Page 40 of When the Smoke Clears

The following afternoon, Everleigh attended two classes and then showed me around Stanford’s gardens. I carried her backpack while she skipped ahead of me, talking nonstop and turning to walk backward a few times, facts spewing endlessly from her lips. She was an encyclopedia of information. Since I was far from a genius, it never occurred to me she was smarter than literally everyone I knew. After all, Tyler’s fiancée was smart and in medical school with Everleigh.

We meandered through the winding pathways of green spaces around the Memorial Church to a private area for reflection. A place for peaceful solitude. She pointed to the words inscribed in the circle on patterned pavers. Then she stood in the middle and whispered each word.

For the troubled may you find peace ~ For the despairing may you find hope ~ For the lonely may you find love ~ For the skeptical may you find faith

Her bright eyes found mine. “Which are you, Will? Troubled? Despairing? Lonely? Skeptical?”

“Does it matter?” I asked.

“Of course. I can’t fix you if you don’t tell me.”

“Fix me?” I grinned. “You think you can fix me?”

“I can try.”

I stared at the circle of words. “I’m lonely.”

“Then we go to IHOP.”

My gaze lifted to hers. “IHOP?”

“Yes.” She jumped out of the circle and took my hand, leading me back the way we came. “At the end of my first week of medical school, I went to IHOP with friends. I just wanted one pancake. The server told me I needed to order the short stack. I said I only wanted one. But he said one is lonely. If I wanted to find love, I needed to have at least two—one to eat and one to share. I think he was just flirting with me because he then said, ‘Unless you’re already in love.’ So I ordered the short stack.”

“And did you find someone to share with?” I asked.

“No.” She laughed. “But I haven’t given up. When I’m lonely, I go to IHOP and order the short stack. Eventually, I’ll find that special person.”

I marveled at her reasoning, her enthusiasm for something as simple as pancakes. She was effortlessly persuasive and contagiously optimistic.

“Keep your eyes peeled for owls in the eucalyptus,” she said as we passed through more gardens on the way to the parking lot.

I was too busy looking at her to care about owls in eucalyptus.

Chapter Fourteen

Shay. Mariah. Becca.

I pass up three opportunities to have meaningless sex. My excuses are lame at best.

Too tired. Past my bedtime. A friend is meeting me.

All lies.

If I say I’m thinking about a dark-haired short stack in a hot dress with no underwear, it will be the last time Shay, Mariah, or Becca offers to scratch my itch.

After a third beer, I glance at my watch. Then, I slide my phone out of my pocket to order a ride. Thirty minutes later, the chatty driver wishes me a good night as I step out of his vehicle and head to the entrance. It takes only a quick scan to find the good doctor in a booth by herself.

Earbuds in. Head leaned back. Eyes closed.

There’s a plate of half-eaten pancakes on the table beside her phone. I slide into the opposite side of the booth, and my leg brushes hers. She jumps, eyes springing open. Then she taps her phone screen, and her audiobook cover illuminates before she presses pause and removes her earbuds.

“Your mom is at my house. Why are you here? Why are you lonely?” I ask, using her fork to stab a chunk of the pancake and shove it into my mouth.

There it is. That wonder in her eyes. A triumphant grin steals across her lips. “You remembered.”

I shrug. “Lonely is IHOP.”

“Troubled?” she quizzes.