The food really is good, but the last thing I need is for either of these two to want to come back here. “It was okay,” I say.

He pays for our meals, of course, and then insists we walk my mother to her car. I can already tell she’ll be calling me about him tonight, simply by the prideful look on her face.

Once she’s gone, Ryle walks me to my car.

“I requested an Uber so you wouldn’t have to go out of your way to take me home. We have approximately . . .” He looks down at his phone. “One and a half minutes to make out.”

I laugh. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck first, and then my cheek. “I would invite myself over, but I have an early surgery tomorrow and I’m sure my patient would appreciate it if I didn’t spend the majority of the night inside you.”

I kiss him back, both disappointed and relieved he’s not coming over. “I have a grand opening in a few days. I should probably sleep, too.”

“When’s your next day off?” he says.

“Never. When’s yours?”

“Never.”

I shake my head. “We’re doomed. There’s just too much drive and success between the two of us.”

“That means the honeymoon phase will last until we’re eighty,” he says. “I’ll come to your grand opening Friday and then the four of us will go out and celebrate.” A car pulls up beside us and he wraps his hand in my hair and kisses me goodbye. “Your mother is wonderful, by the way. Thank you for letting me come to dinner.”

He backs away and climbs inside the car. I watch as it pulls out of the parking lot.

I have a really good feeling about that man.

I smile and turn toward my car, but throw a hand up to my chest and gasp when I see him.

Atlas is standing at the rear of my car.

“Sorry. Wasn’t trying to scare you.”

I blow out a breath. “Well, you did.” I lean against the car and Atlas stays where he is, three feet away from me. He looks out at the street. “So? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“He’s . . .” My voice falters. This is all so weird. My chest is still constricted and my stomach is flipping, and I can’t tell if it’s leftover nerves from kissing Ryle or if it’s the presence of Atlas. “His name is Ryle. We met about a year ago.”

I instantly regret saying we met that long ago. It makes it sound like Ryle and I have been dating that long and we aren’t even officially dating. “What about you? Married? Have a girlfriend?”

I’m not sure if I’m asking to extend the conversation he started, or if I’m genuinely curious.

“I do, actually. Her name is Cassie. We’ve been together almost a year now.”

Heartburn. I think I have heartburn. A year? I place my hand on my chest and nod. “That’s good. You seem happy.”