settling himself behind the steering wheel.
“You have a life,” she reminded him, “and I’m no catch.”
Brady calmly started the car and began driving, mulling over her argument.
Amy stared out the passenger window, blinking back tears, even though she didn’t know why she was on the brink of crying.
“Why don’t you explain what you meant by that?” Brady suggested quietly.
Amy shook her head.
“C’mon,” he wheedled. “After all, I am spending my Saturday with you. That’s got to be worth something.”
Amy took a shaky breath, realizing she did owe him an explanation of sorts considering all he’d done for her. “You have a career and nice things and you probably play golf.”
“Hate golf,” he murmured.
Undeterred she pushed on. “And I work two jobs, both of which I hate, and live on the wrong side of town.”
“What’s your other job?”
“I’m a glorified clerk in a hospital. I spend my whole day accepting urine samples.”
“That does sound pretty crappy,” he commiserated.
“The point is our lives don’t fit together. We’re like two jigsaw pieces, but the problem is we’re from two different puzzles.”
“Given this a lot of thought, have you?”
“You haven’t?”
She could have kicked herself when he remained silent. Just because she’d spent half the night trying to figure out whether they had any kind of future together, didn’t mean he had.
Finally, he asked, “So what do you want to do if it’s not collect specimens and wait tables?”
“I want to finish school.”
“You said you weren’t a student,” he reminded her.
“I’m not currently enrolled in a higher learning institution.”
He chuckled. “But you were?”
“Yes.”
“Studying to be what?”
“A social worker,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Of course.”
“Of course?”
“Anyone who’d come to the aid an old lady getting mugged would have to choose a helping profession. Social work makes sense. Then again, so does superhero-ism.”
“That’s my secret job,” she joked.
He laughed and the sound thrilled her.
“So why’d you quit?” he asked.
“I developed an allergy to spandex,” she quipped quickly, wanting to keep him amused.
“No. Really. Why’d you quit?”
“My mom got sick.”
“I’m sorry. Was it…?” He trailed off uncomfortably.
Her former sense of elation evaporating as she remembered the struggle of her mother’s illness, her eyes once again filled with tears. “She died on my twentieth birthday.”
“How awful for you.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes until Brady asked, “You never went back to school?”
Amy laced her fingers in her lap and stared down at them. “I did, part time. I’ve actually only got one more class to take.”
“But you work two jobs and can’t fit it in?” he guessed.
“Something like that.” She thought about the funk Bea’s death had thrown her into. “I’m not supposed to be at the restaurant, but I’m trying to keep a promise I made.” Then realizing she sounded glum, she added with as much cheer as she could muster, “Then again, the extra money I’m making is helping me to keep another promise I made to my mom, so it will all work out in the end.”
Brady pulled the car into the parking lot of the building where he worked. “Ready to go find out what that letter of yours is really about?”
She hesitated, unsure if she was. “We could do this Monday. I think you’ve wasted enough on your Saturday on me. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”
His response was to push the button that unlatched her seatbelt. “I’m a big boy, Ms. Winn. I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to spend my time all by myself.”
“I didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful.”
He climbed out of the car, walked around to her side, and waited for her to emerge. “Scared?” he asked as they walked toward the entrance.
“Apprehensive.”
“I’ll help you with whatever it ends up
“You have a life,” she reminded him, “and I’m no catch.”
Brady calmly started the car and began driving, mulling over her argument.
Amy stared out the passenger window, blinking back tears, even though she didn’t know why she was on the brink of crying.
“Why don’t you explain what you meant by that?” Brady suggested quietly.
Amy shook her head.
“C’mon,” he wheedled. “After all, I am spending my Saturday with you. That’s got to be worth something.”
Amy took a shaky breath, realizing she did owe him an explanation of sorts considering all he’d done for her. “You have a career and nice things and you probably play golf.”
“Hate golf,” he murmured.
Undeterred she pushed on. “And I work two jobs, both of which I hate, and live on the wrong side of town.”
“What’s your other job?”
“I’m a glorified clerk in a hospital. I spend my whole day accepting urine samples.”
“That does sound pretty crappy,” he commiserated.
“The point is our lives don’t fit together. We’re like two jigsaw pieces, but the problem is we’re from two different puzzles.”
“Given this a lot of thought, have you?”
“You haven’t?”
She could have kicked herself when he remained silent. Just because she’d spent half the night trying to figure out whether they had any kind of future together, didn’t mean he had.
Finally, he asked, “So what do you want to do if it’s not collect specimens and wait tables?”
“I want to finish school.”
“You said you weren’t a student,” he reminded her.
“I’m not currently enrolled in a higher learning institution.”
He chuckled. “But you were?”
“Yes.”
“Studying to be what?”
“A social worker,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Of course.”
“Of course?”
“Anyone who’d come to the aid an old lady getting mugged would have to choose a helping profession. Social work makes sense. Then again, so does superhero-ism.”
“That’s my secret job,” she joked.
He laughed and the sound thrilled her.
“So why’d you quit?” he asked.
“I developed an allergy to spandex,” she quipped quickly, wanting to keep him amused.
“No. Really. Why’d you quit?”
“My mom got sick.”
“I’m sorry. Was it…?” He trailed off uncomfortably.
Her former sense of elation evaporating as she remembered the struggle of her mother’s illness, her eyes once again filled with tears. “She died on my twentieth birthday.”
“How awful for you.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes until Brady asked, “You never went back to school?”
Amy laced her fingers in her lap and stared down at them. “I did, part time. I’ve actually only got one more class to take.”
“But you work two jobs and can’t fit it in?” he guessed.
“Something like that.” She thought about the funk Bea’s death had thrown her into. “I’m not supposed to be at the restaurant, but I’m trying to keep a promise I made.” Then realizing she sounded glum, she added with as much cheer as she could muster, “Then again, the extra money I’m making is helping me to keep another promise I made to my mom, so it will all work out in the end.”
Brady pulled the car into the parking lot of the building where he worked. “Ready to go find out what that letter of yours is really about?”
She hesitated, unsure if she was. “We could do this Monday. I think you’ve wasted enough on your Saturday on me. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”
His response was to push the button that unlatched her seatbelt. “I’m a big boy, Ms. Winn. I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to spend my time all by myself.”
“I didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful.”
He climbed out of the car, walked around to her side, and waited for her to emerge. “Scared?” he asked as they walked toward the entrance.
“Apprehensive.”
“I’ll help you with whatever it ends up
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