He nods, and we exit the habitat into the fresh air.
He starts to calm down a bit, but the damage is done. He’s wheezing, eyes watering, nose running.
He blows his nose again and shoves the tissue in his pocket. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I”—another sneeze—“I’m terribly allergic to cats, but I never thought in a million years that would include”—sneeze—“lions at a zoo.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, handing him the travel package of tissues in case he needs another one. “We could’ve gone somewhere else. The aquarium or something.”
He looks at me, splotchy and smiling. “Yeah, if I had a seafood allergy, it would only trigger if I illegally ate the fish.”
I smile. Another bonus that he still keeps a sense of humor through this.
He shakes his head. “Besides, you love the zoo.”Sneeze.“I wanted to take you to the”—sneeze—“zoo.”
I wince. “Well, I appreciate that, but I would never ask you to put yourself through this on my account.”
He blows his nose again, retrieves a new tissue, then holds the package out to me.
“No, you keep them.” I hold up a hand. “And we should probably call it a day. You need to go get some Benadryl or something.”
“But we haven’t had lunch yet.”Sneeze.
I smile at him. “It’s okay. We’ll eat on our second date.”
At that, Duffy smiles. “You’d go out with me again? After this?”
I laugh again. “Sure. It’s not your fault. We’ll go somewhere fun with no lions.”
“Mini golf, maybe,” he says. “Or a similar feline-free environment.”
I laugh. “Sure.”
He sticks his hand out for me to shake, then looks at the balled-up tissue he’s holding and pulls a face. “I’ll call you.”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
He sneezes again, then walks off in the direction of the parking lot.
Not a single butterfly flapping a single wing in my rib cage, and yet... I agreed to a second date.
Because after getting swept up in Off-Limits Miles, maybe someone like Duffy is what I need. Someone grounded who knows what he wants. An old soul, like me.
Does he spike my heart rate? No. But that’s okay.
I’m too old to be swept off my feet and too realistic to know how that ends. I don’t want to live in a world without the promise of love, but love comes in many forms. It doesn’t have to be earth-shattering, heart-stopping love. It can be kind and quiet. A promise to take care of each other. To rummage for tissues in the middle of a sneezing fit.
Or to cheer on the other person when they decide to sink their savings into a bakery with no business experience whatsoever.
And Duffy seems like a good cheerleader.
Right. Yes. This is good.
I’ll go on a few more dentist dates and maybe, just maybe, these pesky feelings I’ve been having for Miles will finally start to go away.
After the sound of Duffy’s sneezing disappears, I head out onto the street in the direction of my apartment and realize I’m starving. I duck into a little café with street seating, admiring the casual décor, and immediately start thinking about my bakery.
I order a chicken salad sandwich—a tried-and-true favorite, because not every meal needs to be an expedition—along with a bag of chips and a Dr Pepper, then find a seat outside on the patio.
I pull my journal out of my bag, open it up, and turn to the pages where I’ve been writing down ideas for the bakery. I feel inspired and don’t want to forget what’s swirling in my head.
