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My phone rings, and it’s my mom. My parents have been surprisingly supportive and understanding when I told them that I was leaving my job.
“How does it feel like to leave the clinic?” my mother asks.
I smile. “Good. I’m looking forward to relaxing a little. How’s Dad?”
“Your father’s fine. He’s right here waiting for me to get off the phone so that he can ask me how you are.” She chuckles, and so do I.
As soon as we finish talking and disconnect, another call comes through. It’s Fran and Martin, and they’ve put me on speakerphone.
“It’s good to hear you sounding so happy,” Fran says after we go through the how are you feeling stuff.
“Yeah, I actually am.”
I’d be lying to myself if I thought that resigning from my job is the sole reason for my happiness. A lot of it has to do with Cora. She’s helped me through a period that would have devastated me for months. It was nothing special, but just having someone get angry on my behalf and back up my beliefs on relationships was enough for me.
We talk for a few more minutes and then hang up.
At home, I carry my things in and then take a leisurely bath before getting ready for my dinner date with Cora. I’m whistling as I stroll to my car. It feels as if a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
I buzz Cora’s apartment, and her voice comes over the intercom, saying she’ll be down soon. I wait outside the building enjoying the evening breeze. She comes down a few minutes later, and a flare of attraction shoots through me as soon as I see her.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her as I lean forward to kiss her.
I love her in dresses, and this one is particularly sexy as it’s sleeveless and knee-length, showing off her shapely legs.
“Thank you,” Cora says, looking me up and down in a way that makes me feel like flinging her over my shoulder and taking her back upstairs.
“Shall we?” I offer her my arm.
She slides her hand into the crook of my arm, and we walk to my car. I open the passenger door with flair and give a slight bow.
She giggles. “I like this version of you,” she says.
“You’ll be getting a lot of it.” Joy practically seeps from every pore of my being.
“Does that have anything to do with leaving your job?” she asks as I’m driving.
“Some of it.”
She doesn’t probe and just smiles in response. It hits me anew how restful I find Cora’s company.
We get to the Italian restaurant and make our way in. We are shown to a nice table with a view of the garden.
“Dinner is on me, seeing that I’m the only one with a job,” Cora teases.
I laugh. “I’m good for now. Make that offer in a year’s time. I’ll take you up on it then.”
She stares at me dumbfounded. “You have savings to last a year?”
“More. And it’s not just savings. I’ve invested a lot over the years, and I get a nice income every month.” I’m surprised that I’m telling her all this. Financial matters are very private. Something that you only discuss with a partner.
A server comes, and we give her our orders for drinks and then food.
“This is nice,” Cora says, looking around the room. “I love going out for dinner. It makes me feel so grown-up.”
I laugh. “That from someone who has been running her own business for years.”
She smiles sheepishly.
Our sparkling water is brought to the table, and after pouring it into glasses, the server leaves. Cora takes her glass and raises it in the air.
“To the best doctor I know. May the next phase of your life be filled with happiness and fulfillment.”
“I’ll drink to that.” We clink glasses.
“How is your mom doing?” I ask Cora. She hasn’t mentioned her in weeks.
Cora shrugs. “She’s okay. Still determined to go through with her plans to open a bar with Ian. She’s driving us crazy.”
I make it a point not to interfere in people’s lives, but something has shifted between Cora and me. I feel comfortable sharing my thoughts with her.
“What are you afraid of?” I ask her.
She looks perplexed, but when she understands my question, a thoughtful expression comes over her pretty face.
“I’m afraid that she’ll lose all her life savings in the venture,” Cora says.
“You were worried even before she told you about the bar, so it can’t be that,” I tell her.
“True.” She takes a sip of her water and then swipes a pink tongue over a plump bottom lip, causing my heart to skip a beat.
She looks away, and after a moment, she looks at me. “I don’t know to be honest. I know that Adeline is worried about the embarrassment and what people will say and think, but I don’t care about that.”
