Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I finish my glass of wine and decide to follow my own professional advice. I can’t move forward while tethered to yesterday. This time, when I pick up my phone, it’s not Robert I text. It’s Sarah.
Meredith: Hey. I’m sorry to text you so late. But would you please call Mr. Wright first thing in the morning and give him Dr. Pendleton’s number? Tell him our schedule is too full, and we think Dr. Pendleton will be a better fit.
Sarah: But we’re not full? We’re looking for patients.
Sarah is rightly confused.
Meredith: Please just do it, Sarah.
There’s a pause before she texts again.
Sarah: Okay, boss. Consider it done.
CHAPTER 19 Now
I’m doing it. I’m really doing it.
“So, what do you do for fun?” Robert pauses, laughs out loud. “Did I really just ask that? What a first-date line. My apologies, let me try again.”
I find myself smiling at him, charmed by his ability to laugh, especially at himself.
“Okay, okay. Girl Scout cookies.” He raises a thick, dark, inquisitive brow. “First of all, yay or nay?”
I consider. I do have a sweet tooth, though I usually deny it. But this is a first date. I may be out of practice, but I know this much—I’d rather go out with someone who’s not afraid to eat a cookie now and again. And so I say, “Yes. Obviously.” I take a sip of wine—we ordered a bottle of cab to share and are both two glasses in. I don’t know if he’s drinking as fast as I am because he’s nervous, too, or if he just really likes his wine.
A waiter approaches. “Another bottle?” he asks.
Robert looks up. “Yes, please.” No hesitation. He turns a wry grin my way. “Sorry. I’m assuming. Bad habit. Is that okay?”
A flush works its way from my chest to my neck. Our first date is going… well. Well-ish. I don’t have much to compare it to.
“That sounds great.”
“Perfect.” He nods. “So. Favorite kind of Girl Scout cookie?”
I almost reply, but the way he stares at me so intently—I like it. I like him. We showed up at exactly the same time, which led to that awkward do-we-shake-hands-or-hug scenario (he went for the hug, much to my relief—shaking hands is for business as far as I’m concerned). So I don’t answer. Instead, I ask, “Why don’t you guess? Am I a Thin Mint type of woman or more of a shortbread? Or the chocolate caramel ones—what are they called?”
He screws up his face in exaggerated concentration. “Hmmm… You like red wine, so I’d say something with chocolate. But you don’t seem like the Thin Mint kind. So I’ll guess Caramel deLites?”
I almost spit out my wine. “You got it right! How did you know?”
Robert takes a long pull from his glass, looking quite pleased with himself. “Well, maybe I just have a feel for these things. Or for you.” We share a smile. “Excuse me.” He pushes back his chair. “I’ll be right back, men’s room.”
He gives me a wink and walks toward a nearby hallway. Around us, the wine bar buzzes with conversation. It’s a Friday night, and it’s busy. I watch Robert’s tall form as he strides away. He’s a catch, no denying it. A doctor. Tall and handsome, with dark hair and large mahogany eyes. I could see myself getting lost in them, someday. Well, maybe. It is a first date. My first first date.
The server delivers the wine bottle a moment later, much to my relief. I pour another glass and take a gulp. I’d hoped the alcohol would calm my nerves, and I am feeling the wine, but my nerves aren’t quite settled. I glance toward the hall, but Robert isn’t headed back yet, so I grab my phone and swipe through the news and social media. I almost go to the dating app, but that’s definitely poor form, checking it while on a date. I’m not really interested anyway, just need anything to keep myself from thinking too hard.
About the fact that I’m on a date.
About you… God, I just want to stop thinking about you.
And about him, too, of course. Is Robert attractive enough, funny enough, to distract me from both you and Gabriel? Maybe. He is funny. And just self-deprecating enough to take the edge off the MD from Georgetown.
A form draws close to the table, and I look up, smiling, expecting Robert.
But it’s not Robert.
It’s not the waiter.
It’s… holy shit.
I blink a few times.
“Gabriel? I mean—Mr. Wright?”
He stares down at me. Robert might be handsome, might have eyes I could sink into, but Gabriel’s gaze is piercing. Magnetic. And there’s something there—some note of… something. I can’t quite sort out what.
“Just Gabriel. Good to see you. What a coincidence, meeting you here.”
My mind goes blank with shock. My mouth stumbles to form words, but nothing comes out.