Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO NEVER ASKED HER TO WAIT
Nathaniel and I began having coffee.
Then lunch.
Then long walks beside Lady Bird Lake.
We talked about ordinary things.
His work.
My patients.
Our families.
The books we loved.
The places we wanted to visit.
One evening, Nathaniel told me about his wife.
Her name had been Laura.
She'd died four years earlier after a sudden illness.
He spoke gently.
Without drama.
Without asking for sympathy.
I listened.
Then said:
“I'm sorry.”
He nodded.
“Thank you.”
We sat quietly for a while.
Then Nathaniel looked at me.
“I don't want you to feel rushed.”
I smiled faintly.
“Rushed?”
He nodded.
“You've been through a lot.”
I looked down.
He continued.
“And I'm not looking for someone to fill a space.”
My eyes filled.
“I don't want to be someone's replacement.”
Nathaniel smiled sadly.
“Neither do I.”
That night, he walked me to my car.
He hesitated.
“Can I kiss you?”
My heart raced.
For a moment, I thought about Everett.
The wedding.
The humiliation.
Then I looked at Nathaniel.
He was waiting.
Not assuming.
Not demanding.
Just asking.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
He kissed me gently.
And for the first time in months, I felt something warm instead of broken.
When I got home, Kelsey called.
“Well?”
I laughed.
“What?”
“Did he kiss you?”
I covered my face.
“Kelsey.”
She screamed.
“Oh, my God!”
I laughed harder.
“Stop.”
She grinned through the phone.
“Was it good?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
Kelsey sighed dramatically.
“Finally.”
But I wasn't ready to rush into another relationship.
Nathaniel understood.
May you like
He never demanded more than I could give.
And slowly, that patience became one of the things I loved most about him.
