by B. N. Hale
The Mustang had been a gift from his parents at his graduation. Both were doctors, one in radiology, the other a surgeon. Kate had imagined a life with Jason, visiting his parents, Jason’s father stitching a cut on their child.
“How are Donna and Theo?” she asked.
“Getting a divorce,” he said.
“Really?” she asked, shocked. “They were always so happy.”
“I thought so too,” he said, his voice tight. “I found out a couple of weeks ago, but they’d been separated for months.”
Kate looked out the window at the lights of downtown Boulder, shaken. She wondered if marriage was even possible anymore, or were all relationships doomed to fail. Marta’s parents were still together, as were Ember’s. Brittney’s mother had died from breast cancer and her dad remarried.
She glanced at Jason and saw the tension in his shoulders. Drawn to his pain, she reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I do know how you feel.”
“When do you stop hoping for them to get back together?” he asked.
“I never stopped,” she said.
He shook his head as he pulled into the Olive Garden. Then he parked and turned off the car, but remained in his seat, his shoulders hunched. After several moments he looked to Kate, his expression stricken.
“My dad cheated on my mom for years.”
Kate reached over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Jason had always been strong, but now he seemed fragile, as if another blow could break him. She’d never seen him so crushed.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“I just don’t understand,” Jason said, his voice muffled through her hair.
Kate had no answers. She remembered a weekend with Donna and Theo. They’d been kind and fun, but looking back she recalled a lack of affection, of missed opportunities when they could have held hands, of glances without emotion. Abruptly Jason retreated and gestured to the restaurant, his smile forced.
“How about we skip the heavy talk and just enjoy dinner,” he said.
“I’d like that,” Kate said.
He smiled. “Me too.”
It seemed he wanted to say more but then turned away and got out of the car. Kate watched him walk around, wondering if she’d made the right choice in coming, and wishing her heart would just decide.
Chapter 3
He came around the car and opened her door, and then walked her to the restaurant. They’d eaten at the restaurant many times in their time together, but she hadn’t been back since they’d broken up.
Everything looked exactly the same. The smells were a delicious mix of olive oil, bread, and pasta. She breathed in and smiled, relishing the surge of memories, of them eating their favorite dishes, of kissing in his car, of what followed when they got back to his apartment …
She shook herself and looked at the chalkboard listing the specials. As Jason gave his name, the girl at the counter stole a look, her eyes traveling up and down Jason’s body. Kate also noticed a passing waitress staring. Jason had always drawn attention, much to her amusement and consternation, but she was surprised to still feel a twinge of jealousy.
“Your table is ready,” the girl said warmly, guiding them to a booth at the window.
“Thank you,” Jason said politely, his smile causing her to turn a shade of pink.
They sat at the booth and Kate put the napkin on her leg. “You still have the same effect on girls.”
He smiled. “It’s the shirt.”
“It’s not the shirt.”
His smile faded and it looked like he wanted to say something. Then his jaw tightened and he said, “Do you know what you want to order?”
“I haven’t been here in a long time,” she said. “Of course I want my favorite.”
“Me too,” he said. “Breadsticks.”
She laughed lightly. “You always ate them all.”
“I shared,” he said indignantly, and then added. “Some.”
“You hoarded the basket until you had to ask for more,” she reminded him.
“Only once,” he said.
“Twice,” she replied.
He smiled but his reply went unvoiced when a server appeared. Apparently the new girl had been warned of Jason’s presence and her gaze lingered on him as she took their order. Jason smoothly ordered for Kate as well as himself, something he’d done through much of their relationship. This time Kate found she didn’t care for it, especially when he asked for wine for them both.
“Actually,” she hedged. “I’d rather have water.”
“Really?” Jason asked. “You used to love wine.”
“I did,” she said. “But I haven’t really been drinking since . . .” She realized she was about to say I started dating Reed but caught herself in time. “Since February,” she finished lamely.
Jason regarded her for a moment and then nodded. “Two waters, please.”
The waitress nodded and took their menus. “Anything else I can get you?” She flashed a smile that suggested she wanted to give Jason much more than dinner.
“Some bread, please,” he said.
“Coming right up,” she said, and disappeared.
When she was gone he looked across the table. “What made you stop drinking?”
“I haven’t,” she said. “I just don’t drink as often.” She also wanted a clear head tonight.
She thought of Reed and why he didn’t drink alcohol. He’d said his dad drank and she’d assumed that was the reason, but wondered if there was more to the story.
He gestured to her. “You seem different, more . . . forceful.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she said, thinking of the dates she’d orchestrated.
“I like it,” Jason said. “You were always a little quiet, but now it’s like you’ve lost what made you afraid.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” she said.
Backpedaling from her expression, he shook his head. “You just seem more confident. It’s a good look on you.”
“Nice recovery,” she said.
He feigned relief. “It’s good to see you smile again. After . . . what happened, I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about heavy topics,” she said.
“I just miss you,” he said, leaning forward to take her hand.
She pulled away but smiled to take the sting from the action. “Your flirting is a little rusty.”
He withdrew his hand but nodded. “I have all night to improve.”
The bread came and for several minutes they talked of fun memories. She marveled at how much of their relationship now blended into a blur of movies and dinners, many of which had been at that very Olive Garden.
“Do you remember when we went to see Batman v Superman?”
“How can I forget?” she asked sourly.
He grinned. “You hated it, but I liked it.”
“That’s because you were never into comics,” she said. “If you had, you would have hated the movie too.”
“Soccer didn’t give me much time,” he said with a sigh. “Although I enjoy them now. Wonder Woman was amazing.”
“Oh?”
“Can’t a guy cheer for a beautiful woman with a sword?”
She smiled. “Perhaps.”
He laughed and broke the warm breadstick in half, causing tendrils of steam to rise upward and dissipate. “How many times did you see Wonder Woman in the theatre?”
“Four,” she admitted.
“Liar.”
Kate smiled. “Seven.”
He grinned, and she recalled their first date. He’d asked how many times she’d seen a recent movie and that had been their exact exchange. It was a callback to a perfect memory, and she wondered if it was intentional.
The salad arrived and Jason rebuffed the overly warm questions by the waitress. As Kate served a portion onto her plate, she struggled with the realization that Jason had never gotten over her, his eyes still harboring the same d
evoted focus he’d had when they were dating.
At the same time intoxicating and confusing, the sense that he still loved her sent her into an emotional tailspin, and for several moments she merely dodged his questions. As they finished their salad she looked up, abruptly deciding to voice her heart.
“Why did you want to see me tonight?”
“I told you,” he said, obviously taken aback by her bold question. “I missed you.”
“We both know it’s more than that,” she said.
He put his fork down and sat back in the booth, absently picking up another breadstick. He held her gaze without flinching, but she had to resist the urge to look away. As she waited, Kate considered Reed’s words about courage, and wondered if he’d brought the attribute to the fore.
“I think you know,” he finally said.
“I don’t.”
He put the bread down. “My feelings haven’t changed,” he said. “And I still don’t understand why you ended it.”
On her first date with Reed he’d described Kate’s relationship as an old pair of sweat pants, comfortable, but who wants to spend their whole life in sweat pants? But how could she explain it to Jason?
“I did love you,” she said. “But I don’t want a future of Olive Gardens.”
“You don’t like Olive Garden now?” he asked.
“I love Olive Garden,” Kate said. “But I just want . . .” She thought of her first date with Reed. “More.”
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asked.
“No,” she said, struggling with how to explain. “Why did you want to marry me?” she asked.
“Because I loved you,” he said, his gaze adding, and still do.
She fumbled, struggling for a way to recover the conversation and regain control. “But what future did you imagine with me?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Marriage, kids, a big house.”
“And me?” she asked. “A doctor’s wife?”
“Most girls would consider that a good thing,” he said with a confident smile.
She smiled, grateful he had not been hurt by her words. He’d always had a gift with words, soothing hurt feelings as if it was as natural as breathing. It’s what had made him a good captain on his soccer team, and part of the reason he would be an excellent doctor.
“This would be easier if you were a plumber.”
He chuckled and brushed his hair back. Kate could have sworn she heard a nearby waitress suck her breath in but didn’t look to find out. Kate knew she was floundering but could not think of what to say to escape. Jason merely munched on bread, a teasing smile on his face as he waited.
“The more you talk, the more you’ll realize you made a mistake,” he said.
She frowned, her confusion flickering to anger. “What mistake would that be?”
Realizing he’d spoken a bit carelessly, he swallowed and gestured in dismissal. “We both made a mistake,” he said. “You don’t need to go full Ember on me.”
It was a joke they had shared in private before. They both knew Ember’s temper and a simple reference was usually enough to elicit a smile. But after her conversation with Ember earlier, Kate did not smile. She folded her arms and leaned back. Jason was saved as their main course arrived.
Chapter 4
“Chicken Marsala for the lady, and Chicken and Shrimp Carbonara for the gentleman.”
She put the plates on the table and offered parmesan, which Jason accepted while Kate declined. The girl stood with her hip almost touching Jason’s shoulder as she churned the grinder, but Jason didn’t spare her a look. When she left, Jason flashed a self-deprecating smile.
“I thought you liked parmesan.”
“Not today.”
Jason watched her for a moment and then chuckled. “You were a lily when I left and now you’re a lion.”
His smile was soft and apologetic, and her anger dissipated. “Sorry,” she said.
He took a bite of his pasta. “What sparked this fire? And please don’t say it was the end of our relationship.”
“Actually, it had nothing to do with you,” she said. “I met a—” She scrambled for the right word to describe Reed and settled on “—friend.”
“What’s his name?”
“How do you know it’s a he?”
“Your hesitation.”
She grunted and took a bite of her chicken. “His name is Reed. He took me on a couple of dates.”
“I thought you said you weren’t dating.”
“I’m not,” she said. “We haven’t even kissed.”
She knew she was attempting to mislead him, but told herself that she didn’t have another way to describe her relationship with Reed. If she tried to explain the truth it would just result in both of them being confused.
“And he brought this courage out?”
“Unintentionally,” she said. “His way of dating is . . . unique.”
“Because he didn’t kiss you?” He stopped eating and raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“He’s just a good friend,” she finished, hoping to end the conversation.
His eyes betrayed a trace of doubt, but he shrugged. “The change looks good on you,” he said.
“You’ve said that before,” she said.
“Really?” he asked, feigning confusion. “I was sure that was just a thought.”
“Pretending like you’re less intelligent then you are isn’t going to work this time.”
Caught, he grinned. “You were a good tutor.”
“A tutor you didn’t need.”
“What did you expect me to do?” he asked, leaning in. “You were smart and beautiful but weren’t into sports. I couldn’t play the soccer player card because you didn’t care. I had to come up with something else.”
“Failing a quiz was a nice touch,” she said.
“I still got an A in the class.”
“You got something else,” she said with a smile.
He returned it, the expression of a shared memory eliciting a flutter in her heart. He’d come to her pleading for help to improve his grade. Their tutoring sessions had quickly evolved into more, and then she’d learned he had excellent grades. Her anger hadn’t lasted long.
Jason had gone out of his way to spend time with her, and although time had made their relationship stagnate, it had not started that way. It surprised her to find a parallel between Jason and Reed. She wondered if dating Reed would produce the same result. Would he grow tired of dating the same girl?
He sipped his water. “Can I ask you a question?”
“What?” she asked.
“Have you missed me?”
“Yes.”
She answered on impulse but spoke honestly. Fifteen months without him had done little to diminish the yearning, yet now she found that yearning had mingled with desire for another. She now wanted Reed. But who did she want more? And who would she want tomorrow?
Jason seemed satisfied with her answer and did not press the issue. Instead he took another bite and smiled as he chewed. Uncertain of what she was revealing, she focused on her own dinner.
“It’s my turn to ask a question,” she said.
His mouth was full, so he used a breadstick to gesture an invitation. She used the proximity to grab the second half of the breadstick, smiling as she popped it into her mouth. He snorted in disbelief and swallowed.
“That’s the first time you’ve stolen my breadstick.”
“I should have done it sooner,” she said. “You always take the darker ones.”
He laughed and shook his head. “What’s your question?”
“Would you have dated me after we got married?”
His forehead knit together as he considered her question, and she realized it was not the question he’d anticipated. Content to wait, she took a bite of chicken, savoring the flavors she hadn’t had since their breakup. She recalled eating the same meal the week before he’d proposed. That day she’d wondered why
the food seemed to have lost its savor. Later she realized that she’d eaten the same meal so many times the flavor had faded.
“I don’t think I understand your question,” he finally said, shrugging helplessly.
“How would you date your wife?” she asked.
“You mean like go out to dinner?”
“Is that the extent of your plans?” she asked coyly.
“Some fun afterwards,” he said with a smile.
“What about when you have kids and work and life are crazy? How would you date your wife then?”
“I think most people use babysitters,” he said.
“Still dinner?” she pressed.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Would you rather go to a club?”
She shook her head and looked away. “My parents used to go on a date night every week when I was little.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“They gradually stopped, and a few years later they were divorced.”
“Kate, sometimes a marriage just doesn’t work out.” His features tightened at the reminder of his parents.
“And we would have?” Kate asked, meeting his gaze.
“I’d like to think so,” he replied. “But it would help if I knew what you wanted.”
“What if I don’t know what I want?”
“Then there’s nothing I can do.”
A car passed in the parking lot and she watched it turn onto the road. “I’m still trying to figure it out,” she said.
“Kate,” he said, drawing her gaze. He pulled out one of the darker breadsticks from the basket and handed it to her. “I can wait,” he said.
Her heart fluttered but she did not look away. He smiled and nodded at her unflinching gaze. She also noticed a trace of desire before he looked away, and it stirred a familiar desire in her belly.
“Did you really not date anyone in the last year?” she asked.
“Is that so hard to believe?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I would expect another med student to snatch you up like a piece of chocolate.”
“I do have a caramel filling,” he said, nodding.
“So no nurses?” she asked.
“A few friends,” he said. “Much like your Reed, I assume.”
