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“She’s perfect. She is on her last semester of school and is kicking ass. She is going for a surgical fellowship. I am so proud of her.”
“And you are still going to open your own practice?” he asked as he glanced at the drink menu.
“Yep, everything is falling into place. Three years and it will be a reality,” I said excitedly as we were greeted by our waitress.
“That’s incredible, really. You are doing it.”
“Yeah, we are,” I boasted, the ghosts of our pasts lingering in the air along with a deafening silence that kept us mute. When it became uncomfortable, I could feel his next question coming.
“So are you dating?” His beautiful, ice blue eyes drifted from his menu to meet mine, rendering me momentarily speechless. I nodded in reply.
“Anyone I know?” His question was intrusive and he recognized it as well as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Josh is a chef. One of Dallas’s best,” I announced proudly. “We’ve been dating a year. You’d like him.”
“Nice, well at least he’s not a bum,” he said with a shrug. I gave him an odd look and tilted my head at his remark. Surely, after seven years and a fiancée later this man was not jealous. “You expected me to be with a bum, Dean?”
“Dallas, I never expect anything from you. You are too unpredictable,” he remarked, looking for our waitress and gesturing for her.
“I was never unpredictable, and I was nineteen,” I said, taking a long sip of wine.
He chuckled as he watched me. “Then you were twenty. Don’t forget that I know you. I bet you are still an unbelievably cocky pain in the ass, Dallas Whitaker.”
“You knew me,” I retorted, finding that same lack of air that had tortured me a day earlier. Dean paused, and for a brief moment, I saw something in his eyes before it vanished.
“So OB, that’s an interesting field,” I added, trying to change the subject. Though we had history, I was trying my best not to reminisce. We had parted under the worst of circumstances and I definitely didn’t want to rehash that tonight. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Never a dull moment,” he said, catching my eyes briefly.
“Hmmm, well you always were passionate about the needs of women,” I paused with a smirk to watch him stiffen in his seat. “So tell me about your fiancée. What’s her name?”
“She is a cocky pain in the ass.” He chuckled as he gave the waitress our drink order. It thrilled me that he remembered and ordered my favorite wine.
“So she is just your type. What’s her name?”
“Helena,” he said quickly, re-situating the napkin on his lap. It was clear he didn’t want to discuss her.
Tough shit.
“Is she a doctor, too?”
“Yes, she is,” he answered curtly. I watched him shift his gaze to the window next to us as he stared at the people on the street passing by.
“Did you meet her at Columbia?” I questioned, taking another sip of wine.
“Dallas, what’s with the questions?”
“Just curious,” I said, sinking in my seat, an old pain in my chest moving to the surface. “So did you?”
“Yes, my first year.” My eyes snapped to his as I swallowed the lump in my throat. He didn’t miss my calculation.
“I’m just trying to get to know you again. I’m also curious about the woman who tamed the infamous Dean Martin. Definitely a first.”
“She wasn’t the first,” he whispered, almost inaudibly.
I ignored his remark with more sarcasm. “Was she aware the merchandise had been previously used by half of Texas and the eastern seaboard?”
“I wasn’t that bad,” he said, crossing his arms with
