CHAPTER FIVE
“At least this date is just for coffee,” Hayley offers as I’m getting ready to meet up with the next sucker who found my profile interesting enough to reach out to me.
“True. No chance of there being any candles on the table this time.” And since I’m wearing cute but casual clothes, as I think a coffee date warrants, there’s no chance of me ruining yet another expensive blouse.
“Hey, you got a meal out of it,” she points out, ever helpful.
“Yeah, but I couldn’t remember a single thing I ate if you held a gun to my head and demanded I tell you about it,” I grumble. “Things were so tense; I could barely chew, much less enjoy anything I was eating.”
“Maybe you can write that into a book someday,” she offers.
“I’d better or else the entire thing was for nothing more than my mortification.”
Seriously, he barely spoke another word to me. It would’ve been easier if we had ended things the way I’d figured we would, but instead, Xavier had insisted on being seated at another table with fresh linens. Like it was the principle of the thing.
“Well, maybe he was bitter because he had gone to all the trouble of making time for you and ended up with wine on his jacket because of it.” Sarcasm practically drips from her voice.
Clearly, she does not have a very high opinion of Dr. Xavier. Granted, I didn’t exactly go out of my way to paint a pretty picture.
“Lesson learned,” I announce, deciding on a snug tank top and a thin cardigan, paired with jeans and sandals. “First dates should always be casual. We can get to know each other a little bit before going out to a nice place where I might set the entire restaurant on fire while making a toast.”
“Yeah, there isn’t much damage you could do in a coffee shop,” Hayley agrees.
“Thanks for always making me feel better.” I snicker before ending the call.
I only have a few minutes to hustle to the coffee shop. I picked one just around the corner from my building, so I don’t need much time to get there.
Sean, the man I’m meeting, is a thirty-two-year-old pulmonologist. Aside from the fact that he made a joke about taking my breath away while the two of us chatted back and forth over the app, he seems like a cool guy.
And it’s not like I’ve never made a bad joke in my whole life either.
He enjoys skiing in the winter and has a time-share in Vail.
Again, sports are not my friend. I run the risk of setting myself on fire simply by going to dinner. The last thing I need is a pair of skis on my feet while I’m hurtling down the side of a mountain. But the idea of going to Vail for a long weekend and getting cozy by the fire sounds perfect to me.
First things first though. Meeting him face-to-face and getting through the first date without making a complete fool of myself.
I can spot him right away. He’s seated at a high-top table by the window, wearing blue scrubs that set off his reddish-brown curls. I wave a little as I walk past since there’s a look of recognition on his face when he sees me.
“Sean?” I ask, walking up to the table. “I’m Kitty.”
“Hi, Kitty.” He has a winning smile and an easygoing way about him, which I find incredibly appealing right off the bat.
He doesn’t have that serious I own the world attitude Xavier had.
“I just got off work and was dying for caffeine. I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for myself before you got here. ”
“Not at all—though, jeez, I feel bad for making you come out after you just finished working.”
He flashes another easy smile. “No problem. Believe me, I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to meet you in person. Can I go get you something?”
I fire off an order, just a simple latte and a blueberry muffin, and then I take a seat while he goes up to the counter.
This gives me the chance to observe him, the way he interacts with people.
That was something I should’ve taken closer note of with Xavier—how he treated people.
He was a little dismissive toward the host at the restaurant—something I didn’t pay much attention to at the time—and he was downright nasty to the server who only wanted to make sure we were okay.
I know by now that how a person treats waitstaff is a good indicator of how they’ll treat just about anybody else in their life.
In this respect, Sean scores an A+ across the board.
He’s all smiles, chatting with the girl at the register, making small talk with a woman who was already waiting for her drink.
She chuckles at something he said. By the time he drops a five-dollar bill into the tip jar, I’m very glad he decided to come out with me this morning.
There’s another thing I’ve learned: generous people are often generous in bed. Granted, it’s not like I’ve ever conducted a scientific study into this theory, but it just makes sense.
“My lady, your caffeine and muffin.” He places both on the table and then sits across from me.
“Thank you. I can definitely use the caffeine,” I tell him.
“Long night? I guess a romance writer has to be out and about, getting inspiration.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea about me,” I warn him. “Like I said in my profile, I’m usually too busy working to do much of anything else. It’s rare for me to date.”
“I was only teasing. Sorry, I guess it came off the wrong way. I don’t do much dating myself. There just doesn’t seem to be a lot of time.”
“We’re both lucky to have technology on our side, huh?” I offer.
“I’m feeling lucky right now since you mention it.” He grins, looking me up and down with an appreciative smile.
“So, you’re a pulmonologist. That’s so interesting, especially to me.”
He starts turning his cup in his hand. “Why especially to you?”
“I had pneumonia as a kid. It was pretty serious. I spent, gosh, at least three weeks in the hospital, out in Brooklyn. After that, I saw a pulmonologist regularly for a couple of years, just to be sure there wasn’t any lasting damage.”
“Yes, that makes sense. Especially with children. The lungs are still developing.” He takes a sip from his cup before clearing his throat. “So, what else do you like to do for fun? Besides dating through the site?”
Of course he doesn’t want to talk about his work while he’s out with a stranger for the first time. He just got off a shift on top of that, so I’m sure he’s doubly uninspired to discuss his career.
“You know, now that you ask, I don’t do much for fun.”
He scoffs, though I can tell he’s joking, his warm blue eyes twinkling a little. “Come on. A beautiful girl in the middle of Manhattan? You can’t tell me you don’t have fun.”
“I have to be honest. The last several years have been about nothing but work— for the most part. I spend a lot of my time writing or researching online. My schedule can be so crazy, I don’t even go shopping in person.
I have to order everything online since the stores are usually closed by the time I’m finished writing.
I pretty much feel like a troll living in a cave most of the time. ”
He laughs kindly, nodding like he understands. “There are times when I leave the hospital and I don’t remember what day it is. It doesn’t make relationships very easy.”
“See? There you go. It’s the same thing for me.
Granted, a lot of it is self-imposed on my part, but deadlines are deadlines.
And honestly, there are days when the words just won’t flow.
But I don’t know they’re not going to flow, so I’ll sit there for hours on end and force myself to write something, anything. ”
“Numerous best sellers can’t be wrong.” He winks before draining his cup. Maybe that’s why he seems a little jittery. He basically poured a large latte down his throat in record time.
The fingers of his free hand tap against the tabletop, which, frankly, is starting to get a little annoying. But I can ignore it. Everyone feels a little nervous on a first date even if it’s a totally casual thing like this.
“Yes, but my good luck seems to have run out. In fact,” - I lean in, arms crossed on the tabletop - “that’s a major reason I’ve started making it a point to date.
I figured I should get that out of the way so that you know.
Not that I’m going to put you in a book or anything, but you never know.
” I make it a point to grin just so he knows I’m joking.
“I’m lost,” he admits with a grin of his own. “What does dating have to do with your luck running out?”
“I need more life experience when it comes to dating and romance. Readers aren’t interested in your run-of-the-mill boy-meets-girl scenario anymore—at least, that’s what my editor tells me. My last book tanked, to put it mildly.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Still, he shrugs. “Though it led to you reaching out to me, so I guess I can’t be too upset. No offense.”
“None taken.”
He’s a lot of fun, I can tell. I’ve barely stopped smiling since he sat down.
Though, to be honest, I’m not feeling a spark. Maybe it’s the constant tapping of his fingers against the table or the way his other hand is still turning the empty cup around and around.
Or it could be the way his eyes keep sliding away from me, out the window.
“Are you looking for somebody?” I ask, following the direction of his gaze. I don’t know what I expect to see, but there’s nothing out there but cars and people and buildings.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m distracted. It was a long night.” He stretches, which comes as a relief since it means he can’t tap out the entire 1812 Overture on the tabletop.
“It must be so stressful,” I murmur. “I mean, all I do is write. It’s not as easy as people think it is, but it’s not the same as helping to save a person’s life. I doubt I could ever do your job.”
He chuckles at this, waving a hand. “It’s not the way you see it on TV.”
My Spidey sense is tingling, but I don’t know why. He’s stopped making eye contact. Did I say something wrong? He’s probably regretting coming out with me when he’s so tired from working all night. I’d regret it if I were in his shoes, I bet.
When his phone rings, I offer to step away for a minute.
It couldn’t have come at a better time since I’m thinking this isn’t going anywhere and I need to come up with a reason to bring an end to it.
Something about him isn’t sitting well with me, and it’s not only the fact that I don’t feel even the tiniest spark.
How’s it going? Hayley’s text is waiting for me when I duck into the ladies’ room.
Not so good. I feel like he’s uncomfortable and skittish. Maybe he has a girlfriend, and he’s worried she’ll walk past and see us.
She sends me a laughing emoji, followed by: Would you be upset if he had a girlfriend?
It doesn’t take more than a half-second’s thought to come up with an answer. No. I’m not feeling any attraction. He’s cute but more of a friend type. Not a boyfriend.
I can always rely on her for a healthy dose of perspective. And not a hot, sexy, throw-you-on-the-bed and screw-your-brains-out type? Since that’s sorta what you’re supposed to be looking for.
Right. I can’t lose sight of my goal. This makes me feel icky. I’m starting to think I’ll never get this second book written.
Don’t blame this on him or anybody else. Whether you write the book or not is completely up to you, she retorts.
Again with the perspective. It’s like being best friends with a drill sergeant.
He has to be off the phone and wondering where I am by now, so I hurry to fix a smile on my face that I don’t quite feel before leaving the restroom. Before I even see him, I can hear his tense conversation over the light, cheerful music playing over the shop’s speakers.
“I told you if you covered for me this morning, I’d cover for you this afternoon.
We had a deal,” he whisper-shouts. “No, you don’t get to change your mind.
I know it’s busy. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?
Yeah, I owe you, fine. Just get back in there before somebody notices we’re both gone. ”
It’s only then that he looks up to find me watching, arms folded, waiting for an explanation. No wonder he seemed so skittish and uncomfortable. He’s been lying about something, and I’m starting to understand what it is.
He opens his mouth to speak, but I’m too quick for him. “What do you really do for a living, Sean?” I ask, sitting across from him again. “For real this time.”
He sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s the one with the headache after all this runaround. “Nobody wants to go out with an orderly. Not a girl like you anyway.”
An orderly pretending to be a specialist. I guess I’ve seen worse.
“Who says?”
He lowers his brow. “You mean, you’d still wanna go out with me if you knew I wasn’t a pulmonologist?”
No, but not for the reason he’s thinking. I’m looking for a doctor because that’s who I’m writing about, but I’m not about to go into that with him.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is the part where you lied on your profile. What do you expect? For a girl to laugh off the way you lied from the beginning? That’s not a good way to start things off.”
“I know. I thought if I could get a foot in the door …”
“It doesn’t work that way. I’m sorry you felt like you had to lie,” I say, standing and slinging my purse over one shoulder. “Change your profile—unless you want to keep having this conversation over and over.”
“I’m sorry,” he offers with a shrug. “I really wanted you to like me.”
My heart softens, and I place a hand on his arm. “I know. And the thing is, I would have liked you just fine, though I think we’d make better friends. I’m sure there’s a girl out there who’d love to date an orderly. I mean, it really doesn’t matter in the end what you do for a living. Does it?”
He snorts. “Yeah. You keep telling yourself that when you’re looking for the next doctor to hook up with.”
Well, there goes that. I guess I don’t have the luxury of the moral high ground when, really, I’m just as much of a liar as Sean is. Not that I’d lie about my career, but I’m still a liar. I’m still using whoever I end up going out with.
At least I can use this as a scene in my book.
Which I really do need to start writing.