Weird to admit, but dressed in her scrubs, meeting me at the front door, Tayla is straight out of my best memories. After we split, I dreamed about her for months. Dreams so real I would wake disoriented, sure I didn't turn my life upside down over a phone call.

Maybe not just a phone call—a storm of circumstances weakening my resolve—making me second guess too much. If I could go back to that bathroom and grip my own shoulders, I'd look myself in the eyes and say, "Trust your gut," because my head wasn't leading me anywhere good.

"I brought your favorite fish and chips," I say, holding up the insulated bag.

"That's really far from here," she says, a small crease forming between her brows before she heads down the hallway.

"Hence the bag." I follow her back to her office.

While I unpack everything, she watches me, clearly wary. As I would have expected, her desk is free of clutter, and her textbooks are organized in neat, alphabetical rows on the shelf above.

"You woke up early, drove there, put the food in an insulated bag, and then came here?"

"It's not a big deal," I say, passing her the Styrofoam container with her portion in it. She said there wasn't a bridge between us for all that murky water to flow under. I intend to build it brick by brick, so strong that nothing can blow it up. If that means driving across town to do something for her I know she wouldn't do for herself, that's what I'll do.

"I haven't been here in a long time." Her brown eyes are full of curiosity. "Did you sleep yet?"

Being on midnights this week would normally mean I'd be passed out at home for six to eight hours with Rex curled up next to me. "A bit." I dump the ketch and utensils on the desk. "I'll go back to bed when I leave here. Go for a run with Rex before my shift."

"We didn't have to do lunch," she hedges, opening her container and sitting in one of the steel armed chairs.

I chuckle and pop a fry into my mouth. "Oh yes, we did." I wink. "Gotta eat, right? Why not together?"

She narrows her eyes as she cuts into a piece of crispy fish with her fork. "Well, then you didn't have to go to the other side of the city to get this. We could have eaten from the restaurant just down there." She points to her right in the direction of the health food shop.

"Oh, yeah? You're into eating that sort of thing now? I always find the salads from that chain are weird combinations, bordering on disgusting." I dip a piece of fish in my ketchup. "What's your favorite meal there? I've got two other Tuesdays."

She sucks her teeth and purses her lips. "Okay, truthfully, it's my least favorite place to eat. But it's convenient."

"Convenience sometimes has to trump taste." I grab another fry. "What's your favorite place to eat now?"

"I don't go out much." She keeps focused on her lap of fish and chips. "I work a lot, so, it's just as easy to grab something at home."

We eat in silence for a minute before I break it. "I've been burying myself in work a lot lately too. It's just easier, I guess, than having to think about why work is easier." My reusable water bottle is on the desk and I pop off the top. "While I'm being run ragged by emergency room patients, there's not a lot of time for thoughtful introspection." Up until now, that's been how I've liked it. Any time a girlfriend complained I worked too much; it wouldn't be long until we broke up.

When Tayla and I were together, I wanted a work life balance because being with her was better than anything else. Why had I ever thought that feeling might fade? This last week, she's been all I can think about. I've already rearranged shifts so I can meet our three dates a week commitment. No one can dump extra work on me.

"Thoughtful introspection," Tayla muses. "You did a lot of that before you worked so much?"

I pause with a bite halfway to my mouth, and I lower my fork back to my container. Our gazes connect and a heaviness settles between us. "Not enough," I say, my voice a rasp. "Not about the right things."

She breaks eye contact and reaches for the fridge beside her and withdraws some sweet tea with a shaky hand. "I'm surprised you work so much with Rex. That's one of the reasons I don't have a pet of my own. No time."

"I have a dog walker who comes at least once a day. I go for a run with him every day too. Sometimes I drop him off at the doggy daycare near the hospital." Tayla and I planned to raise him together. When that fell apart, I realized pretty quickly I had to find ways to take care of him, give him a good life, even if it wasn't the life we expected.

As though she reads my mind, she grows quiet before saying, "I'm glad he's gotten the care he deserves."

"Tayla, I—" The doorbell in her office sounds.

"Sorry," she says, dropping her lunch on the desk. "You think I'd learn to lock the door at lunch. Mike and Sandy are both out."

She hustles out the office door before I have a chance to say anything else. What was I going to say? I can't keep circling back to the past. I have to figure out a way to move us forward. After I've taken a few more bites, I begin to worry that Tayla isn't returning. She doesn't have any clients until one thirty and it's just one now. With a frown, I head down the hall and hear two voices talking in the front entrance. Tayla's is light and comforting, and the other is a deep masculine voice whose flirty tone sets me on edge.

"Saturday, then?" The guy, who is barely taller than Tayla, passes her a piece of paper. "It's a date?"

Her grin is filled with genuine amusement. "How could I say no?"

"That's what I like to hear," the guy says. His dark hair glints under the lights.

"Hey Tay," I say, stepping out into the customer waiting area. "Everything okay?"

She flushes and half turns toward me. "Yeah, fine."

"I'm Ciro." He reaches out a hand in my direction.

Before I can stop myself, I slide my hand into his. "Soulmate Simon."

Ciro gives Tayla a confused glance and then raises and eyebrow to me. "Is that some kind of band?"

"Not a band, no." I smother my grin, trying to seem as serious as possible. "Tayla's nickname for me. I think it's cute. Some guys might think it's nauseating, but I'm just glad she's so sure about us, you know?"

Tayla gasps and smacks me in the arm. "That's not true."

Ciro's gaze travels between the two of us while I give a shrug of what can you do and Tayla practically vibrates with anger.

"I don't know why he said that, it's not true." She subtly edges Ciro toward the exit.

"Pumpkin, I don't know why you're so embarrassed to admit our love. When we're alone—"

She whirls on me, her finger raised. "No."

Ciro's confusion is apparent, but he doesn't question me or Tayla on our behavior. "Saturday? We're good."

"Yes," she snaps out. "Yes," she says again, softer this time. "Sorry about him." She tosses a thumb in my direction. "He's poorly trained."

"Hopefully we won't have the same problem with the dogs we pick out." His shoulder grazes hers at the door.

"I have faith in our dog selection skills." She smiles at him and holds the door. Over her shoulder, our gazes connect. "I was really hoping to hook up with you—and your charity." She focuses on him again. "It's so great that you're giving back to the community in such a meaningful way."

"I'm trying," he says. "See you Saturday."

As soon as he's gone, Tayla closes the door with deliberate slowness. It's only then I realize my attempt to foil her flirtation might have been ill advised. Impulsiveness is definitely a weakness in my character.

"You are such an asshole," she grits out. "Why would you say those things to him?"

"Probably for the same reason you slid in that 'hook up' comment at the end."

She crosses her arms. "I didn't mean anything by that."

"Bullshit." I laugh. "Are you seriously seeing other people in the next three weeks when you're supposed to be giving me a chance?"

"Did you seriously think I wouldn't? I gave you a chance six years ago—two years worth of chances. You didn't say I had to give you my exclusive attention."

"Fine. We're exclusive for the next three weeks. I thought it was implied, but if I have to spell it out—"

She wags her finger at me. "That's not how contracts work, Si. We had a deal. Nothing was said about us only seeing each other for the next three weeks. Three dates a week for three weeks. That's the deal. Nothing more. Nothing less."

I stride back to her office, my brain ticking through the loophole that will probably sink me. She was so at ease with him, not wound tight as though one of us might detonate at any point. I toss a fry into my mouth and pace her office. She comes to the door and watches me.

She crosses her arms and leans her shoulder into the doorway. "Need a run?"

Whenever we got into a fight when we were dating, I went for a run. Cleared my head, got my feet back on the ground, and usually ended up agreeing with her. "Might help, yeah," I admit.

Lips pursed, she takes her food and sits down again. "So, we're just going to eat lunch like we didn't get in a huge fight?"

"Seems like. We gotta eat." I pop a piece of fish into my mouth but don't sit down. "I went across the city to get this." We eat in silence for a minute. "You still run?"

"Not like you." She picks at her fries and then cuts off another piece of fish. "I try to do a 5k race once in a while." A laugh escapes her. "You're going to find this funny, maybe. But I've really gotten into the Ninja Warrior courses. Not seriously, obviously. But I like the challenge."

I eye her petite figure. "Isn't it hard when you're so short?"

She throws a fry at me. "Hey now. I'm no weakling."

"I didn't say that. Just that—I've watched that show—height is an advantage."

"You'd probably be good at it," she admits.

I scoop the fry off the floor and toss it into the garbage can by the door. A tentative plan is forming in my mind for Sunday. Assuming she doesn't completely ditch me after her super date with Ciro on Saturday. Now, I just have to figure out Thursday's dinner date.

The doorbell rings again, and Tayla closes her container of food and slides it into the mini fridge where she got the sweet tea earlier. "Duty calls. You can finish eating before you go if you want."

I stare at her desk before sweeping up my container to leave. More sleep and a run might help clear my head. Although our conversation eased back into something resembling normal, my gut is still clenched, brimming with frustration. I told her I wouldn't ignore the past, but I can't help feeling like I'm not making enough headway.

Build the bridge, Simon. Just build the bridge.

⭐️ What do you think of Simon and Tayla so far? Leave me a comment to let me know. ⭐️

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