CHAPTER NINETEEN
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING all dressed up?” Drew asked as I let myself into his apartment a week later. It had been a surprisingly productive week, at least in terms of my writing. While the words that ended up in my manuscript were, in my opinion, complete crap, my editor would love it. It was exactly what they wanted…a weak, inexperienced heroine who had a connection to her boss the second they met each other, but a coworker with a grudge threatened to destroy both of them if they ever acted on their attraction. It wasn’t what I wanted to write, but I had a contract to think about.
“On a date,” I replied in a very matter-of-fact voice, as if it were an everyday occurrence. In truth, I didn’t know what had possessed me to agree, especially after having turned away dozens of other potential suitors over the past few weeks.
I have a work thing. I’m going out of town. I’ve taken a vow of celibacy.
“With whom?” Drew lowered his voice as he searched his refrigerator, taking out some sliced cheese.
“A guy.” I headed toward his wet bar and poured myself a glass of cabernet, the full-bodied red exactly what I needed tonight.
“No shit. Who?”
“Someone I met online.”
“So you’re still blocked?” He grabbed some bread, put a cheese slice between two pieces, then turned to the stove, igniting one of the burners and placing a fry pan on top.
“Actually, no. I mean, this book isn’t going to win me a Pulitzer, but at least I’m writing.” I sat down on one of the barstools at the peninsula and took a long sip of my wine, the smell of grilled cheese making its way to my senses. Part of me considered canceling and spending the evening with the girls and Drew.
“Then why the date?”
I avoided his eyes, toying with my wine glass. “I’d been talking to this guy for a while.” I shrugged. “I figured it was finally time to meet up.”
He narrowed his gaze. “And it has nothing to do with the falling out with your coworker?”
“Of course not. He hasn’t crossed my mind all week.” I straightened my spine. I refused to acknowledge the likelihood I’d agreed to this date because I still found myself thinking about Noah.
“Molly,” Drew said, his voice soft. “It’s okay to admit you were hurt by this guy’s rejection.”
“He didn’t reject me. All we did was kiss, and the only reason I even did that was for my book. I felt nothing,” I insisted, glaring. I didn’t know if I said that for Drew’s benefit or my own. Maybe I hoped the more I said it, the more I’d believe it.
After a heated moment, he sighed. “I’m not going to push it.”
I raised my wine glass back to my lips, practically downing the entire thing in one gulp.
“So meeting up for drinks?” he inquired.
“Dinner, actually,” I answered, wiping my mouth. “If he’s a complete bore, at least I’ll only waste an hour or so of my life.” I returned to the wet bar and poured myself another glass.
“Good thing you’re not just meeting for drinks. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be two sheets to the wind by the time you get there.”
“Just settling my nerves. Online profiles can be deceiving. This guy could be a serial killer. It’s the nice ones you have to watch out for. They could be complete psychopaths. Take Ted Bundy. He was quite the charismatic charmer, ya know.”
“Way to make me feel good about this,” he joked, flipping the sandwiches before stirring a pot of tomato soup that had begun to bubble.
“Anytime.” I gritted a fake smile at him, then took several more sips of wine, the alcohol beginning to work.
“Auntie Molly!” two small voices exclaimed. I whirled around as Alyssa and Charlotte came barreling down the hallway and wrapped their arms around my legs.
“You look so pretty!” Alyssa said, eyeing my flowing knee-length light blue dress with flutter sleeves. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with a casual dress I made appear more formal by adding pieces of well-appointed jewelry — diamond bracelet, pearl necklace, and teardrop pearl earrings.
“Thanks, Alyssa.”
“Why are you all dressed up?” Charlotte asked.
“I’m meeting a friend for dinner.”
“Who? Auntie Brook?”
I shook my head. “No. Someone you haven’t met yet. A boy.”
“What’s his name?” Alyssa pushed.
“Yeah.” Drew walked around the peninsula, carrying two plates with grilled cheese toward the dining room table. “What’s his name?”
“Paul,” I answered.
“Is he nice?” Charlotte asked, allowing Drew to help her into her booster seat. Alyssa plopped into the chair beside her, biting into her sandwich.
“Yes, he is. He takes care of kids all day.”
“He’s a teacher?” Alyssa mumbled around a mouthful of food.
“No. He’s a pediatrician.” It wasn’t a coincidence I’d decided to break my dating hiatus by agreeing to dinner with a doctor.
“What’s that?”
“You know how your daddy takes you to see someone when you’re not feeling well?” She nodded. “That’s a pediatrician. He’s a special kind of doctor for little kids.”
“Oh,” they said simultaneously.
“I don’t like the pedilician,” Charlotte said, unable to pronounce it correctly. “She sticks me with needles.”
“It’s just to keep you healthy, Char,” Drew reminded her. “Now, eat up.”
“On that note, I should probably go. Don’t want to be late for my date.” I made an exaggerated nervous face, biting my nails. Drew chuckled and I placed a kiss on his cheek. “See ya later.”
“I want a full report tomorrow!” he called after me as I started toward the front door.
“Are you sure you’ll want a full report?” I wiggled my eyebrows at him.
“On second thought, absolutely not. I’ll just take the bullet points.”
“That’s what I thought.” I blew Drew and the girls one last kiss, then closed the door behind me.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I walked down the stairs and onto the street. The thought of blowing off this date crossed my mind when I eyed the door to my building across the alley. A Saturday night spent in a pair of oversized pajama pants on my couch while watching home improvement television and gorging on ice cream sounded so appealing. But something pulled me away from the familiarity and comfort of my apartment and into a cab.
“The things I do for my art,” I murmured.
~~~~~~~~~~
“MOLLY?” A VOICE ASKED as I entered the foyer of a sushi and tapas restaurant a few blocks from Boston Common. It sounded like a strange combination, but the food was fantastic. If I was going to do the “real date” thing, I figured I could ease into it with tapas. I didn’t know if I could sit through a five-course dinner, considering the last time I had a similar plan, I’d unceremoniously left the poor sap. Tapas was a good compromise.
“Paul?”
A man with dark hair and chocolate eyes headed toward me. He was dressed in a pair of gray pants and a light blue button-down shirt. A rather large bouquet of flowers in his hand practically obscured his face. I had to fight my natural instinct to roll my eyes. I hated flowers. I never understood why women lost their shit when their significant other sent them. All you could do was watch them slowly die. I’d much rather get something useful, something that truly does say how much a man cared for me…like a vibrator. There’s no greater gift than that of a battery-powered orgasm.
“These are for you.” He handed me the flowers and I hesitantly took them, feeling like an out of place bridesmaid carrying her bouquet. I could almost hear “Canon in D” in the background. I had to fight my urge to step, pause, step, pause as I had learned to do when my sorority sister, Debra, had decided to sell her soul to the devil and get married. I’d agreed to be a bridesmaid, thinking all it entailed was a bunch of parties, including a wild bachelorette trip to Vegas. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The movies lied. I had hoped for a female version of The Hangover. All I got was a toned-down version of Steel Magnolias.
“You look beautiful,” he commented.
“Thank you.” I offered a forced smile. “The flowers are beautiful.” It was true. I just wasn’t a flowers kind of girl.
“Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Good.” There was a gleam in his eye when he winked.
Placing his hand on the small of my back, he led me past the hostess stand and into the dining area. It had a modern feel to it, the décor angular and bright. Booths lined the walls with tables in the center, most of them occupied with other patrons seeming to enjoy their food and drinks.
He pulled out a chair for me at one of the tables in the center. I offered him a smile before sitting down, then placed the flowers on the vacant chair beside me. He sat across from me, meeting my eyes before he turned his attention to the menu.
An awkward silence passed, accompanied by the stereotypical sounds of a restaurant — dull background conversation, forks hitting plates, low music. Tapping my fingers on the white table, I glanced around, trying to come up with some sort of conversation that was appropriate for a first date. I didn’t think vibrators qualified…at least not yet.
“I have to say,” I began when he continued to stare at his menu, as if he’d be quizzed on it later. “I’m actually a little relieved.”
He cocked his head. “Why’s that?”
“It’s a bit of a crapshoot, isn’t it? The online thing? You could very well be a serial killer.”
“Or worse,” he added with a smile. “A Democrat.”
I scrunched my nose. I could have been wrong, but I was fairly certain two topics should never be discussed during first dates, or ever…religion and politics.
“It’s nice to know the person matches the photo,” I continued, ignoring his comment. Now was probably not the right time to tell him I typically voted Democrat, although I was a registered Independent.
“Likewise,” he stated with a smile, just as a waitress approached.
“Can I start you off with something to drink?” She looked at me.
“I’m happy with just water,” Paul said. “How about you? Would you like an iced tea or anything like that?”
“We do have quite an extensive drink menu,” the waitress said to me, although I’d been here enough times to know their wine list by heart. “We even offer a tasting menu of several different wines.”
“That’s not necessary,” Paul interrupted. “We don’t drink.”
I raised my brows, taken aback by his bold assumption. He seemed rather confident in his statement and I wondered why he would think that to be true. More intrigued than anything, I decided to play along for the moment. I turned to the waitress. “Sparkling water, please.”
Once she left, I looked at Paul, trying to remember precisely which website I’d met him on. I’d signed up for far too many to recall with any accuracy. “Will you excuse me? I just need to go use the little girl’s room.” I flashed him a smile.
“Of course.”
I pushed back my chair and headed through the dining area, past the bar, and down a set of stairs toward the restrooms. Withdrawing my phone from my purse, I scanned my email. After several minutes, I finally found the messages between Paul and myself, which had originated from some website called Soul Mate.
It sounded innocuous enough. Nothing about it gave me any clue as to why he would assume I didn’t imbibe in the nectar of the gods…or alcohol, as it was more commonly referred to. Then I clicked on the link to the website. It wasn’t one of the more popular sites, but it did pop up when I’d conducted my initial search for online dating. It boasted a significant number of subscribers, but beyond that, I hadn’t really looked into it. As I navigated to the site’s “About” section, I instantly knew why Paul didn’t think I drank.
Soul Mate is a Mormon dating service. Find the eternal match for your soul today.
I shook my head, uncontrollable laughter consuming me. How could I have made a profile on a site like this without realizing it? I’d never even touched a Bible, let alone read one. Hell, after getting kicked out of Catholic school at the ripe age of six, my only exposure to any of those stories came in the form of seeing Jesus Christ, Superstar years ago. It came as a total surprise to me that, right before Jesus’ crucifixion, Judas didn’t come back to life accompanied by a group of backup singers with whom he belted out the title song with incredible soul. Don’t even get me started on Joseph and his coat. And a Mormon? I was going to have trouble not cracking lines from The Book of Mormon, and I wasn’t talking about the actual book, but the tongue-in-cheek musical I went to see every time it came to Boston.
Trying to settle myself, I drew in a breath and placed my phone back in my purse. If nothing else, this could make for an amusing anecdote if I were to ever write a romantic comedy.
I headed back up the stairs, hesitating as I stared between the exit of the restaurant and the dining room. It would have been so easy to walk out those doors right now. I could imagine Paul’s face if I divulged what I did for a living. As it was, he obviously hadn’t Googled me. If he had, he would have come across the columns I’d written for Metropolitan, each one containing no less than a dozen expletives.
Deciding to cut my losses and mark this date as a flop, I stepped toward the exit when the rumble of a familiar laugh made its way to my ears. My heart rate immediately picked up, a heat prickling my skin. The butterflies that had been absent for the past several weeks reappeared as I slowly turned around. My eyes fell on a tall man with dark hair and full, kissable lips sitting at a table across from a rather attractive blonde. I blinked in shock at Dr. Noah McAllister.
Flustered at my unbelievable luck, I opted for door number three…the bar. I signaled the bartender, ordered a whiskey, then proceeded to gulp it down the second it appeared in front of me, all the while doing my best to stay out of eyesight of both Paul and Noah.
I hadn’t even so much as seen Noah in the nursing home these past few weeks. Now, as I watched him interact easily with such a beautiful woman, an ache formed in my chest. What would have happened if I didn’t kiss him? Would we still be friends? Would we have kissed eventually anyway? What if I’d waited for him to initiate it? Would he still have reacted the same way?
I hated to admit it, but I actually missed spending time with him. I missed seeing his smile as he surprised me at the Common. I missed hearing him laugh at some story I told about an odd run-in on the subway. I missed sitting in complete silence and watching classic movies in a graveyard.
This was all just another reminder of why I needed to be on this date. I needed to pretend I didn’t have these feelings, pretend I never kissed Noah, pretend he didn’t mean anything to me.
Armed with a dose of liquid courage, I popped a mint into my mouth, then headed toward the dining room.
“Sorry about that,” I offered to Paul as I approached the table and sat down.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Just saw someone I knew,” I answered honestly as I raised the sparkling water to my lips. I hoped Paul hadn’t noticed my flushed skin or trembling hands. “So…” I inhaled a breath, trying to settle my nerves. “Have you always wanted to be a pediatrician?”
“Gosh, yes. I’ve always loved kids. When I decided to go to med school, I knew I wanted to focus on pediatrics. How about you? You’re a writer, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s a full-time thing?”
“It can be.”
“Have you written anything I might have heard of?”
“Nah. Just a bunch of smut and sex with not much story.” I gave him a wide smile.
He furrowed his brow, studying me, then broke into a hearty laugh. “You’re funny, Molly. After reading your profile, I had a feeling you’d have a sense of humor.”
I brought my glass back to my mouth and muttered, “You have no idea.”
We continued to make small talk, discussing how long we’d been in the city, our families, what we did for fun, although I let Paul do most of the talking. All the while, I was cognizant of Noah’s presence. I tried to shake it off, but it was impossible. I felt like I was barely paying attention to anything Paul said, like I was in an alternate universe. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to fake an interest. Just when I debated leaving, our server appeared carrying a few small plates.
“I hope you don’t mind that I took it upon myself to order a few things,” Paul explained. “You mentioned you were hungry. I’ll let you pick the next round.”
“It’s fine,” I assured him. I reached for one of the arancini balls, then spooned a bit of the marinara onto my plate to avoid the first date faux-pas of double-dipping.
“Silly me,” Paul interrupted as I was about to bite into fried risotto and cheese nirvana. “I forgot the blessing.”
“The what?” I looked up at him, the aroma of the arancini mocking me. My stomach growled, sounding like the roar of a lion. Being so close to tasting pure bliss had me on edge.
He narrowed his gaze at me, as if it were completely foreign to him that I’d want to put these delicious balls into my mouth without blessing them first. I was pretty certain they’d taste the same, blessing or not.
“Oh, of course.”
Playing along, I lowered my fork back to my plate. Rubbing my hands on my skirt, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. My aunt Gigi went to church on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. But she left her beliefs at the door, not trying to indoctrinate me or anyone else. She always said she wasn’t one to judge, but that I’d have to deal with God, or something to that end, as she pointed her finger at the sky.
If there was a God, I’d love for someone to explain His purpose for my father’s illness.
Surveying Paul, I followed his lead, folding my hands on the table in front of me. I couldn’t help but feel as if people were staring at us. I’d eaten out on countless occasions and had never, in all my twenty-nine-plus-one years, seen people pray in a restaurant, except for one time in a small town in Georgia. Then again, I couldn’t even get a margarita there on a Sunday, so I figured the patrons were praying for something a little stronger than just sweet tea.
He opened his mouth, then abruptly closed it, his eyes meeting mine. “I’m sorry. How rude of me. Would you like to say the blessing?”
Visions of the senile Aunt Bethany from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation appeared in my head. Maybe I’d lead us in a stirring rendition of the “Pledge of Allegiance”, too.
“Oh,” I began, playing it off. “I wouldn’t want to take the honor away from you.” I didn’t give a fuck whether we prayed or burned in hell. I’d gladly take that chance so I could finally have a mouth full of balls…deliciously cheesy risotto balls.
“I’d feel better if I allowed you the chance.”
Willing to do anything so I could eat, I lowered my eyes. “The devil sucks. Amen,” I said with strong determination in my voice, mimicking the preacher in Footloose. It was the only recent exposure I’d had to anyone praying.
Before Paul could respond, I stuffed a risotto ball into my mouth, my shoulders relaxing. I’d just experienced what blue balls felt like.
He cocked his head, eyeing me as he carefully cut his own arancini into four precise quadrants. “That was…interesting.”
“Thanks.” I looked away, catching a glimpse of Noah at the exact moment he reached across the table and clutched his dinner companion’s hand. I almost choked on my food.
“Are you okay?” Paul asked.
Quickly turning my attention back to him, I nodded, taking a sip of my water. I blamed the heaviness in my chest on a bit of gas building up in my esophagus from inhaling arancini balls. Noah didn’t matter anymore.
“You’re much different from most women I’ve had the pleasure of meeting through Soul Mate,” Paul remarked after we’d been through another round of tapas.
“Why’s that?”
“You eat.” He laughed. “It’s refreshing to be out with someone who will eat more than a salad.”
“I’ve been blessed with a fast metabolism,” I explained. “And, I mean, it’s no secret that everyone eats. Without food, you die, right?”
“That’s correct. There’s only so long a person can survive without adequate nutrition.”
“My point exactly.” I dipped a tortilla chip into the buffalo chicken fondue. And yes, it was just as delicious as it sounded.
“Paul?” a voice interrupted as I was in the middle of a fondue-induced moan.
I glanced up, cheese lining my lips. My face flushed when I saw Noah and his date standing by our table. The woman wore a congenial smile, her attention devoted to Paul. She didn’t notice her date staring at me.
“What a small world!” she said.
Paul stood up and kissed the blonde’s cheek. Noah and I gaped at each other with unease. Before the kiss heard around the world, or at least felt around my mouth, I could usually tell what he was thinking just by the expression on his face. Now, I was at a loss.
“Not that small of a world, Piper. You did turn me on to this place.”
“It’s the best kept secret in this area, although Noah would argue it’s the ice cream shop a few blocks from here.” She nudged Noah in the stomach. He tore his eyes from mine, looking fondly at the woman.
“Oh, so you’re Noah.” Paul held his out hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I watched the whole interaction with intrigue and confusion. Noah had never mentioned a Piper to me. Maybe I’d been wrong about everything. Maybe the reason he wanted to keep his distance from me was because he had a girlfriend, although he’d said he didn’t. Maybe I’d been living in the fantasy world of my books so long, I imagined his interest in me.
“Hi. I’m Piper.” The soft voice cut through my thoughts and I snapped my head toward her, not giving her the courtesy of standing up.
“Molly.” I loosely shook her hand before returning my attention to the food in front of us, which was growing cold. There was a special place in hell for people who interrupted one’s dinner.
“Piper and I work in the same medical complex.” Paul smiled, obviously sensing the awkward tension at the table. “She’s an OB-GYN. Actually, she’s delivered a number of my patients.”
“Do you like staring at vaginas all day?” I asked, unable to help myself. It was something I’d always wondered, but never had anyone to ask. I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.
“Being an OB is a lot more than just staring at the female reproductive organ,” she answered in an irritatingly pleasant voice.
Paul furrowed his brow at me, then looked back at Piper and Noah. Their couple name would be “Noper”. Or “Pipah”. What crappy couple names. “Noah, it’s my understanding that you’re a neurologist. You work mostly with Alzheimer’s and dementia patients?”
“That’s correct,” he replied. His eyes locked unnervingly on mine, a hint of amusement in the lines of his face.
“Well, I feel like an underachiever being surrounded by doctors,” I mumbled. I would have paid a small fortune to have a glass of wine to guzzle.
“And what is it you do?” Piper asked with a tight smile.
“Molly’s a writer,” Paul answered quickly, a nervous expression on his face as he ran his hands over his pants, smoothing the lines. I had a feeling he was worried I might say something that would paint him in a bad light. He was right.
“And that’s successful for you?”
“I just whore myself out on the street to make up for any shortfalls each month,” I answered cheerfully.
Noah shook his head, biting back a smile. It warmed my heart that I could still make him laugh.
Paul looked between Piper and me, teetering on his feet, then forced a fake chuckle. “Molly has quite the sense of humor.”
“We’ll let you get on with your evening,” Noah said, his eyes narrowed at me. “It was a pleasure to see you.”
His gaze lingering on me for a prolonged moment, he then placed his hand on Piper’s back and led her out of the restaurant. Just before he turned the corner and disappeared from view, he glanced over his shoulder, our eyes locking once more. A pit formed in my stomach at the uncertainty I saw. It was as if he were trying to tell me something. I just didn’t know what.