A strange sensation of fullness lodged in Andrew’s throat. He swallowed it down. “You’re right. I’m sorry to put you in this position. I should go.”
He was halfway out of his chair when Lauren’s hand grabbed his forearm. “Wait.”
Andrew lowered himself back down. She rubbed her temple with her opposite hand, and then her green eyes met his.
“We’re both already here,” she said. “I’m starving. Let’s at least have dinner. But this doesn’t mean anything, okay?”
“Understood.” He picked up his menu and offered her a small, sincere smile as a sort of peace offering.
She tentatively returned the gesture and he thought, not for the first time, how unconventional her beauty was. Her emerald-green eyes were a little too big for her face, but in a way that made it difficult to look away from them. Several other features made a fair play to steal his attention, though. The hair, for one, made her stand out like a rose among thorns. Perfectly pink lips and a delightful collection of freckles across her cheekbones. And those curves…
The server approached the table to take their drink orders, interrupting Andrew’s silent appraisal. He gestured for Lauren to go first. He had avoided alcohol since he started chemo, and his stomach hadn’t settled from his earlier anxiety about meeting Lauren, so he asked for water.
When the server left, Lauren asked, “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m great.”
“Are you sure? You had chemo yesterday.”
“I’m sure. I have this incredible pharmacist who hooked me up with the good drugs. Plus, she’s gorgeous, so there’s that.”
The flirtatious words just sort of came out of his mouth, and he regretted them immediately.
Surprisingly, though, she gifted him with a genuine smile. “That has nothing to do with drugs, or how you’re feeling.”
Might as well take it the full mile. “I beg to differ. Being with you right now makes me feel a hell of a lot better than any drug out there ever could.”
“I’m a professional. Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Bishop.”
Damn. It surprised him how much he liked hearing her address him like that. “We’ll see about that.”
Her smile lessened a fraction. “Seriously, do you have your nausea meds with you? Just in case?”
“Seriously. Can we pretend you don’t know that part about me? If we’re going to have dinner together, I want you to know me apart from my diagnosis. And I want to know you apart from your role as my pharmacist.”
“Oncology is a big part of my life,” she said. “It’s been the biggest part of my life for nearly the last two years. You can’t get to know me without it.”
“That’s okay, just tell me the stuff that doesn’t relate to me. Like the volunteer work you do at Children’s Hospital.”
Their drinks arrived and they placed their food order, and Lauren told him about the kids she spent time with every Saturday morning.
“At first I thought it would be awful. I mean, what could be sadder than kids with cancer?”
Andrew couldn’t think of anything.
“But mostly, they’re still just happy, playful kids. Usually when I’m there I hang out in the game room, where they have toys and books and video games…and if it weren’t for the IV poles and bald kids, you’d have no idea it was the oncology ward of a children’s hospital. There’s this little boy named Max who has leukemia, he’s four, and every time I see him I want to wrap him up and take him home with me. He’s the happiest, silliest, funniest kid I’ve ever met.”
“Toys and video games? Can I get my chemo over there?”
She laughed. “No. But you could volunteer if you want to. Sometimes I have a hard time getting to know the older kids. For teenagers, it’s all about being able to connect with what they’re going through. They don’t trust me enough to let me in and get to know them.”
Andrew took a drink of water. “That’s not a bad idea. What do I have to do to get involved?”
“You have to pass a background check and take some required online training. I’ll send you the info, and you can look into it.”
He would. Even though his cancer journey was just starting, the outpouring of support from his family and friends overwhelmed him. It gave him confidence that he could make it through anything that came up, no matter how dire. If he could be that support to someone else, a kid, no less, simply because life had dealt the same hand of cards? Count him in.
Plus, it would give him the chance for more time with Lauren.
He’d take all of that he could get.
Chapter Seven
By the time their meals arrived, they’d covered several standard first date topics.
But this wasn’t a first date…she hoped she’d made that clear.
Why did it still feel like one?
They had similar taste in music, both enjoying indie and folk rock. At first Andrew didn’t seem to believe she didn’t like country music, but she’d insisted not everyone from Oklahoma listened to honky-tonk.
Neither had much time to read outside of work or school, but when they did, Andrew said he chose crime thrillers by authors like John Grisham and James Patterson. Lauren admitted she preferred romance novels.
“Like the kind with half-dressed men on the cover?” Andrew asked, a wide grin on his face.
“Don’t you know you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover?”
“That’s a yes.”
She speared an asparagus stalk with her fork. “Have you traveled much?”
“A little. We took a family vacation to Hawaii when I was thirteen, and I went to London with some buddies over one spring break in college. Other than that, just places around the US. What about you?”
“If it doesn’t border Oklahoma, I haven’t been there.”
“Really? Do you enjoy travelling?”
“I love it. I’d jump at the chance to see new places.”
“Was your family not big on it?”
Lauren took a sip of wine while she considered how to answer. “My parents divorced when I was young. My mom travels a lot, but I grew up with my dad. He doesn’t drift far from home.” She set her glass down. “But when I’m finished with residency and get a job, I’ll go places.”
“I hear that. It feels impossible to do anything fun while I’m in school.”
“The end is in sight for both of us.” Lauren leaned back and regarded her companion—not her date—admiring the way his chest filled out his dress shirt and the way his jaw flexed as he chewed. Good grief, get a hold of yourself, woman. “So. Tell me three unique things about Andrew Bishop.”
Appearing surprised, Andrew said, “Like what?”
“Anything. What makes you different from the guy at the next table over? From my ex-boyfriend? From Logan?” She winked, and he grinned. “The stranger the better.”
Andrew rubbed his chin. “Wow. Uh…okay, here’s one. I hate pickles.”
“I ask you for a unique fact about yourself and you’re giving me pickles?”
“What? My sisters love them. They think it’s weird that I hate them,” he said before taking a bite of steak.
Her expression went flat. “Come on, you can do better than that. Hating pickles is no big dill.”
His face was blank for a beat before he laughed, a rich, throaty sound.
She smiled wide, unable to help herself. “That’s one of mine. I’m a master of puns.”
“Oh, I remember. Im-port-ant?” He shook his head. “What else have you got?”
“I asked you first.” She looked down and focused on cutting a piece of chicken, like she had all the time in the world.
“Okay.” He took another bite and leaned back in his chair, chewing and swallowing before he spoke again. “My favorite color is pink.”
“Is not.”
“I swear. Always has been. I know it’s not a traditional favorite color for men, but I don’t see what the big deal is. There are so many great things that are pink, like cotton candy. Shrimp scampi. A medium steak. Elvis’s Cadillac.”
“Tutus. Hair ribbons. Flowers…” Lauren teased.
“If you think you’re the first woman to make fun of me for that, guess again.”
“Well. If you like women who wear pink you’ll be sorely disappointed by me. With my hair and complexion, pink and I do not go well together.”
“Permission to flatter?” he asked.
She shook her head, despite the fact she’d love to hear what he wanted to say. “Denied.”
Andrew grunted. “Fine. I’ll save it for later.” He pointed a finger at her. “You’re up.”
“I love documentaries.”
“Seriously? Me too.”
“Yeah? Did you see that one about the guy who walked the tightrope between the New York City skyscrapers?”
“Man on Wire? Loved it. Right now I’m watching one about the top chefs around the world—”
“Chef’s Table?”
“That’s it.”
“I’m on episode six. I can’t stop. I watched both seasons of Making a Murderer in a single weekend.”
Andrew put his hands flat on the table. “Marry me.”
Lauren froze for a split second, then burst out laughing. He grinned at her, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember that this was supposed to be a friendly dinner. “Okay, last one. You’ve got one more chance to impress me.”
Andrew raised his eyes to the ceiling, and she waited patiently while he considered his options.
“This could go either way, and in most circles would be unimpressive. But I guarantee it will set me apart from Logan. And probably the guy at the next table.”
She put her fork down and placed her hands in her lap, intrigued.
“I didn’t kiss a girl until I was twenty.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she quickly tried to recover by shifting to a neutral expression. Was he joking? She raised her chin a notch and asked, “You messing with me?”
“Not at all.”
“Did you…were you kissing guys? Before that?”
Andrew coughed, his shoulders rolling forward. “No! What the hell?”
She shrugged. It was a reasonable assumption. “I just don’t understand,” she said. “I mean, look at you.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “You didn’t ask for permission to flatter me.”
“It isn’t flattery, just an objective statement of fact. By society’s standard of beauty, you’re a handsome man.”
“I don’t care about society’s standard. What about yours?”
“I like to get to know someone before I make a final decision. Personality plays a big part.”
“I’m glad I tricked you into coming to dinner with me, then.”
“Me, too,” she said quietly, hesitant to admit it. “Are you gonna explain the no kissing thing? Or just leave me to wonder? So far I’ve come up with a religious pact or cystic acne.”
“It was a combination of things, really. I guess the acne is the closest to the truth, because for most of middle and high school my choices were limited because of how I looked. I was exceptionally tall but couldn’t keep weight on, no matter what I did. Based on how much I ate, I should have weighed three hundred pounds, but instead I was so skinny my nickname was Skeletor.”
“That’s terrible.” Her eyes traveled across his chest and shoulders, and she added, “And hard to believe.”
Did his cheeks just turn pink? “I filled out.”
He most certainly had.
“I didn’t have an actual girlfriend until college, and even though I could have kissed someone at a party or something before that, I guess I never liked a girl enough. I’m kind of old-fashioned and think even something as simple as a kiss should be shared with care.”
Her shoulders went slack. “Are you for real?”
He looked down at his body in the chair and back to her face. “I think so.”
“I didn’t think men like you existed anymore.”
“Honesty compels me to tell you that I’m no saint. I made up for lost time. Even so, I stand by what I said.”
She didn’t respond because the server chose that moment to approach the table. After a small argument, Andrew relented and allowed Lauren to pay her share, and they walked outside together. Small white lights were strung between the street lights, casting a soft glow along the sidewalk.
Andrew suggested they walk around. Lauren agreed, because as much as it went against her better judgment, she didn’t want the evening to end. Andrew was fun, easy to talk to, and a good listener. If this had been an actual date, she would have counted it as the best one she’d ever had.
A small fountain stood across the street from the restaurant, and as they approached the edge, Lauren reached into her purse. She pulled out two coins and held one out to him. “Here. Make a wish.”
He took the silver coin and immediately tossed it into the water.
“What was that?” she accused, frowning. “You didn’t even think about it.”
It was cooler outside than she anticipated, and she shivered. Andrew removed his jacket to place it around her shoulders. Warmth and his clean, masculine scent enveloped her. He turned her around to face him and pulled the front together across her torso, tilting his chin down toward her upturned face. His brown eyes met hers intently as a gust of wind swept through, causing her hair to swirl around her face. He placed both hands on her temples and slid them down to her cheeks, taming the strands underneath his fingers.
Conscious thought hovered just out of reach.
“I didn’t need to think about it,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I already knew what I wanted to wish for.”
Almost as if drawn by a magnet, she put one hand against his chest, and she wasn’t certain whether it was to push him away or invite him closer. His head lowered, his eyes searching hers, probably looking for some indication of whether or not she wanted this.
Absolutely not and a thousand times yes.
Her other hand came up to join the first, and it landed right on top of his port. Her fingers traced the raised mound, and she pulled back with a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes went wide.
“I can’t do this.” She stepped back. She slipped out of his jacket and handed it to him. “I should go.”
He just looked at her, his jacket held loosely by his side, disappointment in his eyes.
Unable to think of anything else to say, she turned and darted across the empty street in the direction of the parking lot. Once she reached her car, she chanced a look around, wondering if he’d come after her.
He hadn’t. She should be relieved, but she felt a strange sense of loss. She didn’t like it, and she forced down the sensation of deep regret as she started her car and headed home.
…
An hour after she got home, she sent Andrew a text message.
Lauren: I’m sorry I left like that.
Andrew: Me too.
Lauren: I had a wonderful time tonight. It just feels wrong to get involved with you.
Andrew: Is your job the only thing holding you back?
Lauren: No. It’s also because of your situation. A new relationship is the last thing you need right now. You’re undergoing treatment for cancer, for crying out loud.
Andrew: You think I can’t handle chemo and you at the same time?
An image of Andrew appeared in her mind, standing tall over her. Large, muscular, imposing.
Lauren: I think you should focus on what’s most important.
Andrew: Can we be friends, at least?
Lauren: I’d like that.
A
ndrew: Friends with benefits?
Lauren: You’re walking a fine line, Mr. Bishop.
Andrew: Friends don’t address each other with such formality.
Lauren: Goodnight, Andrew.
…
Sunday was Lauren’s favorite day of the week. Her routine consisted of sleeping in, taking a walk around the neighborhood, and enjoying a cup of coffee at one of the shops near her house. Today was no different, and after a relaxing morning, she’d landed on her couch with her board exam study materials.
Midafternoon, her phone lit up with a text message.
Andrew: You owe me, you know.
Lauren: Hello to you, too. Owe you what?
Andrew: Another unique fact about Lauren Taylor.
Lauren: I told you three.
Andrew: No you didn’t. You gave me documentaries and puns.
She thought back to the night before. He was right.
Lauren: Okay. Let me think.
Andrew: …
Lauren: Don’t rush me
Andrew: …
Lauren: I can flip an omelet like a boss.
Andrew: You’re lucky I’ve been watching Chef’s Table all day, otherwise I might be less impressed by that. I do love a good omelet.
Lauren: They’re egg-cellent for breakfast.
Andrew: Nope.
Lauren: No?
Andrew: Nope.
Lauren: C’mon. Puns are hilarious. Try it.
Andrew: Definitely not
Lauren: You’re right, it’s not easy. Probably best you don’t strain yourself.
Lauren: Hello?
Lauren: Are you still there?
Andrew: Give a man a minute to think.
Andrew: Okay…you really want a pizza this?
Andrew: I DID IT
Andrew: Pizza = piece of
Lauren: OMG you can’t explain yourself
Andrew: I’m in the presence of pun greatness. I can’t help it if I doughnut belong here.
Lauren: You’re kiwing me
Andrew: You butter back off, friend
Lauren: Do you really wanna taco ‘bout this?
Andrew: I felt that one from my head tomatoes
Lauren: That was a good one. Lettuce celebrate.
Perfect Distraction Page 8