but he seems to be making time for me. My schedule, for that matter, is busy with work and friends, but residents are on a whole other level when it comes to their time.
He sends me flowers, and texts me throughout the day. I call him on my way home sometimes. We share jokes and little stories about our lives. It’s real romance, in a way, and I feel wooed for the first time in my life.
I message him on Sunday afternoon. A barren tree limbtaps against my bedroom window with the wind as I sit at my desk.
Me
I know you’re at the hospital. I’m just saying hi.
Me
If I texted you every minute today until you are able to respond, would that bother you?
Me
What if showed up there and followed behind you?
I giggle to myself, imagining the lazy smile that will spread on his face when he reads what I’ve sent him. I lay the phone facedown so I’m not tempted to stare at our message thread, but I’m surprised when it buzzes a few minutes later.
Grant
Trust me, I would much, much rather be with you right now.
My cheeks ache with my grin. I suck in a deep breath.
Me
You want to get together later this week? When youhave some time, I mean.
Grant
Actually, I have plans for us Saturday. I have a whole day off work.
Me
