Chapter 18 Now

My heart stops. A date. I haven't had one since Connor and I first met. The reality terrifies me, even though I've thought about it. Of course, what did I expect? I'm on a dating app, talking to a man for hours every day. Meeting is the next logical step.

Robert and I have been messaging back and forth since I got home from the office, but I don't respond right away this time. I need wine before I can decide how to reply. So I grab the open bottle of cab from the refrigerator door and pour myself a full glass. I'm still mulling things over fifteen minutes later when my phone buzzes.

I smile sadly. He's attentive even when I'm not saying anything. I decide the best course of action is to be truthful. I've been on a roll with honesty lately, ever since Dr. Alexander's office last week.

My shoulders relax a bit. This is exactly what I like about Robert. We have so much in common. We're both doctors. Both lost our spouses in our early thirties—though it's been eight years since his wife passed, and the circumstances weren't as ominous as mine. Breast cancer.

My phone pings again.

I smile.

I chuckle and sip my wine, watching the dots jump around as he continues to type.

I smile from ear to ear. That happens often when I text with Robert.

I sip my wine for a while, sucking on my bottom lip and staring down at my phone. This man is handsome. Very handsome, even. Intelligent. Funny. We have a lot in common. I want to move on. No, I need to move on. From Connor.

From Gabriel.

So I take a deep breath and bite the bullet.

He types back almost immediately.

My heart races. Did I really just agree to a date? I believe I did.

I sit in shell shock for a while after that. I can't believe I'm going out on a date, after all these years. I thought that part of my life was behind me.

Change in life plans is a common reason people wind up in my office. I think of what I'd tell a patient who was unexpectedly single and getting ready to hurl themselves back into the world of dating. I'd try to get them to acknowledge that their life has taken a new path and accept that we can't rewind time and change things. Then I'd work with them on living in the present. That's always the hardest part. Not dwelling on the loss. Not living in the past.

I finish my glass of wine and decide to follow my own professional advice. I can't move forward while tethered to yesterday. This time, when I pick up my phone, it's not Robert I text. It's Sarah.

Sarah is rightly confused.

There's a pause before she texts again.