“That’s twice you’ve saved me from falling this afternoon,” I tell him. I bat my eyelashes. “My hero.”
He scoffs and lets his arms drop from where they’ve wrapped around me. I don’t tell him how close I was to actually swooning. “Right. I’ve been a real gentleman to you.” He glances at me. “What did you mean, my new tactic?”
“I just wondered if you’d moved on from buying me things.”
We pass another park-goer, this one with a big dog who nudges my hand with its cold nose, and I smile. A bead of sweat rolls down my stomach, so I adjust my bra as we walk. Grant watches all this with the kind of interest one might reserve for a particularly good movie. Ha! Platonic, my ass.
“I do like buying you things,” he says. The look he gives me could keep me hot all winter with its intensity. I shiver. “But yeah, I’d like the chance to show you who I am now. In some small way, even though I don’t deserve it.”
We round another curve. We’re over halfway through the loop now.
“Okay, then,” I say. “Tell me what you like to do for fun. That’s a good start.”
“You think I have fun? I thought you said I was a passionless automaton?”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever used those words in that combination.”
He chuckles. “I do like what I do,” he says. “Being a physician. I love sports, obviously, really of any kind. Books and movies, like I said. And travel. That’s one of the things I want todo with my life. I want to see as much of the world as I can, or as much as my job allows for.”
A little wave of sadness crests over me. I’ve always wanted to travel, too, and I could never have dreamed about it back when I was just surviving. It’s uncomfortable how human he sounds—he’s not as hollow as I thought. There’s depth there.
“That’s why you wanted to get out of our little holler,” I say.
“That’s one reason.” He gently kicks an acorn out of the way. “Mostly I just want to experience as much as I can. Once I’m done with residency, that is. I think my goals aren’t as virtuous as yours.”
“You don’t have to complicate it, though. A life well-lived can just be carving out time for things you enjoy. And being kind. You don’t have to aim for the stars.”
We walk in silence for a few more steps. The dislike is still simmering beneath the surface—or it is for me—but it’s almost companionable, this togetherness. It scares me.
“What about you? I know a little about what you like. Do you get the chance to sing very often?”
“Not as much as I’d like,” I admit. “Unless you count the shower.”
His eyes close for a brief moment, and I get the sense he’s holding back from commenting on that. Is he thinking about me in the shower? I’ve certainly imagined him in that position. My skin burns.
I get another whiff of tacos as we near the exit, and my stomach rumbles.
“You hungry? We could get something to eat.” Grant stops on the sidewalk outside the fence.
“No, I’m good,” I say quickly. It’s a blatant lie, given the noise my stomach just made.
His shoulders drop. Was that mean of me? And why do I even care?
Something has to give here. This limbo is killing me.
“See you tomorrow,” I tell him. I scurry toward my car. When I turn around, he’s still standing on the sidewalk, head hanging low.
The stillness in the conference room suffocates me. Almost no one is in this part of the building, so Grant and I sit in absolute silence together as I glance over the changes he’s made to the educational packet we’re working on.
It’s 4:45 a.m. this time, since we have a busy day ahead of us. I woke up in the middle of the night to get here, and I would give anything to crawl back into bed. Grant, for his part, looks pristine, not a hair out of place. He’s eating a muffin, and the scent of blueberries reaches me. I’m a little surprised, honestly. He seems like the type to stir protein powder into plain yogurt for breakfast.
He doesn’t meet my eyes when he talks about the things he added. “It’s got a little more info about pain control,” he says. “Staying ahead of it, I mean.”
I nod. When I touch his arm, his head jerks up.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That I’ve been so fickle. We have to work with each other, and I need to stop whatever it is I’m doing.”
“It’s not like I don’t deserve it.” He eyes me. “Not like I don’t enjoy it.”
