bakery that I had likely passed every day but never noticed. The scent of chocolate immediately filled my nose, and she wheeled me up to the counter, which showcased every flavor of cupcake imaginable.
“What can I get you?” a young woman asked from the other side of the glass.
“We’ll have an Oreo cupcake and a peanut butter one. We’ll also take two coffees—one black, the other with a pump of vanilla and cream.”
This was the first time a woman had ever ordered for me, and Whitney had gotten every bit correct.
I reached over the chair, gripping her fingers when I found them. “I don’t have my wallet on me.”
“Don’t be silly.” She laughed. “This is my treat.”
She paid and set the box on my lap along with the cup carrier and pushed us to a bench outside, where she sat on the edge next to my chair.
“Mmm,” I groaned after the first bite. “This is excellent.”
“I did some research, and this is the highest-rated bakery in the Back Bay.”
“You treat your desserts like patients.”
She laughed, licking the frosting off her lip. “My God, you have to try this; it’s heavenly.”
She held the cupcake in front of me, and I leaned forward to bite it.
“You weren’t kidding.” The richness of the peanut butter made my mouth water. “Your turn.”
Her lips surrounded the Oreo, eyes widening as she took in the taste. “Wow, I did good.”
I took a drink of the dark roast and caught the leaves dancing on the branches across from us, the glass facades of the high-rises shimmering from the sun. Previously, I would have been chained to my desk, inhaling lunch between meetings, my phone incessantly ringing, my employees coming in and out of my office. I wouldn’t have made time to come here.
Cupcake dates had had no part in life.
“Thank you,” I said to her. “I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed this.”
“It’s like a nice, hot shower. The outdoors makes you feel alive again.”
I stared at her profile, the gusts moving small pieces of hair into her face. “That depends on who’s bathing you.” I reached across the armrest, placing my hand on her leg. “And who’s sitting next to you.”
She smiled. “That matters too, of course.” She threw our trash away since we’d finished eating and got behind me, taking me in the opposite direction of my building. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about our talk last night.”
“And?”
“I would miss nursing if it wasn’t in my life. I love caring for people, but I don’t want my job to look the same as it was. I need change, and it’s time to embrace that.”
My back wouldn’t let me turn all the way around, so glancing across my shoulder was as far as I got. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“Don’t give me that much credit. I haven’t figured anything out, but there are a few ideas tugging at me.”
“You’ll piece it together.”
“I hope …” Her voice trailed off, the wheelchair stopping. “Shit! Caleb, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize where I was headed. I’ll take us home right now.”
I looked straight ahead, our location not hitting me until my eyes fell over the familiar landmarks.
The finish line.
It felt like hands were wrapped around my goddamn throat, the emotion making my whole body ache, my hands trembling as they circled the armrests.
“No, don’t.” As I scanned the area, my mind went back to April 15, the day I had walked so freely down this same sidewalk while thoughts of Dubai filled my head. “I want you to take me closer.”
“Are you sure?”
We were only two blocks from where it had happened. Even though the setup was long gone, I could see it all so vividly in my mind.
“Yes.”
She still didn’t move. “You don’t have to do this. We can come back on a different day and—”
“It’s okay.” I found her hand again, sliding our fingers together, forcing myself to take several deep breaths. “Facing it isn’t going to prevent me from getting stronger.”
Her lips were close to my cheek, and she gently kissed it. “A wise man once told me that you have to put yourself in uncomfortable situations. That’s the only way you’re going to grow.”
I shook her fingers, letting her know I was ready, and as she led us closer, my brain played out the moments from that day. The weightlessness I’d felt in my legs as I walked, the crowd I had weaved my way through, the picture I had