Lori stared out the Explorer window, Gray's voice filling the car as he sang along with the radio. Country today. The man had eclectic tastes and always knew all the words.
Nerves pattered double time as she wondered what she would find when they saw Magda. Couldn't he speed up?
Sometimes she wanted to shake him until he took life seriously. Other times she found his lightheartedness a welcome relief. After his mother's visit, they could both use a breather.
Time to get her head back in tune with her professional responsibilities. Magda needed a home, and Lori wasn't about to let Gray's appeal distract her from doing her best for that little girl.
Charleston came into view as they crossed the Ashley River. Hints of muggy marshland wafted in through the vents. The whole town carried the scent of humidity and history. Time-weathered steeples rose above the skyline from St. Philip's, St. Michael's, and other churches, earning Charleston its second name, the Holy City. Gray's mother had likely already booked a wedding date for them in one of those hallowed historical landmarks.
Lori tore her gaze away. A castle-like turret jutted into view from the Citadel, Gray's military college alma mater.
Sheesh, did she have to relate everything she saw to the man belting out bar tunes beside her?
All the same, she owed him an explanation. "About the cab—"
"Forget it," he said as they passed a restaurant on stilts by the Low Country's bog, the site of their second date.
"No. I won't. It just seemed … safer to meet at the hospital."
His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. "What? You can't even sit in the same car with me for a few minutes?"
"Gray?" Water lapped high along the shore. Moonlit walk. Their third date.
"Forget it."
Anger snipped her already ragged emotions. What had happened to Doctor Lighthearted? "I don't understand. It's not like we're some kind of couple. I don't have to answer to you."
"Nope. We're not, and you don't."
She couldn't resist asking, "Then why are your shorts in a knot?"
His grip slackened, and he hooked his wrist over the steering wheel. "I don't know."
Her anger deflated. She could always count on Gray's honesty. He never kept his feelings from her, and if she didn't like them, well, at least she wasn't in the dark. "You don't know?"
"Nope." He shook his head slowly. "I just know when that cab stopped in front of my door, I was so mad at you I forgot my mother was three seconds away from walking into a damned embarrassing situation."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
They passed her favorite hole-in-the-wall deli, their last date. "I hurt your feelings?"
Gray winced. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way."
"How would you put it?"
Pulling into the doctors' parking lot, he left the car running, air conditioner blasting. His face tipped to the sky, his brows meeting. Sunlight streamed over the strong planes of his lean face, his broad forehead and square jaw. Lori didn't realize she was holding her breath until her vision dotted with dizziness. Why was his answer so important?
His gaze slid to meet hers. "I understand you have to go. Just show me the courtesy of saying goodbye first this time, okay?"
Guilt pinched her breathing like a too-tight seat belt. Why hadn't she realized today echoed the past, how she'd left him, with no note, no goodbye?
How unlike her, too. She was seasoned in farewells. Why hadn't she given him something she'd perfected through countless childhood moves?
She should have known a vagabond like Gray would appreciate an appropriate goodbye as much as her gypsy parents did. People like them could turn off relationships as easily as they stamped their passports as long as farewells were exchanged.
Throat closing off, she nodded. "Okay."