“We can take my car,” he said.
Her eyes lit. And then faded. But she said, “I’d rather drive myself. Besides, I’m in the garage, not the lot outside. I’ll meet you at the Bistro in an hour.” And he was satisfied.
As she stood, Brett turned to go. But spun back long enough to watch his ex-wife’s backside all the way through the door.
A guy needed a little vicarious pleasure every once in a while. Even a satisfied and determined bachelor like himself.
* * *
ELLA DIDN’T GIVE Chloe much of an explanation when she called to say she wasn’t coming right home. Just that she’d be late and to go ahead and eat without her. Chloe had brought home food from the Stand, a casserole they were all having for dinner that night, and could easily warm Ella’s when she got home.
She’d have liked to have told Brett no, she couldn’t meet him for a glass of wine. But as much as she wanted to take care of her emotional health and avoid any nonessential contact with him, she also wanted to have this glass of wine with him.
But only to find out what he had to say. To make a solid plan for helping her brother, so that his wife and son could go back to living with him, go back home where they needed to be.
And then she was going to accept the dinner offer she’d received that afternoon from a doctor on the ward. Jason Everly, a pediatric pulmonary specialist, was gorgeous, a couple years older than she was and single.
He didn’t want children of his own. Which was a good thing since she had no intention of putting herself and her partner through several more years of fertility efforts only to risk another heartbreak. Her body’s peculiar metabolic imbalance meant that she was at high risk of another miscarriage. Not that she intended to share any of that with Jason. They were just having dinner.
Brett was seated at a high-top on the patio. The Bistro was close to the hospital, an upscale place in a lovely landscaped strip mall of equally lovely places. The patio looked out toward a row of historical homes that were now bed-and-breakfast establishments.
Feeling a bit self-conscious about her purple scrubs with pink teddy bears on them, Ella ran a hand through her recently released hair, hoping that the long curls would detract from all the pinkness, as she walked toward him.
And then she noticed that about half of the clientele was dressed like her. Clearly the place was a popular hangout with hospital staff. And there had just been a shift change.
Now slightly self-conscious for another reason, Ella glanced around to make sure that Jason wasn’t there, and was relieved when she didn’t see him. Because she didn’t want him to see her with Brett and lose interest?
Or because she didn’t want another man approaching her while she was in the company of the man she’d promised to love and cherish until death did them part?
“I ordered,” Brett said as she slid onto her stool and glanced at the bucket with a yet unopened bottle of wine on their table.
A glance at the label showed her that he hadn’t forgotten what she liked.
So Brett.
Other than his inability to open his heart, or share it with anyone, the man was pretty much perfect in every way.
“Good, I’m parched,” she told him, fiddling with her glass rather than looking at him.
Parched? Who drank wine when they were parched?
But to make good on her word, she picked up the ice water in front of her and took down half the glass.
As if on call, their waiter appeared before she’d set down her water glass and opened the wine.
Brett ordered a fresh vegetable appetizer for them to share, and the waiter excused himself.
“To good work,” Brett said, raising his glass to her.
Don’t lift your glass, a voice warned from inside her. Don’t honor the old tradition. Brett’s glass hung suspended. If she didn’t tap hers to his, she’d be rude.
And it wasn’t as if he’d toasted to their future, or their love, or even just to them, as he’d done in the past.
His glass remained in the air.
Ella lifted hers. Touched his. And felt as if they’d just kissed.
* * *