rather than seeing what was really happening around me.”
“Consequentially, you don’t date?”
“Not that I wouldn’t date someone, if he was the right one. But after I had the wrong one...” She shrugged. “It’s left me more cautious than I probably should be.”
“So how long were you married?”
“A grand total of nine months. Six of which were long and difficult.” She took a sip of water. “He was a third-year resident who was badly in need of someone to finance his education and lifestyle. I’d just earned my doctorate in nursing so I suppose I looked like a likely candidate to him. We married fast, and divorced just as fast. And in the few months we were together he never stopped looking for his next conquest—someone with deeper pockets than mine were.”
“But were you in love?”
“Totally. For about a minute. Then I finally saw the real man behind the facade and the rest, as they say, was history.”
“Did it break your heart when it didn’t work out?”
She frowned slightly. “More like, it broke my stride. Made me jittery to try again.”
“Because you’re afraid of getting hurt?”
“Because what I’ve discovered is that, when it comes to relationships, I don’t have a clue. I made a bad mistake once and I don’t trust myself not to do it again.”
“Aren’t you being a little too hard on yourself?”
Zoey shook her head. “Better hard on myself right now than divorced another time later on.”
Daniel looked up as a tall, gawky man in a red-and-black plaid tuxedo jacket took a seat in one of the two upturned chairs, finally filling up the table. “I’m Stan Kramer,” he said, more to the air than to Daniel and Zoey. “I work in account receivables. I’m a section manager.”
Daniel extended the courtesy of introducing himself and Zoey to Stan, then he fixed his eyes on Stan’s gigantic Adam’s apple as it bobbled up and down while he gulped his cocktail. After the initial introduction, Stan made no attempt to converse any further.
After the table finally filled up, the people there began to whisper amongst themselves and, for the most part, they turned into a pleasant, chatty group. Daniel did have to admit that it was nice to be around a bunch of people who weren’t patients and who didn’t want something from him. Although, mostly, he contented himself listening to the conversations of others, only participating when someone intentionally drew him in.
“You’re not enjoying yourself,” Zoey whispered in his ear. It was a statement, not a question.
“Actually, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“But you’re so quiet.” She bent to the left as the waiter set a plate down in front of her—chicken cordon bleu, asparagus and balsamic tomato salad.
“Because I don’t have anything to contribute.”
“You don’t really keep yourself that secluded, do you?”
He thought about her question for a moment, then shrugged. “I suppose I do. Elizabeth used to force me into the conversation—for my own good, she’d tell me. But, like I said, I’ve always been more of a loner.” Unlike his twin, Damien, who was as outgoing as they came. Introvert and extrovert. Daniel had accepted his place as the introvert a long time ago. In fact, there were times in his life when he envied Damien his outgoing ways. Like now, when his twin was off on a medical adventure down in Costa Rica. Not that Daniel wanted something like that for himself, because he didn’t. But he did admire the kind of free spirit that could simply take itself from one scenario to another at will.
“So, other than being threatened into coming, how did such a loner get himself here tonight?”
“By sheer will. It’s an important event and, while I don’t understand how my presence here makes much of a difference one way or another, I do know that the hospital needs all the support it can get. So I came.”
“Kicking and screaming?” She laughed.
“Not so much. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t protest a little bit.” He glanced down at the chicken cordon bleu; it actually looked good. Better than anything he fixed. His cooking nowadays consisted of whatever Maddie would eat, which didn’t include a wide variety of anything. He’d mastered spaghetti and meatballs, or “sketti,” as Maddie called it. His fridge was stocked with strawberry yogurt and there was always peanut butter. She’d eat a grilled-cheese sandwich, pizza and chicken nuggets, too. Most everything else was a struggle, so as often as not he found it easier to give in to his daughter’s limited culinary preferences. A couple times a month, though, Abby would invite him to stay for dinner when he went to pick up Maddie, and those were the times when he got to break away from his cooking doldrums. It was nice to eat the occasional adult meal, and this meal in front of him now certainly qualified as an adult meal. After his first couple bites of the chicken, he sighed. It didn’t disappoint.
“So I take it you don’t get out much,” she stated before she popped a forkful of the tomato salad into her mouth.
“With Maddie I do. On my days off. I don’t want her growing up sheltered or...well...like me. You know...crowd-hater. As much as it works for me, I see how it can be limiting, and I don’t want that for her. So I make it a point of taking her out somewhere every chance I get. Of course, I think she’s in it for the pizza she always gets afterward.”
“Maybe she’s in it because she likes spending time with her daddy.”
“That would be nice to think, but her daddy is a little stricter than Maddie likes.”
“That’s a daddy’s job.”
“Elizabeth was the soft one. Like her mother, she didn’t have the heart to refuse Maddie anything. Which put me in the position of having to be the bad guy, the one who said no, the one who enforced the discipline that Elizabeth couldn’t enforce.”
“I can’t imagine someone as young as Maddie needs much discipline.”
Daniel chuckled. “I can tell you haven’t been around kids very much. Three’s precisely the age when a child needs discipline. It’s a learning experience for them. Teach them young, and maybe you won’t have to come down so hard on them when they’re older.”
“In other words, you’re an ogre.”
“That’s a question you need to ask Maddie. She has a very distinct opinion on a whole list of subjects, and I happen to be at the top of her list.”
“Then she’s headstrong.” Zoey scooped a pat of butter off the butter plate and spread it on a roll. “Taking after her daddy, of course.”
“You think I’m headstrong?”
“I don’t know you well enough to form an opinion, but my instincts tell me yes.”
“I’ll admit it. I’m headstrong...as headstrong as you are blunt.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You intend to be blunt?”
“I’ve practiced being blunt.” Her eyes gleamed with laughter. “It’s an acquired skill that I’ve worked on over time.”
“Let me guess. You used to be shy and retiring.”
“Something like that.”
“Hard to imagine,” he mumbled as he forked up a spear of asparagus.
He regarded her for a moment as she chewed a piece of her dinner roll. Bluntness became her. She wore it well because she wasn’t rude about it. More like, she was practical or matter-of-fact. She made an observation and was honest when she called it out. He couldn’t fault her for that. Couldn’t fault anyone who didn’t skirt around