Moonlight Over Manhattan(68)



“Feeble,” Susan muttered, visibly disgusted with his lack of motivation. “I really liked her, Ethan. I liked Alison, but the two of you together were just so wrong it was painful to watch. Not that I’m an expert, but if everyone on the planet had died of a hideous plague and you were the only two left, I would have suggested you both occupy different continents. You and Alison used to stand there comparing schedules. It made my unromantic heart break watching you. Now Harriet—” she lingered over the name “—she’s totally different. I don’t have many girlfriends. Don’t have the time but if I had one, I’d pick someone like Harriet. Fun, loyal, kind, great cook. And this is the part I don’t get—she moves into your house, takes care of your dog, generally improves your quality of life and then you wave her goodbye without even giving her the kiss of life?”

“She left my apartment conscious and breathing. She didn’t need the kiss of life.”

“For a smart guy, you’re stupid when it comes to women.”

“Knowing I’m not the right guy for her doesn’t make me stupid.”

But who would be? Not Eric, it seemed. Or Charlton. And how was she going to meet the right guy? She’d admitted she was giving up on internet dating, so what was she going to do? Hope to bump into someone in the park? It didn’t sound like a reliable strategy to him, especially for someone who was shy with people she didn’t know.

He thought about that first evening, when she’d stammered her way through their first encounter, and then remembered subsequent evenings when she’d been confident and comfortable.

All she needed to do was find a way to get through those few awkward hours when you first met someone. Once she relaxed, she had no problem. And he’d intended to help her with that part. He was the master of keeping things superficial. He could keep conversation skimming across the water like a hovercraft, never delving deeper. He preferred it that way.

Susan was scowling at him. “What makes you think you’re not the right guy?”

“Harriet deserves the best.”

“Jeez, Black.” She studied him for a moment. “I can’t believe the stuff you tell yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you say ‘she deserves the best,’ what you’re really saying is ‘she and I could be good together and that scares the shit out of me so I’m going to do that man thing of pretending it isn’t happening and hope it all goes away.’”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“No? Then call her up.”

“Why would I call her up?”

“Because it would be the smart move, and you’re supposed to be smart. Unless I’m right about you being scared. Unless you’re afraid you might actually fall for her, because that would be awkward, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

He frowned. “Maybe I don’t want to hurt her. She’s the type of person who spends her life looking after vulnerable creatures.”

Susan rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t make her vulnerable herself. Does she seem like a fragile flower? I don’t think so. She can make up her own mind about whether you’re trouble or not. Let her decide if you’re worth taking a risk over.”

Ethan thought about what he knew about her childhood. No, she certainly wasn’t a delicate flower. But she had been hurt. And he disagreed that she wasn’t vulnerable. He suspected she was extremely vulnerable. “She’s a good, decent person.”

“Right. But that doesn’t make her weak, you butthead. What are you saying? You’d rather date someone bad and indecent?”

Ethan grasped the opportunity to change the subject. “Now you mention it, that does sound like fun.” He broke off as a nurse hurried across to him.

“Dr. Black? You’re needed in Trauma 1.”

Ethan stood up, relieved to have an excuse to escape the inquisition.

He strode down the corridor, Susan’s voice followed him.

“Call her, Black. Or I’ll call her myself and fix the two of you up.”

“I don’t have a reason to call her.”

He paused in midstride.

Or maybe he did…

HARRIET WALKED THROUGH the snowy expanse of Central Park with Brutus and Valentine. The two dogs adored each other so she was always happy to walk them together whenever Daniel and Molly needed her to. Brutus lived up to his name, an exuberant, slightly overbearing German shepherd whereas Valentine, a handsome Dalmatian, was sleek and cool. He never tugged on his lead and occasionally glanced over his shoulder to check Harriet was okay. He was a beautiful dog, and always drew glances wherever he went and not only because of his heart-shaped nose. Molly always claimed it was his nose that inspired his name, but Harriet wasn’t sure she believed her. Before Molly had met Daniel, she’d been totally off men.

Harriet had never felt that way, but she did often wonder how on earth you were supposed to meet someone you’d like to spend the rest of your life with. With almost all the men she’d met it had been a struggle to make it to the end of the date. The last one had lasted all of forty minutes. Clocking up forty years seemed ambitious.

But things had changed overnight for Molly. Maybe that could happen to her too.

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