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The best thing for me is to move on, which is why I get dressed up for my date with Phillip even though I lack enthusiasm. I make an effort with my appearance, wearing a red dress and my boots and applying light makeup. I leave my hair down in natural waves. Giving myself a critical look in the mirror, I notice the dullness of my eyes and the paleness of my cheeks. The image forms a sharp contrast to the memory of my reflection in the mirror before my date with Alex, when my eyes were shining and my cheeks glowing. Discarding the mental picture, I dab red lipstick onto my lips and brush a bronzer over my cheeks. There. That looks better.
My phone pings with an incoming message just as I grab my coat. It’s from my mom.
Enjoy tonight with Phillip.
She adds three tongue-dragging emojis.
I reply with a kissing emoji and check the time. We’re meeting at a bar in Manhattan on 9th Avenue. I still have plenty of time to make it there, so I water the flowers before I go. My studio looks like a fairground with candy, bears, cards, and boxes of chocolates everywhere. I’ve handed out the gifts to my neighbors and the other nurses at the ER, but I’m running out of people.
An hour before the agreed meeting time, I lock up and take a brisk walk to the subway. The cold wind cuts through my coat. I shove my hands deep into my pockets to keep my fingers warm and keep an eye out for Dimitri, but he hasn’t been lurking in front of the ER or my apartment building for the past week. I take that as a good sign.
I arrive early at the bar and take a table in the corner. It gives me time to gather myself and mentally prepare for a date I’m not in the mood for. A waitress comes over to ask what I’d like to drink as I pull off my coat. I order a glass of red wine, which she delivers promptly.
My glass is already half-empty and my spirits fortified with liquid courage when Phillip arrives exactly on the hour. I recognize him from the photo on Facebook that my mom sent me. I study him while he searches the bar, which has quickly filled up and is now packed with people. He’s tall and willowy, sporting a tuft of blond curls. There’s something boyish about his face, and his brown eyes seem lively and curious.
He grins when he finally spots me, making his way over with a wave. There’s no immediate attraction or sparks like with Alex, but his smile is warm when he shakes my hand.
“Kate.” He sounds out of breath. “I hope I didn’t make you wait long.”
“I was early.” I wave at what’s left of the wine in my glass. “As you can see.”
The waitress comes up while he’s wrestling out of his coat. “What can I get you?”
Phillip motions at my glass. “I’ll have the same. On second thought…” He looks at me. “Shall we just get the bottle?”
“I’m not a big drinker.”
“The bottle,” he says, looking back at the waitress. Then his gaze returns to me. “We have all night to polish it off. Unless you’d prefer to go out for dinner later?”
This is progressing too fast for me. “We can just have a snack here.”
He doesn’t seem offended or put off. “Good.” He hangs his coat on the wall hook and takes a seat next to me. “Your mother has told me so much about you.”
“Oh, no.” I groan. “She must’ve been boring you.”
“Not at all.” He rubs his hands together. “I loved the stories about how you chased the boys around the neighborhood with your toy gun.”
I laugh. “I was a bit of a tomboy. I can’t believe she told you that.”
“You’re all she ever talks about.” His eyes warm a few degrees. “She obviously loves you very much.”
“Yes.” A fuzzy, happy feeling spreads through my chest. “She’s great. How about you? Did you grow up around here?”
“Vermont, actually. I moved here after I finished my studies.”
“Are your parents still there?”
“Yep. They still live in the same house I was born in. I doubt they’ll ever move.”
“Same here. It’s nice to have roots.”
The waitress arrives with a bottle of red, already corked, and pours him a glass.
“Do you like to travel?” he asks.
“I think I do, but I haven’t had the opportunity yet. I’m working long hours, and it’ll probably take me a few years to save up enough money.”
He holds my gaze with that curious light shining in his. “Where would you like to go?”
Russia jumps into my head. “I haven’t thought about it,” I say, frowning at the foreign thought threatening to ruin my date with images of another man.
