Page 56 of Don't Tell Me How to Die

“Did you tell him you prefer girls?” I said.

“Mags, he’s a fourth-year med student. I was trying to impress him, so I broke the news in Latin.Ergo sum lesbian.”

I laughed.

“He wants to meet you,” she said.

“Me? How does he even know who I am?”

“As soon as I turned him down, he said, ‘Are there any more at home like you—only straighter?’ I showed him your picture. He’s interested.”

“I’m not. The subject is closed.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You have a few relationships go south, and?—”

“Not a few.Sixsince I showed up here in Philadelphia seven years ago,” I said. “Six is not a few.”

“So now what? Are you going to give up men and come over to the dark side?”

“No. I’m going to give up looking for love in all the wrong places, lock myself up in the law library, and study my ass off till I pass the bar. A law degree will take care of me in my old age, which is more than I can say about any of the men I’ve picked.”

“Bingo,” she said, pointing a finger at me. “You just defined the problem. Did you hear what you said? ‘The men I’ve picked.’”

I gave her a blank look. “What are you talking about?”

“Maybe you’re not bad at relationships, Maggie. Maybe you just suck at picking the right guy.”

“And so I should let my gay sister who—correct me if I’m wrong—never dated a man in her life—pick Mr. Right for me.”

“Trust me,” Lizzie said. “This guy’s worth it. And he’s not justMisterRight. Next year this time he’ll beDoctorRight.”

“Not interested.”

“I’m telling you: Alex is drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Then I’m sureAlexwon’t have any trouble finding a date.”

“That’s the problem. He attracts them in droves. But you know the type of women who come on strong to guys like Alex. Spoiled, privileged, shallow debutantes who didn’t go to college to pursue a career or achieve financial independence. They’re trolling for a husband, and a handsome med student with a great future ahead of him will make Daddy and Mommy very happy.”

“Sounds like Alex has bared his soul to you.”

“We went out for drinks last week. We talked. I like him a lot.”

“I hope you two will be very happy together,” I said.

“Would you at least check out what he looks like?”

“Fine,” I said, pointing at her flip phone. “Show me his damn picture.”

“I’ll do better than that,” she said, looking over my shoulder and waving her hand. I thought she was signaling for our waiter. But she wasn’t.

A man stepped up to our table. He was, I thought at first glance, genetically blessed by the gods. Haunting blue eyes, a granite jaw, a confident smile that showed perfect white teeth, broad shoulders, strong masculine hands—I was still taking inventory when he spoke.

“Hi, I’m Alex Dunn,” he said, his voice warm and captivating. “You, of course, are Maggie.”

I nodded, unable to take my eyes off him.

“And from the look on your face,” he said, “I’m pretty sure I know what you’re thinking.”

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