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hadn’t even gotten around to contemplating. (I’m sure it would have hit me eventually… at about 2 a.m.)
    Immediately, though, I dismiss the theory. “No! I mean…” I try to think about it more objectively, remembering their rare interactions with each other back then. “No,” I answer more surely. “Nick had just graduated from med school. He was working insane hours, and we never saw him.”
    “ You never saw him,” she points out, smirking and leaning forward in her chair.
    If I didn’t know better—which I don’t—I’d say she was starting to enjoy this.
    I shake my head forcefully. “No way. Anyway, that was three years ago. Even if they had been doing something behind my back—which neither of them would ever do—it wouldn’t have taken them this long to go public. That’s extra-sneaky. Like, diabolical. Nick’s not smart enough to be diabolical.”
    Still looking skeptical, she says, “I thought you said he was a doctor. You have to be smart to be a doctor.”
    “He’s a surgeon, and yes, he’s book-smart, but he’s straightforward. And not very imaginative. He doesn’t have it in him to be deceitful. Or to keep a relationship with someone like Heidi a secret for three years.”
    She finally seems to believe me, and that’s when her interest in the topic wanes. “Well, then. What can you do? I know all about selfish family members, trust me.”
    “Nick’s not selfish,” I suddenly feel beholden to state. “He’s a good guy… mostly. And you can’t help who you fall in love with, but… Yeah. I wish they would have widened their dating pool a little to try to fall in love with other, newer people.”
    Her laugh is tinged with sympathy. “Yeah. Again, I’m sorry.”
    I rub my hand over my face. “No, I’m sorry. I really have heard everything you’ve said. You’re an only child, born and raised here in Green Bay, but your parents have lived out in Arizona for several years now. You work at Quimby-Rex, traveling during the week to educate sales reps about new product lines—Oh, hey… why is it that all prescription drug names sound like stripper names? Or is that just me?—You’re a University of Wisconsin alum—Go Badgers! You love the Packers. And what else?” I tap my lips, frantically searching my memory.
    “Okay, okay. Please!” She laughs. “You’ve proven you can listen while moping.”
    Fingering the edge of my frayed cloth napkin, I mumble, “Ouch. I guess I deserve that.”
    “Maybe I’ll give you a pass, since your situation is unique. And you seem like a nice guy, otherwise, like maybe I just caught you on a bad night.”
    I look away. “Oh, I probably would have done or said something even more repulsive if I’d been focused on this date. You’re… Well, you’re gorgeous. And smart. It’s a combination that usually results in my making a complete ass of myself.” Now, I chance a peek at her reaction to my confession. I can’t tell if she’s skeptical or scared.
    “Are you always this honest?” she asks, making it sound like it’s not necessarily a good thing.
    “What’s the point in lying about myself?”
    “Usually on first dates, guys try to put their best foot forward.”
    I wince. “This is my best foot.”
    She nudges my real foot under the table with hers. “So far, I’m intrigued. You’re not like other guys.”
    God, if she only knew.
    *****
    Two hours later, we’re receiving dirty looks from our server, as if now that I’ve paid the tab, she’s annoyed we’re still breathing her air. Too bad. I’m amazed at my recovery. I thought this date was going to rank in the Top 5 Worst, up there with the one during which I talked about resuscitating a newborn who had stopped breathing in the office, and I started crying. In my defense, it had just happened earlier that week, and I was still shaken up from it.
    And she didn’t have to laugh at me. After all, I didn’t make her feel bad about her thinning hair, did I? No, I