Page 17

Is he haunting me?

He never has before, so why now?

“My turn for questions,” I say as my salad is placed in front of me. Alex ordered the lobster. Which is fine as long as he doesn’t offer me a bite.

“Shoot,” he says.

“Why are you single?”

He smiles and takes a bite of his potato. “Medical school is a crazy time. And then I was getting established, and I guess I never made room for someone else in my life. It didn’t seem fair to start a family when I was gone a hundred hours a week.”

“That’s a lot of hours,” I agree.

“I find that most doctors are either married very young or after they’ve been through their internship. Not always, but a lot of the time.”

“Are you originally from Portland?”

“No, I grew up in Arizona. I hate the heat. The desert is not for me.”

I miss the desert. I loved the hot weather.

“How about you?” he asks.

“Yeah, I grew up here.” It’s a lie I’ve told for a long time. I don’t want anyone to try to link me back to what I came from in Vegas. Only Mildred knows the truth. “I’m honestly a pretty boring person.”

“I don’t think so.”

The conversation settles into something much lighter for the rest of our meal, and I decline dessert.

“I can pay for my dinner,” I offer, but Alex shakes his head.

“No way, I asked you out, remember?”

I want to insist that I pay for my own because I do feel guilty, and I know without a doubt that I won’t be seeing Alex again socially.

But I also don’t want to make a scene.

“Thanks.”

He signs the receipt and then escorts me outside. I glance around, but I don’t see that blond man again, and I wonder if it was all a figment of my imagination.

Maybe I’m finally going crazy from the lack of sleep, stress, and huge levels of responsibility, not to mention soul-crushing grief on the daily.

When we’re back on the road, Alex reaches over to take my hand, and I stiffen. I have to hand it to him because he reads my body language and pulls away.

I can’t deny that he’s a nice man. He’s never been pushy, simply persistent. He’s kind. He’s going to have me home by my self-imposed curfew. He hasn’t been inappropriate at all, and I’m sure he’d be great with Charlie.

But there is zero spark. There’s nothing about him that gives me butterflies or makes me want to alter my already comfortable bubble for him. I’ve been head over heels in love before, and that’s not what this is.

“I’d love to take you out again.”

I almost wince, but I manage to catch myself first, and I shift in the seat so I’m looking at his profile. He’s handsome. Chiseled jawline, muscular body, sexy smile. But . . . he’s not my husband. And is it fair to compare everyone to Carson? No. Of course not. Because no man on this earth will ever live up to him. But I can’t help it.

Maybe I’m just not ready to date again.

“I had a good time tonight,” I tell him truthfully. “The conversation was nice, you were a complete gentleman, and you even tell good jokes. But I have to be honest with you because I don’t want work to be weird, you know? I don’t want to lead you on.”

He blows out a breath and glances my way. “You don’t feel a spark.”