Page 123 of Between the Lines

“You didn’t turn the radio on for the drive. That makes more sense now.”

“If I listen to anything, it’s a classical station.”

I huff a laugh. “That checks out.”

He brakes at a stop sign.

“Are you sassing me, Claire?”

“Not while you’re driving,” I sass. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good girl.”

We’re sitting on the couch in the living room, eating from takeout containers with a new documentary about free diving playing in the background, when his phone rings on the coffee table. Nathan exchanges his Chinese container for his phone, stiffening when he sees who is calling.

“I’m sorry, I have to takethis. It’s Dr. Marty.”

My heart tightens, pulse racing, eyes widening. Hegotthe results of his brother’s scan, didn’t he? I stand, but then stop myself. I’d been about to follow him, expecting him to leave the room to take the call in private, but Nathan simply slides to answer and presses the phone to his ear, leaning against the back of the couch with one arm spread over the back. He’s poised to say hello when he notices that I’m still standing, my face painted in panic.

“Hold on one second, Dr. Marty.” He reaches for my hand and tugs me into his lap, releasing my hand to cup my chin gently. “This isn’t a medical call. He’s calling to wish me a happy belated Christmas holiday.”

For the second time tonight, I deflate like a popped balloon. Then, I whack him in the chest.

“Lead with that next time!”

His eyes widen, but settle into puzzled amusement. He picks up his phone again, but before he presses it to his ear, his eyes smolder beneath his glasses.

“We’ll revisitthatlater on.”

I don’t eavesdrop, but when you’re sitting six inches from the man on the phone, it’s hard not to hear the whole conversation.No, Cal can’t make it this year,has my attention, but,Yes, I’m still planning to come to the gala next week,piques my interest the most. Especially when I can equally hear Dr. Marty on the other end of the line asking him if he’llfinally be bringing a date this year?

My chest tightens in a different way. My skin tingles. What ifIwantto be his date? What if Iwanthim to want to show me off in public? To be proud to be seen with me? It’s like he can hear the hammering of my heart as loudly as I can hear Dr. Marty offering to set him up with his granddaughter.

“That won’t be necessary, Dr. Marty. Although I’m pretty sure Nina still hasn’t forgiven me for stepping on her toes at the gala when we were in high school.”

He says this all while my veins simmer with the nameNina, calming that storm immediately as he slips his palm into mine, threads our fingers together, and squeezes.

“I’ll see you then. Please tell Ms. June that I said Merry Christmas as well. Yep. Buh-bye.”

Nathan ends the call, places his phone face down on the coffee table, and takes my other hand in his.

“When Cal was first diagnosed, and my parents saw the toll it took on families who weren’t as financially abundant as we are, they wanted to do what they could to help. They started a charity foundation, and it still lives on to this day. Dr. Marty and his wife, June, head up the annual fundraising gala. Would you like to be my date?”

The wings that had wrapped my heart when he’d held my hand for the first time tonight beat rapidly in my chest. All of the nervous wrinkles of my smile disappear.

“Does that mean I’ll get to dance with you?”

“If you can accept that I will most likely step on your toes, then yes.”

I narrow my gaze facetiously. “Like you did to Nina?”

“Ugh.” He tosses his head back. “The sass is strong in you tonight, isn’t it?”

I lift a shoulder. “Maybe I just don’t like sharing.”

Even beneath his glasses, I can see that predatory stare snap into place. Anticipation bubbles within me. But he blinks it away.

“Good. Because I don’t want to share you. Will you attend the gala with me, as my date?”

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