“Oh, God, no!” she replied, twirling toward him again. “I’m a big girl now, Mike. I’ll handle it.”

“Sometimes, honey, an interception’s in order. At other times, getting to the end zone simply takes a lot of running plays, a lot of zig-zagging.”

She inhaled. “I get it. But you can’t reach the end zone if you don’t trust your players.”

Chapter 4

Doug signed a one-year lease for a studio apartment on Devonshire Street, in the downtown area of the city. It might or might not be near Jennifer’s place—he had no idea exactly where she lived but was content with his choice. Not far from both the theater and university.

On Sunday morning, Evie had stopped by as he unloaded his clothes, computer and books from his car, making several trips inside with his arms full. It was good to have his own place again, and even though his sister’s hug had felt extra-strong a little while ago, he was sure she felt the same. In her scrubs and white jacket, she’d looked every inch a physician.

“The folks are very proud of you, Eve. I can just hear Dad saying ‘my daughter, the doctor.’” His grin was warm with his own pride.

She shrugged. “I suppose. But I just wish—” She shook her head.

“Forget it, Evie. He’s not going to boast about his son, the writer. Been there, done that, with our parental units. I’m over it.”

“But you’re so smart. Your work is so good. A full-length play and a one-act on Broadway, and now you’re here with something new to work on. I just don’t understand them, and I’m sorry.”

He wrapped his younger sister in his arms. “It doesn’t matter. Writing is who I am. Sometimes, getting it exactly right drives me nuts, but… in the end, I love it.”

Her smile reassured him. “I love my work too,” Eve said. “Not so crazy about the hours, though.”

“It’s the love part that counts more. Trust me. If you’re going to spend your whole life doing something, be sure it makes you happy.”

“Good advice, Doug. I’m so glad you’re back.” She gave him a quick kiss and left for the hospital.

He could have done worse than having Eve as a sister. They’d forged a better relationship since they’d grown up and moved away from home. He hung up the last of his shirts and ran down the two flights to the ground floor, out the front door of the building and smack into Jennifer Delaney.

“Wow. How lucky can one man get? Do you actually live in this building?”

“You’re not that lucky, kiddo. I’m up about two blocks, but you’ve got a great coffee shop on your corner.” She held up her large to-go cup and continued to walk.

“No time for a friend?”

“I’ve got a busy day.”

“Will every day be too busy for us?”

That stopped her. She turned slowly toward him, her brow furrowed, eyes shadowed. “There is no ‘us’ anymore. You were gone for a long time.”

“It was a five-year residency, Jen.”

She nodded. “Five years in two separate worlds. I know circumstances were lousy, but life went on, and we owe each other nothing. Couples break up every day. Let’s say we each had a clean slate after the visits stopped and phone calls became fewer. A clean slate after you were gone for a while.

“Figured it all out, huh? As easy as that.” He snapped his fingers.

“I didn’t say it was easy,” she protested. “But I’m not going backward.”

He could live with that. But she’d given him an opening that he wasn’t going to ignore. “Then how about starting over? As you said, the slate’s clean.”

##

Whew! If he weren’t so sincere—and cute—at the same time. If his eyes didn’t implore, if he didn’t sound as though the future of civilization depended on her response…. And his mouth—she loved his mouth.

“My imagination isn’t as good as yours. I can’t simply forget the past.”

“Then put it in a box on a high closet shelf out of the way. Examine it from time to time if you have to, but don’t let it be a barricade now.”

What a picture. “I keep forgetting…”

“Forgetting what?”

“…how good you are with words.”

“Normally, I’d say thanks. But somehow, I’m not taking that as a compliment right now.”

Her building was just ahead, and she glanced at her watch. “I want to visit Lisa and the baby. Then hit the books.”

“Going for an MBA?”

“Already have it. But I’ve got in-house training this week and want to be prepared. My career means a lot to me, and I don’t want to screw it up.”

His eyes shone, and a grin appeared. “Henny-Penny, I’ve always had full confidence in you and still do. You are one smart lady, and I’m sure you’ll be fully prepared.’”

Startled, she stepped back. “Thanks, I guess. But I don’t take anything for granted. I’ve worked hard. Frankly, I’m terrified of failing.”

She heard his “whoa,” and then silence settled around them.

“Terrified is a strong word,” said Doug.

“A true word. I want to make my parents proud of me.”

“I think,” Doug said slowly, “that might be overkill.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice rising in defense. “Because they’re gone?”

“Not at all.” He stepped closer and framed her face in his hands. “I’m twenty-eight years old and have two shows running in New York at the same time.

That’s rare—very rare—and my folks could care less. So, what does their approval mean in the end? Nothing. You go after your dreams because inside, you know it’s the right path.”

“I like numbers,” she whispered. “Always have. And that liking morphed into a dream career with a world-renowned investment firm.”

“I know. And numbers give me a rash.”

She smiled. He’d always been able to make her laugh. Seemed he still could.

And maybe that was not a small thing.