“Go up and say hi,” Connor encouraged me.
“I can’t,” I said.
“Of course you can,” he laughed. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” I responded curtly.
“I’ll do it,” he threatened.
“Don’t. Leave them alone,” I growled.
“Suit yourself.” Connor shrugged. “Are we ever going to get service?”
I looked around for the waitress. She had gone back inside, leaving all of the patrons without help. Most of the rest of the customers were eating already. I realized Connor was right: We should probably eat. If I headed back now without putting something in my belly, I knew I would regret it later.
As soon as the waitress reemerged, I flagged her down. If she noticed the muffin, she didn’t say anything.
“A Reuben,” Connor said.
“Make that two,” I requested.
“Two Reubens,” the waitress said, writing it down.
“I’ve been monopolizing the conversation,” Connor observed. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing much,” I replied.
I couldn’t take my eyes off that wee lass. She sparked something deeply protective in me. Maybe it was the shape of her chin, or that little button nose. I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to hold her in my arms.
Connor waved a hand in front of my face. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Maybe so,” I agreed.
I forced myself to look away. The last thing I wanted was for her to catch on that I was staring. A moment later, she got up to go. Both women looked down at their phones for a moment, playing pass the buck. They each typed something into the other one’s device and handed them back. I had been wrong about their friendship. It looked like they were just getting to know each other.
I watched surreptitiously as they maneuvered toward us, past their own table and the one in front of it. She almost bumped my arm with her hip as she swished past. I thought I could feel the denim of her jeans, its soft whisper music to my ears.
Then she was gone, and I was left alone with my best friend. I exhaled in frustration. I would probably never see her again. Connor was right, I realized; I should have said something. But I was so much older than her. What would we have in common? She was a nanny, and I was a doctor. That alone was an insurmountable gulf. Connor tried to tell me that it didn’t matter. When two people were hot for each other, the only thing that counted was sex appeal.
Maybe he was right and I was wrong. If only I was able to see things his way, I could have thrown caution to the wind and approached her in the café. It was over now, though. I’d let my one shot slip away.
I turned back to my friend, filling him in on the details of my latest crisis. It seemed like there was always a crisis at the hospital. We weren’t supposed to talk about the patients, but most of us did. As long as I didn’t use any names or specifics, a general description of the events as they unfolded was fair game in my mind.
I had Connor hanging on my every word by the time our meal arrived.
“I wish I had your life,” he said, scooping the sandwich up in one hand.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I replied, taking a bite out of my own.
“I’ll trade you,” he teased.
“You’re on.” I was serious. If I had half of Connor’s bravado, I would quit his difficult job at the university. He had money; he didn’t have to teach. I would use my time to travel the world, meeting interesting women and taking them to bed. Of course, I would have to sleep with men as well if I was Connor, but even that wasn’t enough to dissuade me.
If we were living in a cheap comedy film, this would be where the buddies switched bodies through some magic of the breakroom muffin or something like that. But it was real life, and we had each made our own choices.
We finished our lunch and said goodbye. I walked back to the hospital, unhurried, thinking about that woman I had seen. It was a shame that I hadn’t had the balls to say hello. For all I knew, she wouldn’t have cared about the age difference.
There was no use worrying about it, though. The time had passed. I had plenty of things to do and not enough time in the day to get them all done.