Page 10 of Cruising for You

Dr. Donaldson must have taken my silence for confusion at his words. “Adam Donaldson. I work at Beaufort. We shared an elevator together the other night. You’re Jenna Allen, right?”

“Yeah. Uh, you do look familiar.” I tried to sound vague, as if I didn’t know exactly who he was. As if I hadn’t fought a lowkey crush on him for months. “What department are you in?”

“Infectious Disease.” Adam placed both hands on his knees, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Apparently, work was a conversation killer.

We were only silent for a second before an urgent need to fill every blank space with conversation took over. “Where did you go to school?”

“I did an MD/PhD program at the University of Washington, a residency at Emery and a fellowship at the Mayo Clinic.” Adam’s tone was calm, more suited to relating a ten percent-off sale at the hospital gift shop than revealing an impeccable education.

I blurted out the obvious question. “And you came to work at Beaufort?” It was by no means a bad hospital, but with a resume like that, he could have worked anywhere: Johns Hopkins, Royal Brompton... even the International Space Station, if he’d wanted. The sky wasn’t the limit in his case.

Adam shrugged. “I wanted to settle closer to family, and Beaufort was the first offer I got on the East Coast. What about you?”

“I went to nursing school in my home state, at the University of North Carolina. I worked at Duke Hospital for a few years, then came here.” I shifted slightly in my chair. Talking about the move came too close to talking about the reason for it.

Adam ran a finger over one of the tree rings on the table before us. “North Carolina is a beautiful state. I attended a conference there a few years ago. Reminded me of Virginia, where my grandmother lives.”

“Both green and leafy,” I agreed. I glanced at the plant I’d brought, second-guessing the plan to give him a gift. It had seemed like a nice gesture, but now, I wasn’t so sure. What if he thought it signaled more than just friendship? What if he took it to his office and told everyone who came in there that he’d received it as a gift from Jenna Allen in the ICU?

Adam’s gaze followed mine. “You brought a friend? Another one, I mean.”

Relieved at his platonic description of our relationship, I made up my mind. What else was I going to tell him—it was my emotional support plant? “It’s for you. It’s adracaena trifasciata—a snake plant.”

He peered at the plant like it was an actual snake he wasn’t sure wouldn’t bite him. “Dracaena, you said? I’ll have to do some research.”

I nodded, wondering if he wanted to look up the dangers of the snake plant.

He pulled the pot a little closer to himself. “I don’t have much luck with keeping plants alive, but I’ll research what it needs.”

“It’s nearly impossible to kill,” I informed him. “Just stick it in a window and only water it when the soil is dry.” Not knowing how much experience he had with greenery, I hadn’t wanted to give him something demanding.

He nodded and stared at the little plant with intense concentration before looking up at me with a smile so unexpectedly sweet that my breath caught.

Then he placed his hands on the table. “I need to be honest.”

My whole body froze. “I need to be honest” was exactly the phrase Westin used before the end of our six-month relationship. And it had followed with him detailing all the many ways he’d been dishonest with me.

Taking my glazed silence as permission, Adam continued. “I didn’t get on the Connect app to make a friend.”

My heart sank when I realized where he was going, and I started gathering the energy to hit him with “It’s not you; it’s every employee of Beaufort.”

“My grandma is turning ninety next week.”

The fist around my stomach unclenched just a tiny bit. That didn’t sound like a pickup line. Was his grandma the one who really needed a friend? I wouldn’t mind visiting an older lady. “That’s great!” I exclaimed, hoping my enthusiasm could disguise my conflicting, embarrassing thoughts.

He leaned forward a little. “Yes... and we’re going on a cruise.”

“How nice?” Maybe he wanted me to start visiting her after she got back.

“And she thinks I’m bringing someone with me.”

“Oh. Like... a nurse?” I frowned. There were services you could call to get a nurse to travel with you, one who’d probably know way more about eldercare than I did. And unless he’d been given the option to specify that he wanted to be friends with a nurse—I sure hadn’t—it was kind of a stretch to think he’d get matched with one.

“No.” Adam swallowed hard. “Like... a girlfriend.”

“Oh,” I repeated. My stomach resumed its previous contraction. “The thing is... I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now.” I held my breath, awaiting disappointment or annoyance that he’d wasted his time.

Adam’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s a relief. I’m not looking for a girlfriend, either.”

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