"It didn't seem very dead last night. At least not for her." I go to him, taking a hand towel from the counter, and dry as he washes. It's so domestic and feels so right.
"That may be true, but it's definitely over for me." His voice is hard when he says that.
"What about you?" he asks as we take our coffee to the backyard to enjoy the sun. "Anyone serious? Besides me, of course." He grins, and I melt a little.
"I had a boyfriend in college," I say. "It didn't go very far. I broke up with him before it could. Since then I've kept it casual. Tate and I knew we were meant for a life elsewhere. Out of Ohio. And even in college and grad school, I knew I wouldn't stay in those areas after graduation, and I didn't want the hassle of falling in love and having to negotiate where we would live. We knew we'd come to Las Vegas, as unorthodox as that choice was. Staying single made all of that easier."
He nods as if he understands, but I wonder if he really does. Men have long believed they could do anything, be anything, live anywhere, whereas women are often expected to sacrifice for their families, their husbands, their children. Men have a freedom of thought, a freedom of expectation to life that women have never had. Women have to constantly negotiate—with themselves, with others—for a semblance of those choices, those inalienable rights that men take for granted.
My phone beeps, distracting me from my thoughts. I pull it out of my pocket and check it, then smile and reply. Sebastian waits patiently until I'm done. "Anyone I should be jealous of?" he asks, teasing.
"Nope, just my brother. We have a date to jog this morning, so I have to get going. Are you working today?" I stand, finishing off my coffee and setting in on the table between us.
"I'm checking on some patients later. But I'd like to see you tonight. I have an idea to aid in us getting to know each other better. To put your mind at ease. I'll text you later with instructions."
I lift an eyebrow. "Instructions?"
He grins, then kisses me. "Trust me, you'll enjoy it."
He leaves to get dressed and drive me home, and I wander his house while I wait, my mind cataloging each of his belongings and wondering how many Celene picked out. The thoughts do not make me happy.
On the drive home, I ask him about his music. "Where did you learn to play the piano?"
"My parents insisted on piano lessons once I was old enough to reach the keys. I resisted for a long time, but then fell in love with music and drove them nuts, practicing day and night. At one point, I actually considered Julliard over medical school, but I knew I couldn't give up my dream of savings lives. "
It's not the answer I expected, and my heart softens even more to this amazing man next to me. Spending time with him so far has not helped in my plan to get sick of him, I realize. It's still early, though. Surely he has more faults that will eventually tip the scale and make it easier to let go.
But as I look at him, at his strong profile and his talented hands, as I reflect on the kind of person I've seen him to be thus far, my confidence waivers, and I worry I've gotten myself into something I may not be able to get out of without breaking both of our hearts.
Chapter 17
Running
"It's fucking hot," I say as Tate and I take another hill, our feet pounding the pavement in a familiar rhythm.
"If someone had come home last night, we could have gone running earlier, when it was cooler," he teases, nudging me in the shoulder.
Running isn't my favorite thing in the world to do, but it keeps me in shape when I can't get to a pool to do laps. Thinking of pools draws my thoughts back to last night, to Sebastian and his cock and fucking him in the cool water and the feel of his hands.
Now I'm even hotter. Great.
"Looks like you and lover-boy are getting serious," Tate says, probing for more.
"I told you, it's just a summer thing. I'm still filing the annulment papers first thing Monday morning."
He snickers. "I'm sure that's true, at least the filing part. The 'just a summer thing' part? Not so much. I've never seen you like this, sis. It's not just a fling."
The light ahead of us turns red, and we stop. I bend over, breathing hard, and take a swig of my water. Sweat is dripping down my face, stinging my eyes. I wipe it away and stretch, thinking about Tate's words. "You know I'm not going to get serious with him. And you know why. Now can we please change the subject?"
He rolls his eyes but doesn't push. "Fine, what do you want to talk about?"
I'm about to bring up our schedule for the next few weeks when he stops me with a look. "Except work. Anything but work."
We start running again. "Okay, what's going on with you and the girl from the bar. What was her name?"
"Stephanie," he says. "I'm not seeing her anymore. It didn't work out."
This time I snicker. "Let me guess. It didn't work out because you slipped, and your dick fell into someone else's vagina?"
He clasps a hand over his heart dramatically. "You wound me, sister, to think so little of me."