“How was it?”
“I had a lot of fun, and you were right. He’s definitely a charmer. I’m not sure if he’s flirting with me or not.”
“If you have to question it, then the answer is yes. Yes, he was.”
“Thanks for clarifying that. How are you doing with the move?”
“It’s fun, and I have all the Winchesters, except Cole, helping me. But don’t change the subject.”
“I wasn’t.” Sort of.
“You know... I bet if you wanted, Cole wouldn’t mind some action under the sheets.”
I laughed, instinctively looking around, but of course no one could hear. Only Isabelle could say that in a conversational tone.
“Isabelle...,” I muttered.
“Okay, fine. That was a stretch for you. But I just want you to be happy. How about a kiss?”
“I just met the guy.”
“Well, I know him and can assure you he’s not a serial killer. Also, he’s probably real good at it. Has tons of experience. What’s the worst that can happen? Things get awkward? He’s getting on a plane tomorrow night, and New York is big enough that you don’t have to see him again... unless you want to.”
“You had this speech prepared?”
“Nope, it all came to me just now. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. It’s time for you to move on, hun. Be happy again. You deserve it.”
“You’re not giving this a rest, huh?”
“That’s what friends are for. Start small. With a kiss.”
“Well, I’m hanging up before you come up with more ideas.”
Translation: before I told her that I was seeing him again tomorrow. I was certain she’d talk my ear off. I loved Isabelle. I knew she had my best interest at heart, but I hadn’t been intimate with a man in two years, and I wasn’t sure that could change anytime soon. Love and sex were part of a happy past that honestly seemed to belong to someone else.
But a kiss? I grinned, strolling with even more energy than before.
Oh, yeah. That definitely deserved some thought.
Chapter Three
Laney
Next morning, I had a ton of energy, even before my landlady, Giovanna, brought my morning espresso and my usual breakfast—mozzarella with tomatoes. I ate at the small round table in my living room, glancing out the window. The bougainvillea growing on one side of the facade was starting to bloom, and I could even see one of those gorgeous pink flowers from my window. I tore my gaze away with great effort, focusing on the thick Lonely Planet travel guide in my lap. I had three hours until the tour started.
My life in New York was so different from this. I left my apartment at five thirty in the morning, and by the time I was back home, I was too tired to do anything more than sleep. I was grateful that the hospital here was going easy on us overseas interns, and I made the best of my free time. Saturday was my favorite day of the week. Today I was even more excited than usual.
I took stock of my appearance before leaving. My hair was up in a ponytail, my jeans, simple white sweater, and sneakers ready for a day of exploration.
I swung a black leather backpack over my shoulder and stopped near a mini-market on the way that made sandwiches with focaccia and mozzarella. Since the tour was four hours, we might need a snack in between. I also bought water.
When I arrived at the Colosseum, Cole wasn’t there yet. My gaze fell on a bride. The groom was right next to her, and they were having their picture taken. Oh, they looked so beautiful. She was wearing a mermaid-style dress, and her hair was braided on one side. She was smiling at her husband from ear to ear. He was looking at her with pure adoration. I pressed two fingers on my sternum, sighing. Ryan, my late husband, had left this huge hole in my chest. Two years had passed since I lost him, and yet that hole was still there. As my friend—and a very good therapist—Isabelle kept telling me I had to move on. I knew that she was right, of course. I wanted to move on, but it was easier said than done.
I’d met Ryan in my first year of college, in Philly. He’d been even more of a geek than me and pretty shy. It took him four years to ask me out. When he finally did, he took me to a rerun of Star Wars, Episode III. The whole thing had bored me to tears, but I’d discovered that I liked Ryan very much. He’d made me laugh, and we’d talked until the early hours of the morning, crammed in his one-person bed in the student dorm.
We married in my fourth year of med school and had lived in an on-campus apartment. He’d been a post-grad in biochem. In my last year of med school, we’d started looking at houses. He’d enrolled in a PhD program, and we’d decided to stay in Philly. We’d had so many dreams and wanted so many kids.
We’d only been married for six months when he passed away from a heart attack. He’d been suffering from a rare heart condition that had never been diagnosed. The shock of it all had just numbed me. I barely remembered those last few months in Philly when I’d simply gone through the motions. I’d grabbed at the chance to move to New York like the lifeline it had been. I couldn’t stay in Philly or buy a house there anymore. I didn’t want anything that reminded me of the life we had, or the one we’d dreamed about having.