Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(73)

We talked for a while longer; after an hour or so, we decided to leave.

Because our order was small, I left a generous tip for the waiter. I was about to suggest we take a stroll along the waterfront or ride the monorail to the Seattle Center, site of the 1962 World's Fair. That event had put Seattle on the map, my father had told me. Then Leanne yawned, a clear signal that she was ready to go home. I might not be able to decipher the finer points of a movie plot, but I could tell when a woman was eager for my company and when she wasn't.

We walked back to where I'd parked the car and I opened her door. It was still light out, but at this time of year, the sun didn't set until almost nine-thirty.

When we were close to her complex, Leanne glanced at me and said, "You don't need to walk me to my apartment."

"You want me just to drop you off?"

"Sure. Don't go to any trouble."

In other words, she wanted to make a quick escape. I'd be lying if I said my ego hadn't taken a hit. It wasn't that I intended to invite myself in to spend the night, but it would've been nice if she'd shown some sign of having enjoyed our time together.

"The curb will be fine," she said next.

"Okay."

Leanne must have detected my disappointment be- cause she turned to look at me. "Michael, oh, my goodness, I'm being rude! Forgive me, please. Would you like to come up?"

"No, that's okay. I have things to do." Another lie.

"I can't believe I was so thoughtless."

"Leanne," I said, "it's okay. Really." I was sincere about that. If I'd accepted her invitation it would've been for the wrong reasons. I'd hoped to distract myself to avoid thinking about Macy. My motives weren't exactly pristine.

I pulled up to the curb.

"I had a wonderful time," Leanne said with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Me, too."

I started to get out of the car to open her door, but Leanne placed her hand on my arm and stopped me.

When I turned back she offered me a soft smile, slipped her arms around my neck and kissed me. The kiss was lengthy and passionate, as if she was trying to prove how much she'd enjoyed my company. When she finished I realized we'd both been trying too hard to find something that just wasn't there.

She knew it.

So did I.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Have I ever asked anything of you before?" Ritchie asked, his breath coming in gasps as he kept pace with the treadmill. Usually he had his ears plugged with his iPod, but this morning he'd decided to hound me into rejoining the weekly poker match.

I pretended not to hear him.

"Michael." He tried again.

I glanced in his direction. "To answer your question, yes, you have. In fact, you seem to constantly be asking me to do one thing or another."

"It's a poker game. You used to love poker."

"I was young and foolish."

"So, what changed?" Ritchie asked, cocking one thick eyebrow.

I sighed. Okay, so Ritchie wanted me to sit in for Bill, whose wife had recently given birth to twins. Bill had taken my spot in the weekly game two years earlier, and now, with the demands of a young family, he felt he needed to bow out.

Ritchie was right; I really had liked my time with the guys. One night a week we set aside the concerns of our offices, our patients, taxes, malpractice insurance and everything else. One night a week we simply had fun, enjoying one another and our game of Texas Hold'em.

I don't mean to brag, but I'm fairly good at cards. However, I cared far more about the camaraderie I had with the guys than taking their quarters.

I might not be a tournament-quality player, but I could generally count on beating my friends and feeling superior for a couple of minutes. Patrick, Steve and Ritchie used to say I was lucky.

I didn't feel so lucky when Hannah learned she had cancer.

I quit playing after she was diagnosed. I didn't feel I could leave her for even one night. Because the cancer hadn't been detected until she was at stage four, I knew we had a struggle ahead of us. Hannah knew it, too; otherwise, she would've protested me giving up my poker night.

I'm not going to say it wasn't hard to abandon the game and my time with these friends. They were my buddies, who knew me better than anyone, other than Hannah. Other than family. I wasn't sure why I hadn't gone back. Well, for one thing, Ritchie had found a replacement and it didn't seem fair to show up a year later and announce that I'd returned and Bill would have to leave. On the other hand, we could've played with five, and Ritchie had invited me more than once. I'd always declined; I had no real desire to play. After a few times, Ritchie had stopped asking. Until this morning.

"Will you come?" Ritchie pressed. "We need you, man."

"I don't know." The same reluctance filled me, even if I couldn't explain why I was avoiding something I'd once enjoyed so much.

"When will you know?" Ritchie demanded.

This sounded like a schoolyard conversation. "Soon," I said.

"Call me before two--otherwise, I'll get someone else."

Ritchie was upset, and that was rare for him. Hannah and her brother had the same easygoing disposition. My indecision irritated him and he had no qualms about letting me know that. If I could've told him why I felt so reluctant, I would have.