Page 106 of All In
“I’m no longer accepting new patients,” I lie through gritted teeth because I would rather quit my job and be homeless than take him on as a patient. Or have him see any therapist in the department.
“Ooookay.”
Maria’s lips form a thin line, revealing her frustration. “To answer your question, Sam, I didn’t quit. I transferred offices. Things were becoming complicated and a little hard to deal with, so I thought it was better to move on.”
She’s moved on, alright.
She continues. “Apparently, even after dozens of apologies, there are some things that are unforgivable, so I decided not to wait around.”
Ouch.I guess I deserved that one.
Cara interlaces her fingers together, resting them on the table, and comes to my rescue with a subject change. “So, what is it that you do for a living, Geoffrey?” Her lips curl up in a flirtatious smile.
Boy, Cara is really interested in all things Geoffrey, isn’t she?
Before replying, Geoffrey studies Maria intently, his brows furrowed, looking confused, at her answer to my question. He shakes his head in frustration, then looks directly at Cara. “I’m in family law and a partner at Reynolds, Ghizzoni, and Weston.”
“A lawyer. Wow! Impressive.”
A lawyer. I mean, why not at this point? What other line of work would the perfect man be in? A lawyer or doctor are your only two options. Or a professional athlete. And by the looks of his body, he could pull that off as well.
“It’s not that impressive,” Geoffrey continues. “It’s a lot of work. And dealing with people’s family problems can really drain you.”
Maria’s hand shoots back up to his chest again. I guess she can’t keep her hands off of him. She can probably feel his bulging pecs through his suit. “Don’t be modest, honey. He’s the best family attorney in the state, if you ask me.”
Well, we didn’t, Maria.My inner eye roll is huge.
I can tell muscle man Geoff is over this conversation because he uncoils his arm from Maria’s waist and grabs her hand. “Well, it was nice to meet you both. Maria and I need to get going.” He looks lovingly down at her and winks as a playful smile crosses his lips. “My place, right?”
Shoot me now. He knows what he’s doing. I hate him. My hand tightens around the glass.
“Of course.” Maria turns to us both. “Sam, it was good to see you again. Cara, it was a pleasure meeting you. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
They are already turning to leave, not wanting to get away from us fast enough, when Cara says, “Likewise.” We both watch them exit the restaurant.
“Well, that was awkward,” I say, rubbing my hand down my jaw, hoping to release some of the tension radiating throughout my whole body.
Cara and I sit in silence as we wait for the check—which is taking forever—the awkwardness from the last five minutes hanging in the air. Waiters and waitresses pass us by, oblivious to the dining disaster that just happened.
While we wait, I glance at the beautiful woman who has been nothing but wonderful to me. I met her the day she moved into her apartment. She has floated in and out of my life for close to twenty-five years. And with that thought, I can’t help but wonder if I will regret this decision. “One last drink together?” I ask.
She glances at her phone, then sheepishly answers. “Okay.” I flag down the waiter, and within minutes, another scotch and a glass of wine appear at our table.
For at least a half an hour, we drink and chat like friends do. A friend who you shared adventures with, confided in, and loved. In this moment, I realize I will miss Cara. She’s truly a remarkable woman. Only, not the woman for me. I hope she finds happiness and love.
After we wait for our check for a second time, a notification sounds from Cara’s phone. She glances at it, stands, and retrieves her purse and shawl from the back of the chair before pushing it into the table. With a swift motion, shedrapes her shawl over her arm. “Wait, the check hasn’t come yet,” I say, my confusion evident in every word because she knows we haven’t paid yet.
With a gentle smile, she walks over to me and leans down, brushing a sweet, affectionate kiss against my cheek. Her lips are warm but not as familiar as they were before. She wipes away the lipstick mark she left. “Take care of yourself, Sam.”
“Cara, hold on. How are you getting home?” I stand and pull a Geoffrey, throwing cash on the table.
“I called an Uber while you stared at Maria’s legs. It’s here, and I’m leaving,” she informs me as she stands a little straighter.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I can take you home and we can talk—”
“It’s better this way. There’s nothing left to say.”
I nod in agreement, my eyes meeting hers, silently conveying my respect for her decision. This is her way of letting go, not prolonging the painful breakup goodbye on her front porch.
