Page 18 of Diagnosis Attraction

“Good.”

“We should eat,” Mrs. Kramer said.

“I can get us all a glass of water,” Matt said, thinking it was a lame comment. But everything felt lame now except the intimacy of being with Elizabeth.

“And we can serve ourselves from the stove,” Mrs. Kramer added.

They all did, then sat at the table, which would be a perfectly normal thing to do, except that nothing would ever be normal again.

That was an exaggerated way to put it, but Matt knew it was true.

“Where are you from?” Elizabeth asked him, startling him by breaking into his overheated thoughts.

He struggled to deal with the question. “New Orleans.”

“What did your parents do?”

“My dad was an oil company executive. My mom sort of did the country club thing. They live in Santa Barbara, California, now.”

“Were you an only child?”

“Yes,” he answered, thinking that his mother had told him she’d had a lot of trouble getting pregnant. She’d been torn between wanting another child and not wanting to go through the rigors of a fertility clinic again. Although that had been her decision, she’d made it clear that he hadn’t been the loving son she’d wanted. But he didn’t tell the women any of that.

“Did you grow up down there?”

“Yes.”

Elizabeth was staring off into space. “What?” he asked.

“New Orleans.”

“What about it?”

“I remember stuff about the city. I mean, I can picture … Jackson Square,” she said.

“You’ve probably seen pictures.”

“I think I’ve been there. And the French Market.”

“Okay.”

He waited for her to give him more information, but she only shook her head. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

“We’ll assume you’re right.”

“If it’s true, it gives us something in common.”

He nodded, wondering if it was important and why it might be.

“Do you know how to cook pain perdu?” he asked.

“French toast?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s easy.”

“What about gumbo?”

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