Marriage of Convenience Read Free Page A

begged off dessert. They said goodbye at the door, and he hadn’t seen her socially since. He’d heard via the hospital grapevine that she’d eloped with Mr. Phone a month later.
    He shuddered at the memory of two other less than stellar dates and instead focused on his latest experience, Sarah.
    Once a year the hospital opened its doors for a community holiday celebration. It coincided with Christmas, but in the spirit of openness and inclusion, the Board had determined to focus on snow as a theme rather than take on the daunting task of including every religiously significant symbol and potentially alienating or offending guests.
    Sarah, typically in the role of a nurse practitioner, had transformed into a snowflake princess for the benefit of the visiting children. Though he learned she’d been volunteered for the role by her supervising attendant, she played the role as though it had been her own idea. She introduced herself to the children, led them in songs and games, and took pictures with them for keepsakes. He remembered approaching her with a joke, lame to his own ears, but she’d laughed good-naturedly and introduced herself.
    They’d made eye contact across the room throughout the evening. Encouraged, Malcolm had waited for her in the lobby as the last guests were leaving. At the late hour he didn’t have many options, but he offered a late dinner at the diner two blocks over. Rubbing her stomach through her costume, she said she hadn’t had time to eat during the celebration and that she was starving. If he was willing to wait for her to change, she’d love to go. He would have waited for just about any length of time. Her eagerness had suckered him in, and he was excited.
    He found they both liked breakfast for dinner. The coffee had been mediocre, but they’d shared lively conversation. They agreed on books, cities they’d visited, and movies. As they left the diner, she said she wasn’t tired and didn’t feel like going home. She shared an apartment with two girls and, from time to time, their out of work boyfriends. Malcolm had suggested a late movie, and she’d placed her hand in his. They’d walked to Times Square. He couldn’t remember the name of the film, but he remembered the kiss that followed.
    She’d snuggled up to him during the movie, and he’d welcomed the contact. Not used to dating, he’d forgotten how warm it could be to simply sit close to someone. After the movie he had offered to walk her to the subway station. They’d analyzed the film on the walk. They’d held hands, and he’d marveled at his great choice of women. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. She insisted that he didn’t have to walk her below, and in saying goodbye, had taken both his hands in hers and leaned into him. Surprised, but eager, he’d held her weight in his hands and leaned down to her, eyes closed. Her lips had been soft and warm with just a hint of maple syrup left over from the diner pancakes she’d had earlier. It didn’t last long, but it had stirred in him a desire for more. She had pulled back and smiled sweetly, almost unwilling to meet his gaze. She had laughed lightly and said she’d see him the next day at work. He had said he looked forward to it.
    But he hadn’t seen her. Not the next day or the one after that. He didn’t have her number and felt desperate contacting her through hospital channels.
    He wondered now how he could have let that slip through his fingers. But of his most recent prospects, she was the most likely to be wife material.
    He straightened up and looked at the mess on his desk. When he didn’t have a full consultation or surgery schedule, Betty was always ready to unload some of the contents of her desk onto his. She had a stamp of his name, but even after six years together she was reluctant to use it. She wanted his eyes to see everything that could have legal consequences for either him or the hospital later. He knew she was right, but it increased his