Chapter 23
Jamie
When they bring the wine, I’m absurdly grateful for the distraction — and for something to take the edge off before my nerves completely take over.
It’s getting harder to keep my composure around him; I’m burning through every reserve I’ve got just to stop myself from saying or doing something catastrophically stupid.
I’m having dinner with the Doctor. The man I’ve obsessed over for months is sitting across from me, and my secret fantasy is unfolding in real time. He’s right there, close enough to touch, and all I can think about is how he’d look in my fucking bed.
The Doctor still isn’t completely letting go. For all his awkward sincerity, there’s a lingering hesitation in him, a carefulness he won’t quite drop. I have no idea if I’ll be able to slow down once he finally puts his foot on the accelerator.
He takes a few sips of wine, sets his glass on the table, clears his throat, and speaks again.
“I like to read,” he says, a little embarrassed. “Books.”
“You don’t say…”
“Fiction.”
“Mmm…”
“Romance novels.”
I really wasn’t expecting this.
“Don’t mess with me.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“They’re relaxing. They help you escape and stop thinking about your day or what happened. It’s like taking a gentle journey into someone else’s life, and when you reach the end and close the book, you’re left with a sense of peace and happiness, even if it’s not your own.”
I look at him, amused.
“Please don’t use it against me at the next O’Connor family dinner.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“And don’t let it get away with Evan either, or he won’t even let me sit in the same car with him anymore.”
“You don’t have to be ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed, but it’s better not to let certain people know that you’re sensitive.”
“A doctor who reads romance.”
“There, I knew it,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re messing with me already.”
“That’s not true.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Well… maybe just a little.”
“I knew I’d pay for this. Stupid me for falling for your dirty little game.”
Ah, Doctor. I’d gladly show you every dirty little game I’d like to play with you — though I’m not sure you could handle them.
He must see it in my gaze, because the Doctor only sighs and props his head on one hand, watching me.
“That was an unfortunate choice of words, wouldn’t you agree?”
I laugh.
“I feel hopeless.”
“We all feel hopeless in our own eyes. The important thing is to find someone who sees beyond that.”
“You’re very wise for someone so young.”
“Not that young.”
“How old are you? Twenty-six, twenty-seven…?”
“Twenty-eight. And you?”
“Thirty-three, almost thirty-four. Probably the oldest person you’ve ever dated.”
“Probably.”
“Also, the least interesting. And the least attractive.”
I didn’t take you for an insecure guy, Doctor.
“What makes you think that?”
“I’ve seen a few photos of you around. I know who you usually hang out with.”
“I wasn’t referring to that.”
“Hmm?”
“What makes you think you’re not attractive?”
“Oh…” The Doctor blushes. “I really… I don’t think… Was that a compliment?” he asks.
“Something like that.”
“I didn’t think you were one for compliments.”
“I am not. I made an exception to the rule.”
“Do you have many rules?”
“Some…”
“Let’s hear them; I’m curious.”
“I don’t think this is the right time to talk about it.”
“Why? I told you about my novels; now you can say something about yourself.”
“My rules are very simple,” I say, clearing my throat and watching him closely. “No more than three dates. No more than three times together. No more than three weeks.”
The Doctor opens his mouth but says nothing.
“No more than three dates before sex. No more than three times in bed, and the whole thing has to happen within three weeks,” I explain.
“I see…” he says, glancing down. “So, let’s say this is our third date, counting the other two, even if they were only quick ones. From here, either we sleep together, or we call it off, if I’m doing the math correctly.”
“The other two times don’t count. They weren’t real dates.”
“Ah, that’s very reassuring.”
“Would you have preferred to know earlier?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” he replies, disappointment threading through his voice.
“Maybe I should have told you the other night, but those are my rules. It’s not a contract; I don’t expect the other person to sign it.”
“The other person…” His tone drops again. “So… anyone.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Well, that’s what it sounds like.”
“You’re not just anyone.”
“Please. I’m not stupid.”
“You’re not. You asked me one question, and I answered. I never said I was going to act on it with you.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“Listen, I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I have no idea.”
“This is not encouraging.”
“But I know I wanted to be here with you tonight. Isn’t that enough?”
He studies me for a long moment before speaking.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out by the end of the night.”
His words land like a dare, and I have no intention of backing down.