Page 15 of Raise The Bar
“Umm…a caramel latte, please.” Maggie says, smiling up at him. When the kid rushes off to make her drink a man appears next to her table. He’s taller than I want him to be.
“You must be Maggie,” he says shyly, extending his hand.
“You must be Sebastian.” She smiles warmly at him as she takes it.
And I, most certainly, am screwed.
Chapter 8
Maggie
“My schedule is pretty hectic, as you can imagine,” Sebastian admits, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I don’t date much.” He’s handsome; not knee-buckling handsome like someone else in this coffee shop who will remain unnamed, more of an all-American, NFL first draft pick handsome. Brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a square jaw. He has the look of someone who belonged to more than one country club growing up, even in his casual khaki shorts and button-up polo.
We’ve been sitting here exchanging pleasantries for the past five minutes and it’s been going better than I expected. I was prepared for your typical ego-inflated surgeon with a God complex, but Sebastian is soft-spoken and very sweet. Saying that his schedule is busy is the most he’s spoken about himself since we’ve sat down.
“I don’t date much either.” I keep my gaze fixed on Sebastian, but I’m distracted. I can feel Callum’s eyes on me, but I’m determined not to look at him. I notice when he moves in my peripheral vision. Every time he takes a sip of coffee, or runs his hand through his hair, I am aware. But then I always seem to be aware when Callum is concerned. Too aware. Hyper aware. Painfully aware. The way his steely-blue eyes widened when I mentioned my romance novel. How they flickered to my mouth when I made the joke about third-base. I’m not an expert on attraction, but I’m also not an idiot. He wants me. Why else would he turn up to my date like this?
What I don’t understand is why he doesn’t just ask me out again. Why doesn’t he turn up that signature charm and make a move? Tell me to abandon this ridiculous plan of dating random strangers and go on a date with him instead.
Why do you want him to, Maggie?
I don’t, I remind myself. If he did ask me out, I would turn him down again. I want a nice, reliable, one-woman guy who will take me to my sister’s wedding and possibly bind himself to me for the rest of his natural life. Is that too much to ask? I do not want a serial-dating playboy who will set me on fire and leave me to burn.
I see Callum shift in his seat, but keep my eyes on my date. I am here on a date with Sebastian.
Focus, Maggie.
Our orders are delivered to the table; a small Americano for Sebastian and a large caramel latte and cinnamon roll for me. My mouth waters as I gaze upon my breakfast. I have never been one to deny my sweet tooth and today is no exception. The cinnamon roll is approximately the size of my head and my stomach growls as I break off the first piece and breathe in its comforting scent. When it hits my taste buds, I fight the urge to moan.
“Have you lived in Boston long?” I ask, trying to draw more information out of him. He pauses thoughtfully. I’ve noticed he does this every time before he speaks, like he’s choosing his words carefully. As someone who usually says the first thing that pops into my head, it makes things a bit awkward. I feel like there is a transmission delay every time I ask him a question.
“It will be four years next month. Right after I finished my residency at Johns Hopkins.” There is no arrogance in his tone, no humble brag in the way he says it. He’s simply stating a fact. A fact that he went to one of the best medical schools in the country. “And you?”
“Almost ten years,” I say smiling. “I grew up not far from here in Dedham. My dad still lives there.” My father recently retired from his position as an elementary school principal after almost twenty years. He and my stepmom, Valerie, have since been enjoying retirement, but I know he misses his school.
My dad is not your run of the mill overprotective type. He encouraged our independence from a young age, raising both his daughters to follow their own paths. But after I ended things with Mark he made sure I knew I was always welcome to come home. He didn’t love the idea of me being in the city on my own and he and Valerie had a spare room all ready for me. I assured him that I had June and Betty so I really wasn’t alone. Not to mention my clients. I didn’t want to have to take the train into the city every day when there was a perfectly good apartment available to me.
“And your mom?”
Always this question. Every time.
“My mom died when I was in high school.” I brace myself for the pity party that is about to be thrown in my honor. My date stills across from me, then sits up with interest.
“Heart attack?” He asks pointedly.
What?
“N-no,” I stammer, caught off guard. “She had ovarian cancer.”
“Ah,” he relaxes back into his chair. “That can be tricky to detect and difficult to treat.”
I stare at him dumbly. He’s talking about the illness that took my mother from me like it’s an annoying cold or flu.
“Yeah, I guess so,” is all I’m able to muster.
“Do you have a family history of other diseases?” he asks, lifting his coffee to his mouth and blowing on it gently to make sure it’s not too hot.
The fuck?
