Cursive - By Phoebe Lane Page 0,19

and reaching for her hand to guide her out the door. "Can I call you Doc from now on?"

"Not if you expect me to answer," she said in singsong. "Although I have to say it beats 'babydoll.'"

"Okay, how about 'babydoc'?" Aislynn laughed in response, closing the door behind her.

"So I did my research. This place uses coffee beans from a roaster in Austin, Texas, and their barista just won one of the international competitions," Jace said as they walked into the coffee shop.

"You sure know how to impress a girl."

"Just you. I only want to impress you."

"Well, it's working." Her attention suddenly shifted to an item on the dessert display. "Is that buttermilk pie? Oh my God, this is like coffee shop porn," Aislynn said, closing her eyes in delight.

"I'll take two slices for here, and whole pie to go, please," Jace said to the server after clearing his throat.

They had their espressos and pie and then headed to the restaurant. It was located in a back alley that housed several small bistros, some of them with patio tables. The restaurant was small, limiting seating to fifteen tables at the most.

"This place is beautiful. But where are the menus?" she whispered.

"There are none. The chef prepares a new menu daily, using only local produce and ingredients that are in season. There're usually two main entrees you can pick from. I've been here several times, and I've loved every single thing he's made. I really think you'll enjoy it."

"That sounds great," Aislynn said as the waiter approached their table and described the available entrées.

Dinner was fantastic. They talked all night, up until their waiter politely reminded them the kitchen was closing. The conversation seamlessly continued as they walked hand in hand out of the restaurant.

"Why did you stop practicing medicine?" he asked, once they were inside his car and on their way back home.

"That's a simple question with a very complicated answer," she said, giving herself some time to think of her explanation. "I graduated two years early because my mom let me skip first grade, and I was a total nerd in high school—what?" she asked when he started laughing.

"I’m sorry. I just can't picture you as a nerd."

"Oh, I still am. Anyway, I started college when I was sixteen. I finished premed when I was nineteen, med school at twenty-three, and residency at twenty-seven. I've been in school my whole life without a break."

"Damn, that's eleven years," he said in amazement and she nodded.

"When I finished my residency, one of the attending physicians who used to supervise me offered me a position in his group practice. He wanted to cut down his hours at the office to do more hospital work, and I had always wanted to go into private practice. I immersed myself in the job and really enjoyed it in the beginning, but later realized I was really exhausted from going nonstop for so long."

Aislynn took a deep breath before continuing. "During my residency, I was also in a long-term relationship, and that ended a little over a year after I joined the group. I just felt like it was the perfect opportunity for me to take a break and try something new…somewhere else."

Jace’s curiosity was immediately spiked. How long is long-term? What happened? Who ended it? This girl sure knows how to be vague.

"What about your family? I remember you said your dad passed away."

"Yeah. He was my biggest supporter," Aislynn said, and paused. "My mom is a bit harder to deal with and incredibly difficult to please. She's not happy I left home, but I needed to do what was right for me at the time."

"Well, I’m glad you ended up here," he said with a smile and a squeeze of her hand.

"What about your family?" she asked.

"They're all crazy. You would have a field day with them," he said, loving the way her laugh echoed inside the car. "Just kidding. Let's see, you already know about my dad. My younger brother, Alex, is his CFO. My mom used to be a teacher, but she retired a few years ago to start a charity organization with my sister-in-law."

"What kind of charity?"

"It's for kids with terminal illnesses. Because of my mom's past involvement in the schools, she's able to identify school-aged children who get diagnosed with a chronic or terminal condition. Some of these kids' parents have to stop working, or sometimes even lose their jobs, because of all the time they spend with them in