Chapter 13 - THE MAN WHO NEVER ASKED ME TO SHRINK
Lucas arrived at the coffee shop five minutes early.
I knew because I arrived ten minutes early.
Apparently, neither of us had learned how to relax.
He stood when I approached.
“Rebecca.”
“Lucas.”
He smiled.
“No lawyers.”
“No invoices.”
“No surprise hotel receipts.”
He laughed.
“That's a low bar for a successful date.”
I stopped.
“Date?”
His smile faded slightly.
“I was hoping.”
I looked at him.
Then I smiled.
“Okay.”
We ordered coffee.
And for two hours, we talked about almost everything except Owen and Camille.
Lucas told me about growing up in Racine.
About his father teaching him carpentry.
About his first construction job, when he accidentally installed an entire row of cabinets two inches too low.
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my coffee.
He asked about nursing.
I told him about my first night in the ICU.
The terror of being responsible for people who couldn't protect themselves.
The pride of learning how.
The strange tenderness of helping strangers through their worst days.
He listened.
Really listened.
He didn't interrupt to explain how his work was similar.
He didn't turn every story into one about himself.
When I finished, he said, “You must have been very good at it.”
I looked down.
“I was.”
“Then I'm glad you're doing it again.”
Something warm moved through my chest.
It wasn't fireworks.
It wasn't instant certainty.
It was the unfamiliar feeling of being seen without having to prove my value.
After coffee, we walked beside the river.
The air smelled like rain.
Lucas stopped near a bench.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Are you ready for this?”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“Whatever this might become.”
I appreciated the question.
“I don't know.”
He nodded.
“That's fair.”
I continued.
“I like spending time with you. But I don't want either of us to mistake relief for love.”
He looked thoughtful.
“Neither do I.”
“And I don't want to become someone's escape from a painful marriage.”
He smiled gently.
“Rebecca, I have no interest in escaping my life.”
“Good.”
“I want to build one I actually like.”
I looked toward the river.
“Me too.”
He held out his hand.
Not demanding.
Not assuming.
Just offering.
I took it.
We walked another twenty minutes.
Nothing dramatic happened.
No passionate declaration.
No promise of forever.
And somehow, it was one of the most romantic afternoons of my life.
Over the following months, we took things slowly.
Dinner.
Walks.
A baseball game where neither of us understood why the people behind us were shouting.
He met Megan.
She interrogated him over lasagna.
He survived.
I met his sister, a middle-school teacher who immediately informed me that Lucas had once cried during a dog-food commercial.
He denied it.
She produced witnesses.
I laughed until my stomach hurt.
Eventually, Lucas kissed me.
It happened outside my apartment after a quiet dinner.
He brushed a strand of hair away from my face.
“Can I?”
I nodded.
The kiss was gentle.
Unhurried.
And when he stepped back, he smiled.
“Worth waiting for.”
I rested my forehead against his.
“Yes.”
For the first time, a relationship wasn't asking me to disappear into someone else's ambitions.
I was still Rebecca.
A nurse.
A sister.
A woman who liked dark coffee, terrible mystery novels, and driving with the windows down.
May you like
And Lucas seemed to like all of her.
Not just the parts that made his life easier.
