The news was good. Mrs. Cavanaugh had tolerated the surgery well, and the cardiologist was certain she would make a full recovery. As soon as the doctor walked off, Evan grabbed me in a hug, and I held him while he cried tears of relief. He was allowed to see his mother for a couple of minutes in the ICU ward before visiting hours were over.

“Let’s get out of here and celebrate with street tacos,” he said. “I know you didn’t get to finish your lunch today, and you must be starving.” My stomach answered him with a loud growl, making us both laugh.

I normally didn’t make a point of going somewhere with a virtual stranger, but for some reason, I felt entirely comfortable with Evan Cavanaugh. Maybe it was his vulnerability or his obviously gentle nature. I wasn’t sure, but I hopped in his Mercedes, and he drove us to an area with several different food trucks a few minutes from the hospital.

We sat at a picnic table near the trucks and gorged ourselves on chips, salsa, and tacos. “Hey, we’re officially on our first date,” he said with a smile, and I squirmed uncomfortably on my bench seat.

“Um, Evan. You’re a really nice guy and all—”

He leaned forward over the table, and I thought for a moment that he was going to kiss me. Hell, please, no. But he just spoke close to my ear. “You don’t have to worry about me like that, Blaire. I bat for the other team.” He sat back and searched my face for any sign of disapproval, but finding none, he gave me a tentative smile. Oh, thank God. He was gay. “But I’ll be an excellent friend who I hope you can feel comfortable with,” he said.

“That’s exactly what I need in my life right now, Evan,” I told him, returning his smile. “I haven’t met many people here yet. I already feel comfortable with you, and you’re a lot less grumpy than my brother.”

Evan laughed and then lifted his glass to his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want a margarita, Blaire? They’re really good.”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted, making Evan only the third person I had told besides my doctor.

He glanced automatically down at my belly, which was still pretty flat, and then back to my face. “Well, congratulations. That Beau that you called earlier… is that your husband?”

“No, that’s my brother. I’m not married,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly. Then the whole story came gushing out of my mouth as Evan listened sympathetically. I didn’t tell him Axel’s name because he was kind of famous now that he was going into the NFL.

“Aw, crap, Blaire. I’m so sorry. He sounds like a total jerk.”