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“Where would you go for a great dinner date?” I ask him.
“Lola’s.”
He says it like there’s no other option.
“What’s Lola’s?”
He sighs with very non-math-teacher drama in his voice. “Have I failed you? You’ve never been to Lola’s?”
“No, unless I went once and forgot.”
“Impossible. You didn’t. You couldn’t. It’s unforgettable.”
“What kind of food is it?” I ask. Because nobody can really beat Val’s burgers and sandwiches. I don’t need to make a trip off campus for something she does so well.
“It’s whatever food Lola feels like making. You don’t even order. She just makes magic and you eat it.”
This sounds appealing. “Do they do takeout?”
“Uh, no. And I’m glad you asked me and not Lola. I think that would be incredibly offensive.” He’s not laughing, but that kind of has to be a joke, right?
“Seriously? Is she some kind of restaurant diva?”
“No, man. She’s a cook. And she likes to watch her guests enjoy her efforts. Grab a date and come with us. London and I eat there at least once a week. We could go tonight.”
“Can’t. My date is at work. I have to carry in something to her. But maybe another time.”
Nate says, “Totally. Seriously, you want this. She wants this, whoever she is. Who is she?”
I’m not ready to have this conversation with another person who might make it weird, either about the fact that I’m her physician or the fact that she was very recently a student. Nate probably taught Sage. And, just no.
“Hey, thanks for the Lola’s information. I’ll call you when we could do dinner with you and London. Have a great weekend.”
If he notices that I didn’t answer his question, he doesn’t get a chance to say anything about it before I hang up.
Sage mentioned pizza once, and it’s hard to go wrong with that. I call in an order to the pizzeria down the hill from campus and tell them I’ll be there to pick it up in half an hour.
Then I stand in front of my closet for way too long looking at my clothes. I consider texting Lana to ask for wardrobe assistance, but then I remember I’m being a tiny bit insane. I toss today’s scrubs into the hamper and pull on a Henley and jeans. I check the mirror. Fine. Good.
Oh, but I need a haircut.
Should I try to get a haircut before our Sunday date?
That might look like I’m trying too hard. And I would probably have to try too hard if I was going to get an appointment for tomorrow.
Okay. It’s fine.
I tie up my boots at the door and jog down the stairs and out to the car. One thing about living above the office, I kind of miss driving. Not commuting, just driving around. I should find an excuse to take Sage for a drive.
I try to ignore the thought that she won’t be all that impressed with my car. Because who cares? But since the thought showed up, apparently I care, at least a little.
The kid at the pizza counter asks my name and pulls a box out of the heater rack. He opens the lid to show me the pie, as if I have to inspect it. I tell him it looks great and hand him my card.
Driving back up the hill to campus, I inhale the delicious pizza scents and imagine sitting in a back room of Chamberlain’s huge library with Sage, watching her enjoy this meal. If it’s weird to love watching someone eat, then I guess I’m just weird. I think I’d enjoy watching her enjoy all the things.
I pull into my parking space and grab the pizza box. As soon as I round the building, I see a group of kids shuffling toward the clinic.
No. Not now. I mutter something unprofessional under my breath, because it doesn’t take long to realize that two of the kids are supporting the one in the middle.
