Chapter 21 Predictable
CHAPTER 21: PREDICTABLE
LACEY
“ L acey, don’t make me remind you again that all your paperwork needs to be done by the end of the day,” Margaret says the minute I walk through the doors of the therapy gym.
“You got it,” I say, forcing a smile and silently groaning.
Cute Stalker: We still on to meet at 6?
Lacey: Perfect!
Shit. I look at my schedule. A miracle is going to have to happen in order for me to get through all of my patients and the pile of paperwork I have to do before I leave. I run out of the gym and head towards room 307.
“Ms. Clara, it’s Lacey.” I knock on the door and when I hear her voice I swing it open. She’s sitting in a chair, already dressed, and reading one of her books. “Happy Friday! You’re up bright and early.”
“I have a date today,” she says.
“A date?”
She sets her book down. “Eugene asked me to meet him for coffee in the dining room this morning. So I had Marie help me get ready.”
“Is that so?” I check my watch. “And what time is this coffee date happening?”
“At eight thirty, so I’m going to need you to make your therapy quick. I have places I need to be.”
“You got it.” We make our way down to the therapy gym and I help Ms. Clara through an upper body exercise routine.
“You’re getting stronger,” I say when she finishes it.
“Does that mean I’m almost done with this nonsense?”
“Not quite yet,” I laugh. “It’s not that bad, is it? At least you get to spend your mornings with me.”
“Honey, I didn’t work out in my twenties, what makes you think I want to work out in my eighties?” She eyes the clock on the wall.
“We still have ten minutes. I promise you won’t be late.” She rolls her eyes. I lead her through a few more sets of exercises. When our ten minutes are up, I help her stand, and accompany her to the dining room.
When we arrive, the air smells like a mix of coffee, syrup, and bacon. The man I met a couple of weeks ago is seated at a table for two. He smiles when he sees her.
“Alright dear, that’s enough. I can take it from here,” she says, shooing me away with her hand. I watch as she slowly makes her way across the space. When she makes it to the table, Eugene stands and pulls out her chair and places a kiss on her cheek.
The Tortured Therapists Department
Lacey: 307 and 330 are currently on a date in the dining room.
Wren: So cute. Which mumu is she wearing?
Lacey: She’s not. Woke up early and had the nurse help her get dressed. Even had on some makeup.
Gray: STOP IT! That’s precious. Maybe I’ll take 415 on a walk to get some coffee and spy!
Lacey: Do it!
Poppy: Speaking of dates… Lacey, are you excited for tonight?
Wren: Wait, you have a date? With who?
Lacey: Chris. The guy from the conference. I’m going to need a miracle to happen though to get out of here on time. Margaret is breathing down my neck about paperwork.
Wren: Yeah because you never do it on time.
Lacey: It’s the literal worst part of working here.
At the end of the day, I sit down in front of my laptop to finish my notes. I have forty-five minutes to complete them, and I told Chris I’d meet him at tonight’s food truck festival.
“Word on the street is that Ms. Clara and Mr. Eugene are actually a thing,” Gray says, sitting down next to me.
“Really, who told you that?” I ask, stopping mid note and turning to face her.
“Ms. Ethel. You know she always has all the good gossip,” Gray laughs.
“Wouldn’t it be so cute if they end up getting married?”
“Lacey! Focus. I need your paperwork done today,” Margaret shouts from her office. I roll my eyes. Gray grabs a piece of paper and in bold red letters writes: Please do not talk to me. I have no self-control . She grabs a piece of tape and sticks it on my back with a laugh.
“Very funny,” I deadpan. “You’re part of the problem.”
“Don’t worry. I’m heading out. Have fun tonight.” She pats the piece of paper and laughs as she walks away.
I spend the next half hour working on paperwork and signing off on notes. When I’m finished, I clock out and run home to get ready for my date. I’m cutting it close, but if I hurry, I can change and be close to on time.
I’m a little nervous on the drive over. This is our first official date, if you don’t count EPCOT and briefly grabbing drinks after the conference. I can’t remember the last first date I had that I was excited for, but this one feels different. Poppy being with Logan all the time has me feeling like I need to grow up and find someone too. I like Chris and so far we’ve had a lot of fun together, so for the first time in a long time I’m hopeful this could be something.
When I pull into the parking lot, it’s packed. There’s not a spot in sight and I circle the lot a few times before I finally find a car backing out. I glance down at the clock. Six ten. Shit. I climb out and click into his contact to call him.
“Hey,” Chris answers.
“Hi, I’m so sorry I’m late. I just parked. Work was crazy, but I’m here.”
“You’re fine. I’m standing near the Cajun truck. I’ll see you in a few.” We hang up and I make my way through the crowd of people. He’s standing next to a truck with a large crawfish on the side, still wearing his scrubs.
“If I had known you were going to be in your scrubs, I wouldn’t have changed out of mine,” I laugh.
He pulls me into a hug and plants a quick kiss on my cheek. “What are you hungry for?”
I glance around the lot where all the trucks are parked. Across the way is a blue and white Greek truck. “Do you like gyros?” I ask.
He nods and we walk over, joining the long line. The heat radiates off the asphalt and the air is a mix of different types of fried food and truck exhaust. “Gosh, it’s hot.”
“Yeah, starting to think you had the right idea with changing.” He looks down at his black scrubs. “So, how was your day?”
“It was good. We found out a couple of the residents are dating and they’re absolutely adorable. How was yours?”
“Fine.”
“That’s good.” There’s a lag in the conversation and I shift my weight back and forth. The line starts to move. My phone pings and I look down.
Poppy: I know you’re on your date, but do you know where the caramel sauce is?
Lacey: I finished it off yesterday.
Poppy: You traitor! What am I supposed to put on top of my ice cream?
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Oh yeah, just my roommate,” I say, putting the phone back in my bag.
Music starts to play and a few people abandon the line in front of us. After what feels like an hour we finally make it to the front. I order a gyro with fries and extra tzatziki and he orders a gyro with fruit on the side. We pay separately. Once we have our food, we move through the crowd until we find a table.
I place a few fries on top of my sandwich and take a bite.
“Is that good?” he asks.
“What the gyro? Yeah it’s delicious, you should try yours.”
“No, the fries on top?”
“So, good,” I say around a big bite. “Want some fries?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll stick to my side of fruit.”
“Suit yourself.” I search my head for something else to talk about. Tonight feels different than the other times we’ve hung out and I’m not sure what’s going on with him. “So, do you like to read?” I ask, trying to move the conversation along.
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s alright.”
“Oh, I love it. What kind of books do you like?”
“Mostly historical non-fiction. You?”
“Romance. I’m a sucker for a happily ever after.” I smile, but he scowls. “Not a fan of romance, I guess?”
“Can’t say that I am. They’re a little silly, don’t you think?”
“Silly?” I quickly try to fix my tone, but his comment annoys me and I’m offended. “What do you mean?”
He sips his water. “I don’t know. I’ve always found them to be a little out of touch and predictable. I’ve never seen the point in believing in anything other than reality.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“Interesting,” I quip.
“Oh, I don’t mean it’s bad that you read them. It’s just not a genre I enjoy.”
I take a long drink of my Coke. “So, if you like history, I bet you’re really good at trivia.”
“Oh I love a good trivia competition. My friends and I play a lot. It might sound lame, but I watch a lot of Jeopardy too.”
“My grandpa loves Jeopardy.”
“Very funny,” he chuckles.
“My roommate actually mentioned Bruno’s, a pizza place near our apartment, was doing a trivia night in a couple of weeks and a bunch of us are going. There’s a cabin up for grabs and we’re going to try to win it. You should come.”
“Really?”
“Unless that’s too fast,” I say. “My friends are cool though and it would be super laid back.”
“I don’t know, that would mean I’d be having to drive back to the city pretty late.”
“It’s a Friday, so no work the next day. You’re welcome to stay at my place with me.”
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed. I mean if you want to.” I take a bite of my food.
“I do know a lot of random history facts,” he says.
“Is it a date then?”
“It’s a date,” he agrees.
The rest of the meal continues, and we make small talk about work and being OTs. When we finish, he clears our plates and he walks me back to my car.
“Sorry, if I seem off tonight. I had a hard day at work and couldn’t shake it. I’m looking forward to trivia,” he says.
“You’re going to love my friends. None of them are big fans of romance books either.”
He laughs. “Maybe I can see you before then?”
“I’d like that.” He pulls me into his arms and I let him kiss me.
Lacey: What are your thoughts on romance novels?
Jace: I’ve never read one.
Lacey: Do you think they’re silly?
Jace: No, why would I think that?
Lacey: Because you’re a guy.
Jace: Do you like them?
Lacey: Yep, that’s all I read.
Jace: Which one is your favorite?
Lacey: When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn.
Jace: I’ll have to check it out!
Lacey: Seriously?
Jace: We’re getting to know each other again. Your favorite book seems like a good way to do that.
Lacey: Full disclosure: it’s spicy!
Jace: Even better.
Lacey: I’ll read your favorite too. What is it?
Jace: On The Road by Jack Kerouac. It’s a classic.
Lacey: Just ordered it.
Jace: I’ll let you know when I finish. Can’t wait to hear your thoughts.
Lacey: Deal!