Page 76 of Paging Dr. Breakup
“That’s awesome. He’s a good person.”
“His husband would agree, though he’s also biased.” She grinned. “Clyde’s been strutting around, telling everyone about his win.”
He chuckled and reached out across the table, relieved when she slid her hand into his. “So. The festival.”
“You’re like a dog with a bone, aren’t you?”
“When I put my mind to something, yes.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, satisfied with her tiny intake of breath. “I’d like to spend Breakup Festival day with you, on another real date.”
“We’re not even done with this date!” She smiled.
God, what he’d give to see more of that smile.
“I like to plan.” He hesitated.
“But?”
“But I’m signed up for the dunking booth to raise money for hospice. Also, I want to honor Elijah.”
Her brown eyebrows shot up. “Plunging into ice water doesn’t sound safe for you.” She motioned toward his head.
“I’m not an invalid. I just had my bell rung.”
“Look, I know we use therapeutic hypothermia in certain conditions, but not two weeks after a head injury.”
“Eh, won’t hurt.”
“You sound like your dad.”
He palmed his forehead with his free hand. Ouch. Kind of ached. “Never say that again!”
After another minute of gentle laughter, she said, “Tell me a story about growing up with your folks.”
“Can do. But only if you’ll return the favor with a story about yours.”
Her eyes shimmered and he followed the line of her throat as she swallowed.
In a tight voice, she said, “It’s a deal.”
A few minutes later, their meals arrived, and they dug in. Calvin surprised himself by sharing the story of him and Pop eating all of Mom’s blackberries before she could make them into a pie. He had tried to hide the evidence, but the purple all over his face and hands gave away the crime.
“So, Pop didn’t get his blackberry pie, I got a bellyache, and Mom refused to fix us any dinner. Those were dark times.”
Her sudden sound of mirth surprised both of them, and she pressed her lips together for a beat. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I love watching you laugh. Glad you find my misery entertaining.”
“That’s a fun memory.”
“It’s memorable, all right.” He chewed his last bite of salmon patty, then pushed his plate to the side and sat back. “How about you? What’s your favorite memory?”
A shadow of a frown came and went as she tapped her lip. “There are a lot to choose from. Things I haven’t thought about in a while.”
“What was something you and your family enjoyed doing together?”
“Back in the day? Ice fishing, for sure.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice. “Not a fan nowadays, obviously.”
Right. Her parents’ plane crashed, then broke through the ice and into the river. He mentally kicked himself. “Hey. Never mind. You don’t have to share. I’m sorry.”
