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“But, now that I’ve met my goals— at least professionally— I hope it’s not too late.”
My head falls to one side. “Too late?”
“To fall in love, get married, have kids, you know… all the things.”
I reach over and draw his hand up, flipping it over and pressing two fingers to the warm pulse point on his wrist.
His eyebrows pull together. “What are you doing?”
“Checking your pulse. You make it sound like you’re on your deathbed, and I want to make sure my date is going to make it through the night.”
“Oh, I’m going to make it through the night, all right.”
I shoot him a sidelong glance and table that delicious promise for now.
“Well, now you know what you want, and that’s a gift… or so my mom says.”
“Your mom, hmm? Tell me about her.”
I press my lips together, debating what to say, how much to share. “She’s who I was talking to just now, when you came in. She’s been… sick and I take care of her.”
He’s quiet for a long minute, watching me closely. “How long? I mean, you don’t have to tell me. I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s fine, really. She’s in remission now, and feeling stronger every day, but it’s been just over three years.”
He opens his mouth and I get the sense he has another question, but in the end only says, “That’s a long time. I’m glad she’s doing better. For your sake, too.”
I can’t remember the last time someone, besides my mom, acknowledged how hard it’s been. A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down.
“Thank you, and thanks for dinner.” I close up my to-go container and clear the trash.
“Anytime.”
“I have something for you,” I tell him, remembering the little box I picked up earlier, next to the register when I grabbed my Diet Coke from the gift shop.
“Do you now?” His pleasantly surprised tone makes me smile.
“Yup.” I grab the box of conversation hearts from my bag and toss it to him.
He catches it in both hands and his face breaks into a wide grin. Damn. He is one handsome man, especially when he smiles like that.
He pops open the box and pours a few hearts into his palm. Searching through them, he selects a blue one and hands it to me. “This one’s for you.”
“BEST DAY EVER,” I say, reading the heart and meeting his eyes.
“And it’s not over yet.”
“What else did you have in mind?”
“Well, I thought I’d help you finish up here.”
“And then?”
“And then,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a plastic room key card that reads The Plaza, New York, with the familiar gold logo stamped on it, “I thought you might like to spend the night.”
That, I would definitely like.
7
