Sharon tried to remember to breathe as the hostess led them through the restaurant. It was a lovely little Italian place a short distance from Ross’s apartment—admittedly not what she had expected him to choose for their date. She had seen the building Ross lived in and the high-end minimalist style of his apartment. She had expected him to take her to someplace much more… she didn’t want to say pretentious, but, well… fancy. Someplace fancy.

This looked like the kind of restaurant that Sharon would go to with Leticia or another friend. The casual atmosphere helped somewhat to put her at ease, but she couldn’t get the tight knot in her chest to unwind itself. She was on an actual date with Ross. She had never considered that was even a possibility. In her daydreams, it had always been a question of whether she’d give into her desire to sleep with him again. She had never imagined that he would ask her out on a proper date.

At least enough time had passed that now her leg was mostly healed, so she didn’t have to hobble through the restaurant drawing looks of sympathy. Now she just limped slightly and wore an ankle brace that most people didn’t even notice. Which was good, because she had enough to worry about.

What if she scared him off during the course of the meal? What if he realized that she wasn’t as sophisticated or educated as he would expect a romantic partner to be? What if she bored him, or annoyed him, or said the wrong thing? It was so hard for her to read Ross—one minute he was warm and friendly and willing to go out of his way to take care of her. The next, he was being cool and professional. And the next, he was making out with her like he’d die if he didn’t touch her again.

But maybe this was just what she needed. This date was her chance to finally spend time with him and actually start getting to know him.

The hostess sat them at a lovely table by the window. “Enjoy your meal!”

Her tone seemed to have genuine warmth in it, which was explained by Ross’s next comment. “I used to eat here a lot before work got too overwhelming.”

“What would you recommend, then?” Sharon asked. She was burning with curiosity. She wanted to ask Ross about his work, and about what it had been like just starting out. She wanted to follow that little breadcrumb of information until it led to a trail that would take her all the way to the heart of who Ross was.

And man, if she was thinking in fairy tale metaphors, she was definitely nervous.

“The carbonara is great,” Ross said, pointing to it on the menu. “I hope you like Italian, I just realized that I didn’t ask you before I brought you here.”

“I love it.” Sharon smiled as his question brought back fond memories. “I don’t get to eat it much. I spent school breaks with Leticia’s family, so I ate a lot of Mexican food. And growing up I ate way more Hot Pockets than I should have.”

“Oh man, same here with the Hot Pockets.” Ross laughed. “My mom was always working, so I usually had to fend for myself for dinner. And later when I was in med school, I never had time to cook, so my microwave was my best friend.”

“What was it like, going through med school?” Sharon asked. “I just got a bachelor’s, I’ve never experienced anything like that.”

“It was intense,” Ross acknowledged. “We have high school students who come to visit the hospital to see if they want to be doctors. I always tell them, don’t do it unless you really want to. Even setting aside the cost, you’re going to spend the next few years not sleeping.”

“And why did you really want to?”

Sharon half-expected Ross to dodge the question. It was, after all, a very personal one, and they hadn’t even ordered dinner yet. But Ross surprised her. “My dad died when I was about five years old. He was in construction and there was an accident on-site. I grew up fascinated with surgery. Maybe it hadn’t saved my dad, but the fact that you could go inside a person’s body and fix what was wrong with them? To a kid my age, that was a powerful idea. It was a bit morbid of me, spending so much time thinking about the way that my father had died, but I didn’t think of it that way at the time. It was a way to cope with the loss.”

“I think all kids are a little morbid,” Sharon commented. She offered him a small, reassuring smile. “Once they understand death, they tend to speak more frankly about it than adults do.”

“Fair point,” Ross replied, relaxing a little. “Lisa, the woman who operated on my dad, would visit my mom all the time when I was little. She felt so bad that she couldn’t save him. It gave me so much respect for her. She saved lives every day, and she developed strong connections to people she hadn’t technically even met. It made me want to save people the way that she did. When I was in high school she moved to England with her husband, but we still talk every once in a while. She always encouraged me to go to medical school, even when my mom was scared about student loans and other school expenses.”

“I can understand that fear,” Sharon said, thinking of her rapid pulse and her sweaty palms when she had learned how much student debt she would have shouldered by the time she finished college. She had only just finished paying off those loans a year ago. “But I’m glad that you persisted.”

“So was Lisa who had the biggest influence on my career choice, with some help from my mom. I can still picture her face on my graduation day. And I know it’s stupid, but every time I help a patient through surgery, I always think of Lisa, because now I understand how she feels. I didn’t always, as a kid. It was so obvious to me that it wasn’t Lisa’s fault and that she’d done everything that she could. My mom never blamed her either. But Lisa had carried that burden on her shoulders, and now that I’m in her shoes, I get it. I want to save every patient that I come across, and when I don’t, it just… it eats at me. I can’t shake the feeling that if I was better, or faster, or something, I could have fixed things and they would still be alive.”

“Even on successful surgeries I find myself thinking, maybe if I had done this or that, recovery would be easier for them. Or maybe if we’d been a little faster, I could have prevented this side effect.

“But, it’s my job, and I love it, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. Even if my sleep schedule is completely shot because of it.”

The sincere, warm look in his eyes in addition to the words he was saying made Sharon’s heart swell. You’re a hero, she wanted to say. Also, I’d like to drag you into the bathroom and suck you off right now because apparently being into a selfless hero is a kink I have.

“You’re making me look bad,” she joked instead.

“Says the woman who’s dedicated her life to promoting a life-saving charity,” Ross countered. “What led you into that line of work?”

Sharon tried to stifle her self-conscious laughter. “Growing up, my parents didn’t have a lot. Somehow, every year, they managed to scrape some money together to donate to charity. If ever they saw some natural disaster relief fund, they’d immediately send five dollars. I didn’t understand it as a kid. We barely had any money of our own, and how could five dollars help anyway? But my parents always told me that if everyone gave five dollars, it would add up quickly. Individuals don’t have to give a lot if everyone is giving a little. And they were real believers in that idea of what goes around comes around.”

“They sound like good people.”

Sharon nodded. “They… they are. They’re complicated people. I think everyone is, of course. But most people I know grew up with one of two opinions about their parents; they were either saints or demons. It was never like that for me. Anyway, I spent a lot of school breaks with Leticia’s family. But I’ve started to rebuild my relationship with my parents the last few years. They were a huge influence in my life and I’m glad I still have them around.”

Ross nodded in thanks as their server set down their water glasses and introduced herself. When she left, he resumed the conversation. “I understand that. I miss my mom every day, but I’m glad that I had a good relationship with her. I don’t regret anything.”

“That’s wonderful. What was she like?”

Ross was more than ready to launch into a description of his mother, Evelyn, who seemed to have been an absolutely wonderful woman. From there, the meal progressed with an ease that Sharon hadn’t expected. She told him stories of her time in college, when Leticia was assigned as her roommate freshman year and subsequently ended up dragging Sharon on adventures all over town. Ross responded with tales from his medical school days, and that led to some gossip about previous coworkers. When their server returned for their dessert orders, Sharon was surprised to discover just how much time had passed.

If she was being honest, she hadn’t expected it to go so well. Now she found herself wishing the date didn’t have to end. Ross was funny and intelligent, and she just wanted to keep talking with him for hours.

Ross insisted on taking care of the bill— “This is my apology gift, remember?”—and while waiting for their server to return his card, he grew surprisingly shy. If Sharon hadn’t seen how sexually confident he was, she would have said that Ross was anxious. “Would you…” he cast his eyes down at the table. “Would you like to come back to the apartment?”

Sharon remembered the way Ross had grabbed her in the examination room and recalled the raw power she’d felt emanating from him with every insistent touch and bruising kiss. She wanted him to do that again, to grab her and pin her against the nearest surface and claim her.

But it wasn’t just raw desire she was feeling. Now she knew him better on a personal level. She understood him more than she had before their date began. They had spent hours laughing and joking together. It was like a switch had flipped in her head, and she now had permission to admit how much she still wanted him. She crossed her legs, trying to relieve some of the tingling anticipation she could feel building between them. “I—yes, I’d like that.”

Ross grinned, his eyes darkening just a bit. Sharon pressed her legs tighter together. “Then why don’t we get out of here.”