Page 37 of The Love Dose
Calvin and I delight in our meal. No need for side fries. I want to devote all my calories to this one masterpiece.
When we’re finished, there’s a mountain of stained napkins between us.
“You missed a spot.” Calvin leans over and wipes the edge of my lip. With his thumb.
Every one of my nerve fibers revs up. Right here in the burger joint. I’m a millimeter away from licking his fingers, when the waitress materializes with two colas in old-fashioned glass bottles and snaps off their caps. “Dessert.”
I let Calvin finish the lip wiping job without grossing out the waitress.
I refocus all my attention to the cola in front of me. I can’t recall the last time I drank one. It’s terrible for you. The irony makes me smile. I just downed enough cholesterol to give me an actual coronary.
“Doctor, I believe you just fed me an extremely heart-unhealthy lunch. Seems irresponsible.” I’m halfway through my drink.
He leans in, finding something in my expression that tells him I’m not actually annoyed. It feels good to have someone get me again.
“Your episode was stress-induced and while you are correct, eating comfort food—in moderation—can help reduce stress. Tell me, how’s your anxiety right now?”
He’s so close I can count the black hairs in his short, scruffy beard. I ponder what it would feel like against my neck. Scratchy? Ticklish?
I down the last of my dessert. “What anxiety?”
He laughs and stands, leaving a sizable tip for the waitress, then thanks the cook.
“Come by any time, Calvin.”
We’re heading to the door. “Where to now?” I ask.
“We need to balance out that meal with some exercise. Build up a sweat.” The intensity on his face makes my heart flip.
I follow him outside, ready for whatever kind of exercise my hot doc has in mind.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Calvin
I'm not sure how I did it but I convinced Caroline to take a stroll with me down Main Street. She’s a good sport given the frigid weather. When I suggested a sweat-breaking exercise, she jumped right on board. Maybe because that burger had the calorie content of three ice creams sundaes and a bucket of lard.
I'm excited to show her my hometown and not from the inside of my SUV. I hurry to the car and hand her a pair of wool gloves and a scarf to match the hat she’s already wearing. They are dreadful, I admit, but they're the warmest things I own. She eyes the offering and with teeth chattering, dons them.
We keep pace, heart-pumping until I slow down, taking hold of Caroline’s arm. There’s a patch of ice in our path and I navigate us around it.
“Thanks,” she says.
She doesn’t pull away from my grasp though we’re now on salted, secure pavement. We continue arm-in-arm as I pointout Barker’s Cleaners, The Doughnut Hole Café, and Vintage Vermont, a second-hand store that’s been there forever.
We fall into a comfortable silence, each of us lost in our thoughts. I can see the roof of my high school on the parallel street. If we had more time I’d take Caroline inside and show her the basketball gym where I scored the game-winning points that led to the trophy I'm sure remains behind glass in the long school corridor. I would also show her the lab where I first fell in love with medicine.
So much of Sugarbush Falls looks the same but I’ve changed. I’m a big city guy now, a soon-to-be Dad. It’s an odd feeling.
A mail truck goes by, the driver offering a friendly wave which we return. It occurs to me I’ve never even seen my New York mail carrier, let alone exchange pleasantries.
We pass the town library and I picture the biography section where I experienced my first kiss. Behind the racks where no one but the occasional librarian ventured. I was fourteen. Thanks to Aunt Pearl's updates, I know Jenny has two grandkids now. Our lives have gone in very different directions since our childhood lip lock.
We arrive at a small, well-maintained park with benches and a tiered fountain, shut off for the season. Holiday music pipes out of speakers hidden in the landscaping. We step into the gazebo, the town’s oldest and most beloved landmark. The blue spruce beyond it is a far cry from the one in Rockefeller Center but it’s lovely, decked in colorful ornaments and topped with a large silver star.
I turn to Caroline who has been quiet since our walk began. Probably too cold to speak. She’s looking around like an astronaut on Mars. She slips her gloved hand in mine.
We stand here, under the gazebo, admiring the tranquil, picturesque scene. It’s incredibly tempting to stay right where I am, holding Caroline’s hand on Main Street in my hometown.
