Page 18 of Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

Sheepishly, he says, “Well, it would have felt nice to find you in my doorway every now and then.”

My frown deepens. He’s right. I’ve never really sought him out. I’ve never had that uncontrollable urge to see him. He’s always the one to come to me or to bring me treats. Why has it never occurred to me to do these things for him? This makes me feel selfish and ungrateful for his kindness even though I didn’t mean for it to be this way.

He takes a deep breath. “The only time you’ve ever asked me to do anything with you was Gasparilla. You asked if I would go to the parade with you. All the other times we’ve gotten together, it’s because I asked you.”

I did ask him to go with me to the parade, but surely, that can’t be it.

“What do you mean? We have a routine. We always go to dinner on Tuesday and Friday nights. Sometimes Sunday, too.”

“Yes, and call me crazy, but I would like to see you outside of those nights, too. Don’t you want to see me?”

“I . . .” My face flushes, and heat rushes over me. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

He shakes his head and then continues.

“Maybe that was my fault. Maybe I should have asked for more, but back to the eggshells. I don’t know what you want.”

I lean forward. “Isaac, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was making you feel bad. That was never my intent.”

“I know that, but, Sophie, I’ve also never been inside your townhouse. It’s been months. When we get to your place and I walk you to the door tonight, were you planning on inviting me in?”

I wasn’t. It didn’t even occur to me to.

“See,” he says, then runs his hand over his face.

I think about that time he invited me over for dinner. He lives in a condo downtown. It has great views of the city and the water, but he’s never invited me back. Or now I’m wondering if maybe he was waiting to see if I would ask to go back?

Part of me feels like I’ve been tested and put on trial. I can’t believe that was ever his intention, but it feels terrible knowing someone you think you’re getting close to is waiting to see if you pass or fail.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to come in with me tonight?” I ask, feeling strange as I do. An image of Jonah flashes behind my eyes. I had zero hesitation about asking him inside. In fact, I couldn’t wait to get him inside and all to myself. My stomach aches. Have I thought about being intimate with Isaac? Sure. But I wasn’t in a rush to get there. I wanted to date, get to know him, and now I’m wondering if I hesitated because something was missing.

Something I refused to look at because I was too busy trying to settle into a routine of my new life and being happy to have a friend.

Or something, because I’ve never planned on staying. Of course, he doesn’t know this, just my close friends, like Camille, but I can see how subconsciously I would have put up a wall and not allowed things to get more serious.

“Of course I do, but more than that, I wanted you to want me to come in, and up until now, you haven’t, or you would have asked.”

He’s right. I’m thirty-three. At our age, we should know what we want, and as he’s pointing out, I didn’t want him, or things would have progressed faster than they have.

More guilt.

“I thought we were dating. I haven’t dated in so long, actually really ever, and I’ve been enjoying all of our time together,” I tell him. I thought we were on the same page. I thought he was enjoying getting to know me, too, but he’s not wrong, and it has been months. Suddenly, I feel as if I have been leading him on. I didn’t think I was, but maybe.

“I guess our definitions of dating are just different,” he says sadly.

From the time I was twelve, I knew I wanted to be a doctor. I loved playing Operation and learning about the body. When I was sixteen, I ruptured my Achilles tendon during a soccer game. I’ve always loved sports, too, but soccer was mine. The rehabilitation was almost a year, and by that point, I had missed the window to be recruited by a college, but it was the surgeon who inspired me to study orthopedics.

She was amazing.

That’s right, she. In a field of predominantly men, I met her, and my life was forever changed.

Since then, I’ve done nothing but focus on my studies and get to where I am today. Yes, I dated a few guys over the years, but no one specifically for any period. A guy for me, or a husband as some would say, wasn’t the end goal. The white coat, the title of doctor, and achieving every goal I set for myself. In fact, when it comes to guys, this time with Isaac is the longest I’ve been with anyone. With schooling and training, there really wasn’t a lot of free time, not that I would have given it to myself. I had something to prove. I never questioned that I was smarter or better than the others in my class or residency pool, but competition and jealousy are a potent combination, and along with making sure everyone knew why I was there, I went out of my way not to do anything to tarnish the work that I was doing or my reputation.

And then there was also my mother’s death.

I was seventeen when she died of breast cancer. I never would have made it through to high school graduation without my father. We leaned on each other for support and comfort. We understood what each other was going through because we were both losing and then lost her. Our relationship strengthened and locked into place. After all, we were all each other had left. Together, our plan was always undergrad, medical school, residency, fellowship, and then return home.

To Minneapolis.