Love And Miss Communication Part 19

"I think you're . . ." She paused, and Evie could tell she was running through her mental dictionary to find the proper word. "I think you're contemptuous of married people."

"What? I am not!"

"Sometimes you say things about Jerome, you know about him being older and having been married before. I know you've made fun of Jake for not having a traditional career. What's motivating all of that?"

"I never said those things!" Evie reb.u.t.ted indignantly. "I love Jake and Jerome."

"Listen, I'm not upset with you. If I weren't sleep-deprived I probably wouldn't even be having this conversation. But since we are, let me ask you something."

Evie looked up at Caroline with trepidation. She wanted to beg, I'm fragile. Go easy on me.

"Yes?"

"What are you so worried about? That you'll end up alone, tending to a parrot and joining the local community board so you have something on your calendar?"

If only her life were as simple as a cliche.

"No," Evie said truthfully, linking her arm through Caroline's. She rested her head on her friend's shoulder and felt just how tired she was. "In fact I'm worried I won't do that. I'm much more scared of settling."

The truth reverberated through the room, but the only audible reaction to Evie's admission was a knowing sigh from the nurse changing Tracy's bedpan.

Chapter 15.

The moment the sun came up, Evie took her leave from the hospital, kissing Tracy on the forehead and blowing a kiss to baby Henry. When Jake woke up from his new-father-induced slumber, she was extra ebullient with her good wishes.

Outside, the streets were only spa.r.s.ely filled-a homeless person here, an eager-beaver investment banker there, and a few uniformed workers closing out their night s.h.i.+fts. She recognized pangs of hunger in her belly.

The hospital where Tracy delivered was not too far from where Bette was being treated. She decided to eat breakfast at the same 1950s diner that Edward had brought her to. She left a message on the Brighton main office voicemail saying she would be out sick that day. Jamie would probably wonder where she was, maybe even think she was traumatized by his advances. What difference did it make?

She slumped into a booth by herself and studied the pictures of the food on the menu.

The waitress approached, wearing a poodle skirt and black-and-white saddle shoes. The restaurant's shtick had seemed cute when she was there with Edward, but today the sound of "Hound Dog" blaring from the jukebox was excruciating.

"What can I getcha this mornin'?"

Evie's eyes gravitated to the picture with the most food.

"I'll have the Truck Stop Special," she said. "And an egg cream."

"You sure, hon? That's two of everything. Two stacks of pancakes, two eggs, two pieces of french toast, two pieces of bacon, two pieces of-"

"You heard the woman. She wants the Truck Stop Special. Actually, make it two, please."

Evie turned around in surprise. Edward Gold was behind her booth, smiling broadly. "So you liked this place, huh?"

"Oh, um, my friend just had a baby last night at New York Hospital. I'm so hungry because I think when you're up all night you're hungrier than normal. I don't normally eat like a pig." Why was she babbling?

"I hear you. When I had the midnight-to-six s.h.i.+ft in the ER, I'd be starving by the time I was done." He gestured toward the empty seat opposite her. "Can I join you?"

"Of course!" She was ashamed she hadn't thought to offer him a seat sooner.

Edward sat down and removed his winter coat, a handsome navy Barbour parka. Underneath, he wore reddish-purple scrubs. They were short-sleeve and showed off sizable muscles. She hadn't seen him in his doctor's getup since Bette's surgery. He had Ray-Bans tucked into the V-neck of his s.h.i.+rt.

"So your friend had a baby. Mazel tov."

"Yep, in the middle of the night. A baby boy. Henry." Evie rubbed her eyes for effect, hoping to excuse her unfortunate appearance.

"Your father's name." Edward paused deliberately after saying that and looked at Evie pensively. "Is that tough for you?"

She was touched he remembered.

"It was, especially when I first heard it. But it's nice, I guess."

"All right," he said simply, and Evie sensed he didn't want to push the issue. "So what's with the Brighton lacrosse sweats.h.i.+rt? Does that mean you are coming around to your job?"

Evie flushed when she looked down. She was wearing Jamie's gigantic hoodie, which said VARSITY and had two crossed sticks on the sleeve. She took it home after the supply closet fiasco and must have grabbed it when she was getting dressed in the dark.

"Oh, this? Yeah, they give these out to the teachers. I was just wearing it as a pajama top," she answered, instantly regretting her cover story. She wanted Edward to visualize her in a lace teddy, not an oversize gym s.h.i.+rt. Especially not one belonging to the half-wit jailbait who had just pounced on her, claiming she'd led him on.

The waitress arrived with their oversize plates, sausages steaming and bacon sizzling. On a separate plate, pancakes jiggled delectably against a voluminous pile of eggs. Evie inhaled deeply as her stomach rumbled. It was the first time in a while she could remember being truly hungry.

"The Truck Stop Special was definitely the right call," Edward said, lifting a forkful of syrupy pancakes to his lips. "If I hadn't run into you, I would have ordered a low-fat m.u.f.fin. You've definitely tempted me. Again." He smiled in a way that was more seductive than friendly. Evie s.h.i.+fted self-consciously in her seat, like a hot potato had fallen into her lap. She was uncomfortable, but happily so, if such a thing was possible. She tried to convince herself the meek flirtations of a married man were harmless enough. That is if he was even flirting with her. It was hard to tell on so little sleep.

She returned the volley to him with a sweet smile and a deliberate eyebrow raise.

"Glad I could be so tempting." Their coy banter, albeit surprising, temporarily relieved her of the drama she had left behind in Tracy's hospital room.

Unexpectedly, Edward began shoveling forkfuls of eggs into his mouth. Evie thought maybe she had been misreading signals until he said, "Sorry, I just caught the time. I have to be in preop in ten minutes. Which doesn't leave me much time to ask you-"

The waitress interrupted.

"More coffee for you, sir?"

"No thanks," Edward said hurriedly.

She turned toward Evie with the pot. "Miss?"

"Yes, please." d.a.m.n it. Why did she ask for coffee? It seemed to take the waitress forever to fill Evie's cup and drag over more sugar and milk from a nearby table. When she finally sauntered off, it looked like Edward had lost his train of thought. He was staring into the distance, as though he was trying to identify someone at another table.

"You were saying," Evie started cautiously, her voice lilting upward. "You wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes, I did. Bette has bragged to me many times that you went to Yale. My niece is thinking of applying there. I was hoping maybe you could tell her about it."

"Huh?" She questioned, a look of surprise no doubt spreading across her face. What had she been expecting? This married man to ask her to meet up in the hospital bas.e.m.e.nt for illicit s.e.x amid the syringes and catheters? Whatever she thought he'd say, she was undeniably let down that his question was so platonic.

"Would you mind? Talking to my niece?"

"Um, sure. You can give her my e-mail address. Actually, wait, not e-mail. Have her call me." Evie reached for the syrup and methodically filled every indented square of her waffle-anything to avoid looking at Edward.

To her surprise, he reached out and put his hand on top of hers, the one that was grasping the handle of the syrup dispenser. Evie's hand shook a little upon contact, and syrup spilled out abundantly, drowning her plate. She emitted a reflexive laugh.

Edward spoke. "Wait. That's not at all what I wanted to ask you. I don't even have a niece. I'm an only child."

"So am I!" Evie exclaimed. She thought back to her own imaginary niece, the one she told the clerk at the computer store threw up all over her computer. But why in the world was Edward finding it necessary to invent family members for her benefit?

"I know." Edward took a deep breath. "What I wanted to ask you was, will you have dinner with me? I'd really love to take you out on a date. I've wanted to ask you out for a really long time." He exhaled. "G.o.d, it feels good to get that out. What do you say?"

Evie's jaw dropped.

"But you're married! You have a daughter. You wife doesn't let her have sweets!"

"I'm divorced, Evie. Recently divorced. But we've been separated for over two years. I figured you knew that."

"How would I know you're divorced?"

Edward chuckled. "Because everyone knows I'm divorced. It's all over the Internet. Though it's actually quite refres.h.i.+ng to find someone who doesn't know the intimate details of my personal life."

"Why is your divorce on the Internet? Are you famous or something?" Evie's mind raced to keep up with the information it was receiving.

"No, I'm not. Well, maybe in some medical circles. What am I saying? I'm not famous. But my ex-wife is. Georgina Cookman."

"Cookman's Cookies? I loved those things when I was a kid. Still do." She noticed a shadow darken Edward's face. "Oh sorry, I mean, they were terrible. Tasted like burnt rubber."

"No, it's okay. I had a hard time giving them up. They're in every vending machine at the hospital. Anyway, until four months ago, I was married to the cookie heiress herself. Trust me, there was nothing sweet about her. And I never saw her bake one thing the entire time we were together. Family recipe, my a.s.s." Evie had never seen this side of Edward before. Raw, unadulterated emotion was guiding his tongue. She liked it.

"Georgina Cookman." Evie let her name swish around in her mouth like she was savoring one of their oatmeal raisin cookies. "That woman is everywhere. I once went to a fund-raiser to restore the gardens of Versailles that she cochaired. Don't ask what I was doing there."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Please don't bring back those memories. I can't even tell you how many hours that woman devoted to saving Venice."

"But wait, I'm still confused. What was all over the Internet?"

He looked at his watch again.

"I really do have to get to surgery. Can I tell you later?"

"At least give me the short version now. How did you get together?"

"Fair enough. I met Georgina at a fund-raiser. It was when I started my fellows.h.i.+p and the chief of medicine dragged me to this lunch. Anyway, Georgie was speaking about some grant from her family's company and we made eye contact during her talk. As I was leaving to get my coat she approached me. She was beautiful. And very sophisticated."

Evie eyed her tattered lacrosse top once again. She placed her hands on her lap to hide her gnarled nails. Edward must have noticed.

"Stop it, Evie. You're stunning. I have no doubt you've noticed me staring at you many times."

She had, in fact, noticed. But she'd always told herself she was misconstruing the signals: there had to be a poppy seed in her teeth; or Edward was just the kind of guy that liked to make intense eye contact. How oblivious she must have been to the signs the last few months. And the ones she did pick up on, she couldn't give herself enough credit to accept, attributing them to a misunderstanding or the harmless overtures of a possibly bored married man. She gave him a slight nod.

"Anyway, I had been living in the library for five years during my residency, subsisting on Rice Krispies and coffee. Social plans for me meant playing cards in the doctors' lounge during my on-call hours. I had no time for dating. Then came Georgina. She hit me like a tornado.

"Things were good at first. G took care of everything-our schedule, our apartment, our finances. I had time to focus on my patients and my research. We got pregnant right away-with Olivia. After she was born, I really felt like divorce was off the table, though we both knew things were deteriorating. And I know this sounds like a terrible idea, but a part of me wanted to stay with Georgina to give Olivia a sibling. I still want that for her. Not with Georgina though, obviously. But I hope to have more kids someday. Anyway, Georgina and I had nothing in common. All she wanted was to be photographed for the society pages. She resented my hours because I couldn't accompany her to benefits. I thought she left Olivia with the nanny too often for silly things, like Botox or hair appointments. And I'm sure I was distant too-burying myself in work to avoid confronting our problems. We finally called it quits about a year ago. Because we have a child and the amount of money involved, the divorce was a disaster. We kept it private for as long as we could. But it got out a few months ago, and the media had a field day with it."

"How so?"

"Let's see. Let's start with the headlines. 'Cookie Heiress Crumbles Her Man,' 'Cookman's Marriage Goes from Sweet to Sour,' 'Spouses Battle to Split the Cookie Jar,' 'Cookie Heiress Finds New Man to Satisfy Her Sweet Tooth.' I could go on and on. I feel the worst for Olivia. Thank G.o.d she's not old enough to go online." Evie hoped that was true. Caroline recently found five-year-old Grace on the American Girl website, browsing outfits for her Julie doll.

"When I moved out, Olivia started acting up a little. And that's when the British accent appeared mysteriously."

"Wow, that's terrible. I had no idea." Evie shocked herself when she reached across the table for his hand, which felt warm and ready to receive hers.

"And then there was the Twitter incident."

"Twitter incident?" She flashbacked to Edward's comment in the hospital that he was better on the phone than on Twitter.

"Honestly, I'm ashamed to tell you. Let's just say I found ways of being cruel to Georgina in a hundred forty characters or less. I just felt like I had to fight back. But I swear, Evie, that's not the real me. I was going through a really s.h.i.+tty time."

"Edward, it's okay. I was waiting to discover you weren't perfect." She thought back to when he said he was going to chaperone Olivia's cla.s.s trip, when his level of perfection felt almost stifling.

"Far from it." He chuckled. "But you still haven't answered my question that got this all started. Will you have dinner with me?"

"I would love to." She felt the corners of her mouth reach her ears, the widest smile she'd cracked in ages.

"That's great," he said. "I had my doubts about whether you could possibly be interested in me."

Evie furrowed her brow. She had been mesmerized by his TV-star looks, quiet confidence, and natural humor from their first conversation, and try as she did not to let it show, some of her more-than-friend affinity for him had to have surfaced. Why would he doubt she'd like him?

"I mean, I thought you might, but then you started telling me about wanting to freeze your eggs. I couldn't imagine you considered that flirting."

"Yeah, I typically wait until at least a third date to tell guys about my fertility concerns," Evie said, managing to make a joke despite her embarra.s.sment. "To be fair, I did think you were married."

"I wanted to ask you out right then and there just to shut you up, but I felt like I should do the surgery first and avoid any ethical gray areas. I was worried you'd accept a date with me just so I wasn't in a bad mood when I operated on your grandmother. In fact, I've been waiting to formally discharge Bette as my patient before asking you out. Which I am pleased to say I officially did three days ago."

He placed enough money on the table to cover both of their breakfasts, then reached for his coat and stood up to leave.

"So I'll call you later to arrange a date and time, okay?"

"I'm looking forward."

He headed toward the door but turned around suddenly.

"So before I go, can I ask you, how is it you managed to escape reading tales of my bitter divorce?" He gave her a quizzical glance.

"Oh. That." Evie giggled. "I haven't been on the Internet for, um, let me think. Five months and counting."