Six

“Dr. Peterson?” he asked, a tiny hesitation in his voice, as if he was not sure he had the right person.

“Yes,” she answered automatically, then mentally kicked herself for breaching Safety Rule Number One – Never give out your name to a stranger. She looked up at the man. He was solid, tall and well-built, wearing a leather jacket to ward off the spring chill. He had his hands in his pockets. Emily stopped and glanced back at the relative safety of the hospital and wondered if she would make it.

“I’m Trent. We met last night?” Again he hesitated.

Emily did a double take. This was the man who’d barged into her trauma room that night, demanding information on someone he had no business asking about? Tonight, he looked different. Or maybe it was that at the time, in a fog of adrenaline from running the case, and irritation at his apparent arrogance that made him seem different than the man standing before her now, addressing her formally, respectfully. She shook her head, and started to brush past him, heading toward her car.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, turning toward her car.

“Wait,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm, but letting his hand fall back to his side, as if he knew it would be dangerous to make contact.

She stopped, a few feet past him, but didn’t turn around. His voice had been quiet, contrite. She said nothing, waiting expectantly.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he said. Emily’s eyebrows arched involuntarily. An apology? This was the last thing she had expected.

“For what? For running over that girl?” she asked, turning to face him, her hands going to her hips in an unconscious gesture of defiance.

“Well, as a matter of fact, yes, I am. But I came to apologize to you,” he said, and dropped his chin to his chest.

“For what?” she asked again, straightening her shoulders.

“For putting you in such an awkward position. I know you can’t tell me anything… I was just so upset about the accident, I needed to make sure she was going to be okay,” he said.

Emily considered him. Out here, in the unflattering white glare from the street lamps, he looked much less like the arrogant rock star she’d thought him that night. He looked deflated, as if the apology took all his compunction to offer. She felt the tiniest glimmer of sympathy for the man. It was obvious he was worried about the girl.

“Thank you for your apology,” she said, and started walking toward her car.

He stepped toward her, and reached for her arm again. “Wait…” he said.

She stopped and turned again, looking expectantly at him.

“Could I buy you a cup of coffee?” Trent asked. Even in the unnatural light of the parking lot, Emily could see a scarlet blush creep up from his collar, and sensed how much that question cost him. God, she thought, what are you? Twelve?

She shook her head, as Thomas’s face flashed through her mind. “I don’t think so. I need to get home.”

He answered quickly. “Just a coffee. And I promise not to ask about the girl, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Emily looked at him. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of a baggy jacket and his collar was turned up against the brisk wind. His nose was pink from the cold. She wondered when he’s last been turned down, rock star that he was. Not exactly my type, she found herself thinking, followed closely by another guilty flash of Thomas. She started to shake her head again, but checked herself at the last moment. What the hell? she thought. I’m not expected home until six. Besides, it’s not every day you get the chance to meet a rock star. It’s just coffee.

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess,” she said.

“Great!” he grinned, and she got the immediate sense that he was genuinely delighted. “I’ll drive.”

Reluctant to hand over all control, Emily started to protest, until he moved to open the door for her. What the hell? she thought again. I’m exhausted. I’d probably drive us into a tree or something. What are the chances he’s really a serial killer anyway?

Trent turned to her as he started the car. “Maybe we could start fresh,” he said. “I’m Trent.” He held out a hand. Emily considered it. Okay, she thought. I’m open minded.

She shook it. “Emily,” she replied. His hand was warm and his grip firm. He put the car in gear.

They headed out of the parking lot. “Where to?” he asked. “I’m not from around here.”

“There’s an all-night coffee shop a few blocks down,” she said. She pointed in the direction, and they drove in silence the short distance.

They parked and went in. He chose a table at the back, and sat with his back to the door, and Emily realized he was worried about being recognized. He noticed her raised eyebrows, and grinned ruefully. “They find me everywhere,” he said apologetically. Sometimes I can enjoy a meal in peace if no one realizes it’s me.”

Emily shrugged and took the seat facing the restaurant. They settled in, took off coats, and there was an uncomfortable moment when each stared at the other without speaking, and another awkward moment when both started talking at once.

“So…” she said.

“What…” he said.

They laughed. “You go first,” he said, and the strange moment passed.

“I was just going to ask what you wanted to drink,” she said, indicating that she would go up to the counter and order for the two of them.

“Just a black coffee,” he said.

She stood and walked over to the counter. Different guy, she thought, reflecting on first impressions. So far tonight, she had had no sense whatsoever of the arrogance that had so put her off him the first time. Tonight, he was almost shy, certainly not as sure of himself. She wondered briefly if this was really the same man she’d met before, or if maybe her tired mind was playing tricks on her. She had to admit, though, whether she was on the verge of losing it or not, he was attractive, even if it was in a polished, slightly contrived way.

She carried the two coffees back and set them down at the table. He grinned at her, and there was a more appealing flash of the man she’d met the other night. “Thanks,” he said. “Pretty good deal for me, asking you out and then letting you buy.”

They laughed. “Hey, yeah,” she said. “I guess I was trying to keep you out of the public eye. You owe me two bucks.”

He made as if to reach for his wallet. “I’m kidding,” she squeaked, mortified at the thought of accepting anything from him.

He stopped. “I know. But I owe you one anyway. I’m buying next time,” he said.

Yeah, right, she thought. Like there’ll be a next time. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’ll be worth the two bucks to see the look on Sarah’s face when I tell her I had coffee with a rock star.” Emily laughed.

Trent joined her. “Sarah?” he asked.

“My girlfriend,” Emily said. “The nurse you met at the hospital today. She’s in love with you. I believe her exact words were ‘I’d leave my husband for him in a heartbeat’”. She grinned when she saw the blush creeping up his neck again.

“What?” she said with some surprise. “Surely you’ve heard that before.”

“Or variations on the theme, I suppose,” he replied, looking down into his coffee cup as if he could tell the future from the sludgy grounds in the bottom of the cup. “I’ve never been able to get used to it.”

“Get used to what?” Emily asked, genuinely interested but unable to keep the jokey tone from her voice. “The adoration? The slinky underwear tossed on stage? The women throwing themselves shamelessly at your feet?” She felt at once contrite when she saw the embarrassed expression on his glowing face.

He shrugged and glanced up at her, as if to judge exactly how much fun she was making of him. “I guess,” he said.

Emily looked at him silently, expectantly. “I’ve been doing this for ten years,” he finally admitted. “And I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of fans. All I want to do is sing. It’s all I ever wanted to do. It’s the only part of it I love. The rest, the tours, the interviews, the autographs, they’re all so I can sing.” He let his breath out in a rush and dropped his eyes to his cup again.

Emily didn’t speak for a moment. She considered herself a good judge of character, and was finding herself acutely embarrassed by what was rapidly becoming evident as a very wrong first impression. She changed the subject.

“I heard the song. ‘Some Day’. I really like it,” she said. He smiled and looked up, obviously grateful for the new track. She noted with interest the absolute greenness of his eyes, and, once she’d noticed, it was hard to look away from them, set as they were beneath dark curls and atop an angular, strong chin.

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s a fun one to do live.”

They chatted a bit about his line of work, and eventually the talk drifted to hers. “How long have you been a doctor?” he asked.

“About ten years. I did my residency at Forest Glen, and decided to stay when they offered me a job in the ER. I love it,” she replied.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he said, genuinely.

“Some days I don’t know either,” she smiled.

“You married?” he asked.

Emily hesitated half a heartbeat. Her defenses reared. None of your damn business, she thought. I am not going there. “No,” she said with finality. Case closed, inviting no further questions. Not technically a lie; rather, the truth, unembellished by circumstance and context of which he really needed to know nothing. “You?” she asked, mostly to be polite.

“Not anymore,” he said, regret evident in his voice. Subject closed. Not taking the bait, Emily thought. I do not want to hear about your divorce. I will not ask those questions for the sake of conversation.

After that, the conversation seemed to steer itself to safe, comfortable topics. Sports, politics. The general state of the world. Emily and Trent talked easily, on inane, irrelevant topics, interrupted occasionally by autograph-seeking fans, which he obliged with a self-conscious grin, until she happened to glance down at her watch. Two thirty a.m. “Holy crap,” she said with alarm. “I need to get going!” They finished their drinks and pushed back their chairs.
As they walked out, Emily could sense there was something that Trent wanted to say. They had enjoyed a pleasant evening, and she had to concede that, once she got over their unfortunate first meeting, there was something undeniably attractive about him. She felt a natural comfort in his presence. But the echoes of Thomas’s voice in her head overwhelmed the romantic pull, kept her from thoughts any more fanciful. Something fun to tell her friends, she thought, an evening with Trent Buchanan. Nothing more.

As they approached the car, Trent reached out and put his hand on her back as he unlocked the door and opened it for her. Okay, she thought. It’s time to admit my first impression was totally wrong about him. He’s quite the gentleman. She settled in and clipped her seatbelt on. He got in the driver’s side and started the car. They drove in companionable silence back to the hospital parking lot where Emily had left her car. As she reached for the door handle, Trent put his hand on her arm and turned to her, a serious look on his face.

“Look,” he said. “I really am sorry about the other night. I know I had no right to be in there. It was a bad judgment call.”

She looked at her hands folded in her lap. “Well, I have to offer an apology, too. When we met the other night, under those circumstances, I figured you would be a total jerk, and I acted on that assumption. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Emily glanced up, and saw him nod slowly. “Well, I was a jerk, but thank you. Apology accepted,” he said.

“Yours is, too,” Emily replied, and turned to get out of the car.

“Wait,” he said. She turned back.

“Do you want to trade phone numbers or email addresses or something?” he asked. “I’d like to talk to you again.”

Emily considered. She was careful with her personal information; she had an unlisted number, and seldom gave it out. Being a doctor in a small town was demanding enough without the entire town knowing exactly how to reach her at any hour. She had developed her privacy habit when the twins were little and a ringing phone inevitably woke one of them, to ill effect. Now she knew her pager number and email address better than her own telephone number, and felt more comfortable about releasing that public-domain information anyway.

“How about email? I work weird hours and it’s easier to get me that way,” she proposed, hoping it didn’t sound like a lame excuse. To her relief, he agreed instantly.

“I travel a bit, too,” he said, and they laughed together at the understatement. She typed his address into her PDA, thinking, hey, famous people use email too, and he scribbled hers on the back of a receipt he found in his pocket. She bet herself it would be lost inside of an hour.

A thought occurred to her. “Where do you live, anyway?” she asked.

“I have a place in Toronto, but I’m never there long enough to feel like I’m settled,” he said.
“I’ve lived there four years and only just used my stove this past Christmas.”

The laughed, and Emily said goodnight.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said, smiling.

“Thanks for the invite,” she replied, and got into her own car.

As Trent drove away, Emily waited for her car to warm up a bit before following him out of the lot. Wow, she thought, as fatigue caught up with her, like a freight train bearing down. That was actually fun. I haven’t done that in years.

She rolled down her window to let some of the chill spring air shock her awake, and flicked on the radio for the drive home. The song that blasted from the speakers was none other than ‘Some Day’. She smiled, singing along, and pictured the band’s singer. She was home almost before the song ended.