I followed her out, taking a seat on a bench that belonged to the café next door.

“In all seriousness,” Shannon said, “Are you sure you just don’t want to go in and meet him for yourself and just have me watch you guys from afar? I think that’s how most people usually do these things ...”

“I’m sure. I want you to check him out first.”

“Okay, then.” She shrugged and made her way up the steps, skipping everyone in line with relative ease.

Minutes later, she called my phone.

“Yeah?” I answered. “Do you see him?”

“Not yet, but wow ... This place really is nice. How come we’ve never booked a reservation here for ourselves?” She paused. “Never mind. I just glanced at the menu. Three hundred twenty-five dollars for the chef’s special? Per person? These people are out of their damn minds ...”

“It’s a five-star restaurant, Shannon.”

“Right ... Which table did D-DOCTOR say he’d be waiting for you again?”

“Twelve.”

“Okay, that’s in the back.” She paused for a while and I heard the sound of several glasses clink in the background. “I think I see him. He’s looking at his phone.”

“Is he attractive?”

“I can’t tell yet, but he’s clenching his jaw for some reason. He also fills out a suit quite nicely.”

As if she could already tell what was running through my mind, she didn’t give me a single second to ask another question before listing out the details.

“His suit is dark grey,” she said. “And it looks like its custom-made. From the way it fits his body, I’m pretty sure he has to work out. Also, blue silk tie — designer probably, sparkling silver cufflinks, and perfectly shined leather wingtip shoes. Is this the part where I walk up to him and ask if he’s a serial killer?”

“No, but I appreciate the fact that you remembered.” I let out a sigh of relief, feeling hopeful that one of the men I’d met online might finally live up to all our conversations. I started to head into the restaurant, ready to tell Shannon she could hang up, but I heard her suck in a deep breath and stopped dead in my tracks.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Shan, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Her voice was low. “He just looked up at me.”

“Okay, well ...” I stepped into the restroom instead of moving into the dining room. “What does he look like?”

“He’s sexy as fuck.”

“You can do better than that. Describe him.”

“Um ...” She sighed, never a good sign. “He’s got jet black hair, deep blue eyes, and he got that whole ‘I can make you pregnant with one look’ thing going on.”

“And on a scale of one to ten?” I glanced at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, adjusting the top of my dress one last time. “What is he?”

“He’s a goddamn fifty,” she said. “But you know, he kind of reminds me of that picture of your boss you showed me on the way here.”

“Dr. Ashton?” I rolled my eyes. “Please. I don’t have to deal with seeing him again until I start my residency.”

“Well, if you’re not interested in seeing your boss until you start your residency, stay outside because I’ve walked past him five times and I’m pretty sure the guy you call D-DOCTOR is Dr. Ashton.”

What the fuck? I stepped out of the restroom and slowly made my way to the dining room, grabbing a menu and holding it up to my face as I walked to the backroom.

I stepped behind a floral display as he looked up again, as he checked his watch and clenched his jaw.

Oh. My. Fucking. God ...

I didn’t want to believe it, but it was undoubtedly him. And all of sudden, everything he’d messaged me about over the past few months added up and made perfect sense. The late night claims of reading over his nurses’ reports, the need to correct me with “I’m a fucking doctor” each time I jokingly called him a “maybe intern,” and the very username D-DOCTOR itself.

He wasn’t making anything up at all ...

“I can’t do this.” I whispered into the phone. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“Go over there and have a laugh with him about this since you just saw each other a couple hours ago. That’s what I would do.”

I contemplated that scenario for all of two seconds before shooting down the idea. I’d told this man my filthiest fantasies, casually told him about my desire to be fucked until I couldn’t breathe, and I was not about to let him know that the same woman who once told him all the ways I used my vibrator was his new resident.

I watched him for a few more minutes — partly unable to turn away from how sexy he was, partly still in utter disbelief. When he looked down at his watch again, I turned around and quickly walked away.

“Let’s go, Shannon,” I said. “We’re leaving.” I ended the call and made my way outside. I paced the sidewalk as I contemplated my next move, and then I felt my phone vibrating in my hands. Dr. Ashton.

I stared at my phone’s screen as it rang, as it finally went to voicemail.

He called again.

And again.

Shit ...

I hovered my finger over the ignore button, tempted to let this night die and act as if I’d never met him at all, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hello. Did you forget about meeting me tonight?”

“Not at all ...”

“Then should I assume that you’re running late?”

God, his voice ... “No, um. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry for what?”

“That I can’t — That I’m not coming to meet you tonight.”

He was silent for several seconds. “I think I deserve an explanation from you, at the very least.”

“I just can’t come,” I said, swallowing. “But I want you to know that I have a really good reason for not showing up. I promise.”

“Then tell me what that goddamn reason is, since you’re doing exactly what you said you wouldn’t do by standing me up.”

“You just have to believe me on this ... It’s a really good reason.”