Page 37 of Careless Whisper

I rolled my eyes. “Right.”

He held up the paper bag. “Strawberry lavender. Want some?”

I narrowed my eyes. “No, thank you.”

“Think of it as a peace offering.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe.”

He looked adorable saying that. My heartmelted.

Fool!

I didn’t plan it (who knows ifhedid)—we just drifted through the market together, past artisan stalls and bakeries, past buskers playing acoustic covers of ’90s hits.

Being with him was easy…as easy as breathing.

We ended up at a small patio café overlooking Elliott Bay, where we split mussels, crusty bread, a lemony salad, and iced drinks that sweated on the table between us.

We talked about patients and ridiculous consults, the worst cafeteria meals, and the surgical intern who fainted during a CABG last week and blamed it on “vibes”.

He made me laugh—really laugh—the way I used to.

“Where do you live?” Elias asked as the afternoon winded down, and I said it was time for me to go home.

“Capitol Hill.”

“You drove?”

I shook my head. “Walked.”

Pike Place Market was just a half-hour walk from home, and when I could, I took the opportunity not to drive.

“May I walk you home?”

I let out a long exhale.

“I’m right next door in South Lake Union,” he explained.

“That isnotnext door,” I retorted.

He shrugged. “Let me walk you home, Gigi.”

So, we walked, and we talked, and we enjoyed the silence.

“You know I never took you out on a date in Boston,” Elias said suddenly.

“You mean eating a power bar in the on-call room wasn’t a date?” I mocked.

He chuckled. “No, that wasn’t a date. I never even knew where you lived.”

He hadn’t bothered to know. He hadn’t bothered to ask me out. I’d tried. God knows I had.

“Come home, and I’ll cook for us.”

“I wish I could, Gigi, but I have a family thing.”

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