Page 67 of The Fall

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, closing his menu. “What you did for my mom, beautiful. What you are doing for your patients is amazing.”

“How would you know?”

“I got curious when you wouldn’t return my calls,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Ah, Beatrice,” I said, “she has a mouth on her.”

“I like her very much,” he said sincerely. “She’s a straight shooter.”

“That she is, and apparently, a spy for you.” Shaking my head, I continued, “You are shameless.”

“So, I talk to her once a day,” he admitted without apology. “She said you have been tireless in your efforts.”

“I just want to do more for them, Dean. I just want to change the standard practice of treatment and become a little more involved. Diet, counseling…Over all, I just want to provide better care. The first thing people do when they are diagnosed and hear the word cancer is brace themselves for death. I want to change that instinct from hopelessness to fight.”

“You have my attention. Tell me more.”

He must have sensed my excitement to share with him because a slow warm smile covered his face as I started to speak. We finished the bottle of champagne as I laid out my treatment plan, and he added his suggestions.

“You’re glowing, you know, when you talk about this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited.”

“I just know it could work. I mean, it’s nothing new. It’s simple, really, but I think it could change things for the better.”

“Well, then…get it done,” he mused, crossing his arms in front of him.

“I’m on it. Piece of cake,” I said, chuckling.

“I believe you can,” he said sincerely.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I looked around us. The feel of the restaurant was amazing. I heard Etta James singing “I’ve Been Lovin’ You Too Long” as I took in the Tiffany chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the high-backed, plush red chairs we sat in. The décor was tasteful, elegant, and romantic. Dean took a rose from a basket the hostess brought by and handed it to me. I inhaled the fragrant flower with my comment.

“I think I’m in love with this place.”

“Wait until you taste the food,” he said. “You’ll love it even more.”

“Take one of your dates here recently, hot shit?”

“I haven’t been on a date in a very long time, Dallas,” he said seriously. I nodded, dropping the subject.

Dean was on point. The food was amazing, and the sounds coming out of both of us as we tasted each other’s dishes were moans of appreciation. We kept the conversation light and laughed hysterically as we took a trip or two down memory lane. I had to force myself to finish my food instead of eyeing my date. The longer I was with him, the more certain I became of my decision, and I told him as much as he walked me back to his car an hour later.

“Take me home?” I asked as he shook his head in reply. We drove in silence as the mood changed from lighthearted to heavy.

“What is it?” I asked as I studied his beautiful face in the cabin of his sleek car.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but I think I like you more now than I did when we were younger. Even when you’re bitching me out,” he said softly. “I really like the woman you’ve become.”

“And what’s she like?”

“Are you fishing for compliments, Dallas?”

“Absolutely,” I said with a chuckle. He parked the car outside my house, then turned to face me.

“Strong, beautiful, determined, ambitious, family-oriented, hard-headed, infuriating—”

“Some of those aren’t compliments,” I said in jest.

“I guess it depends on who you’re asking.”

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