Today's Reading
Ugh, Grandmother, really? A pediatric surgeon? So much for that whole don't have kids if you really don't want to line she's always trying to feed me. She's becoming more obvious in her old age.
"Great, well, I don't know what kind of workload you bring home with you every night, but whatever it is, feel free to take care of it." I swipe open my phone.
"I don't bring work with me on dates."
"Your loss." One of the first lessons Grandmother instilled in me was to be ready to work at any possible moment, lest any free time be wasted.
Mimi arrives back at our table just as my need for wine is hitting its highest level. "Here we are." She gently sets down our glasses in front of us and then instead of returning to her job, decides to stick around. "I just have to say, the two of you make an absolutely gorgeous couple. Truly. You look like you were made for each other!"
I pull my gaze from my phone so I can grimace. I open my mouth to— politely—ask her to bug off, but Ben beats me to it.
"Thank you so much, Mimi. That's so kind of you." He flashes her a brilliant smile that, while obnoxious in its warmth, has the desired effect of sending Mimi on her merry little way. Ben takes a large swig of his wine and then, thankfully, lapses into silence.
I take full advantage, firing off responses to ten emails in the time it takes for our food to be prepared and delivered. Mimi lingers, hovering over us and asking if we need anything despite us both saying no the first two times she asked.
When she finally slinks away after neither of us engage, I set my phone to the side.
"Are you going to bless me with your presence?" Ben takes a huge bite of his pasta and meets my gaze head-on.
"I don't know what you mean, I've been here the whole time."
He finishes chewing and sips from his wineglass. "I guess in the physical sense, sure."
I stab a tomato with my fork. "I thought I had made my intentions clear."
"You don't intend for this to go anywhere. You weren't exactly subtle."
"So then where's the miscommunication?"
He twirls his fork in his bowl of spaghetti. "I don't understand why we can't have a conversation if we're going to be sitting here anyway."
"Because I have work to do."
"Do you always have work to do?"
"Yes."
"When do you take time for yourself?"
"I don't."
"That doesn't seem very healthy."
"I'm fit as a fiddle, Dr. Loving." I gesture to his pasta with my fork, lettuce speared on the tip of it. "Dare I say, I might be healthier than you."
"There's more to health than the difference between pasta and a salad." He chugs the last of his wine. "When was the last time you took a vacation?"
"I'll take a vacation when I retire."
"I literally save children's lives for a living and even I take vacations."
"Some of us are just born with a strong work ethic, I guess." Though I don't think I was born this way. So much of my drive can likely be attributed to my burning need to be nothing like my mother, but that is a sentiment I don't share with anyone, let alone handsome strangers.
Ben sits back in his seat. "I think I've lost my appetite."
...
