Page 28 of King

“We did and got married our last year. After graduation, he got offered a prestigious residency in orthopedic surgery at Cornell, and I was offered a highly sought-after residency at UC Irvine in obstetrics.”

“But you said you practiced family medicine.” I remember her saying that when we first met, just like I remember exactly what she was wearing and what her perfume smelled like that day.

That’s definitely sadness I see in her eyes. Maybe a touch of bitterness.

“I gave up my residency. Followed Scott to New York City and took one in family medicine instead. We then ended up here in Pittsburgh after.”

“But you wanted to be an obstetrician. And you couldn’t get a residency in New York?”

“Yes and no. Obstetrics was my dream, but it was too late for me to get into a program in New York by the time we had to make our decisions. I gave that up so Scott could pursue his dreams.”

It’s all coming together now. She married a man, gave up her dreams for him and then he betrayed her by cheating.

Any sane man would say that’s way too much baggage to bother with, between her alcoholic father and cheating ex-husband, but it doesn’t seem that Willa’s spirit has been crushed by those bad turn of events.

“Enough about me,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “What about you?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Where are you from? Do you have a big family? Girlfriend?” I’m captivated by her cheeks turning red. “Wife?”

We’re interrupted by the waitress bringing our food so I don’t get to answer her questions right away. Willa appropriately oohs and aahs over the presentation of her eggs Benedict and I have a moment of regret for not ordering it myself. But the Reuben sandwich with homemade kettle fries looks pretty damn good.

I watch as she cuts into the poached egg on top, gets a little bit of everything on her fork and puts it in her mouth.

That fucking mouth that I’m pretty sure I will dream about tonight.

She closes her eyes, chews thoughtfully and then groans with satisfaction. That throaty rumble is sexy as hell, although I know she doesn’t mean it to be.

When she pins her gaze on me, it’s wide and awestruck. “That might be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” she purrs.

Christ…

“I can’t remember,” I say cheekily and give her plate a pointed look. “Can I have a bite?”

“Absolutely,” she says without hesitation and cuts a portion for me. And then to my utter shock, she scoops it up—bread, steak, egg, goat cheese, sauce—and holds it out to me. I lean over the table and let her place the fork in my mouth.

I can’t help the groan of satisfaction that matches hers as I chew and swallow. “So good. But you asked about my family.”

Willa nods, her eyes flitting between me and the food as she cuts it up.

“Well, I’m from Minnesota. Grew up in a small town called Stillwater. My parents are amazing—Dad’s a civil engineer specializing in sustainable infrastructure projects, and Mom’s a curator and art historian at a regional art museum.”

“Very cool,” Willa drawls. “Siblings?”

“Three. Mike is the oldest and he’s a mechanical engineer. Then there’s me, followed by Jenny who’s in her second year of veterinary school, and last, the baby of the family, Lucas, who is in his senior year of high school. He’ll go into engineering like Dad and Michael.”

“That’s an accomplished family.”

“They’re the best. I wish I could say something bad about one of them, but I can’t. Wouldn’t trade them for all the money in the world.” I could go on and on, gushing about my family, but I’m acutely aware that it seems my upbringing was a hundred and eighty degrees different from Willa’s and I don’t want to call overt attention to that. So I attempt a little flirtatious humor.“But the thing you were really wondering about was whether I have a wife or girlfriend—”

Willa’s eyes flare and her jaw drops before she exclaims, “That is not what I’mreallywondering.”

I smirk, not believing that for a second. “Well, the answer is I don’t have a wife or a girlfriend.”

Lifting her chin, she gives me an overly exaggerated, dismissive look. “Good for you. Not that I was really interested in it.”

“You’re the one who asked,” I remind her.

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