Jean-Claude scratches his jaw and glances off. “Oh, they have lots of history. Since childhood. Juliet swears she’s been saving her for someone good—the right person. She thinks you’re it.”

“And she believes this woman will want me? How does she even know who suits me?”

Jean-Claude makes a very French noise in the back of his throat before having another drink of coffee. “I don’t think you know who suits you. And don’t say Lauren, she was terrible.”

“She was exactly right. I mean, not her specifically, but her type. Organized. Even-keeled. In my profession—”

“Yes, yes.” He waves his hand. “I know how boring you are about this. You think you need someone just like you, but you don’t, West. You need someone who knocks you on your ass.”

“That sounds terrible.”

He sighs, standing with his coffee. “As long as I’ve known you, all you’ve done is play it safe. Try something new. See where it takes you. Even if . . .” He grins wickedly. “Even if it’s just to work out some frustration, eh? It can be as much or as little as you want.”

Halfway down the hall, he turns and says, “Oh. And . . . she likes chess. So, that’s something.”

Damn. I can’t entirely dismiss a prospective date with a woman who likes chess. Groaning, I stare down at the number.

And when I settle in at the office thirty minutes later to prepare for the day, I’m still staring at that number. Sipping my green tea, I read through the first few patient charts of the day and try to avoid it.

But then I glance at my phone again, contemplating messaging her.

It’s a text. Just a text.

But it feels like so much more. It feels like I’m about to step out of my Groundhog Day life and risk introducing something new. Am I ready for that?

For nearly a year, life’s been a blur of sameness, which isn’t the downer Jean-Claude says it is, not to me. I love sameness and routine. And yet, maybe Jean-Claude’s not entirely wrong, either. Maybe I have played it a little too safe. Lately I’ve felt the depth of my days’ predictability wearing thin. Life’s begun to feel a tad empty, a bit washed-out.

Perhaps I am a little lonely.

Even if I don’t know precisely where texting this Addie might take me, I realize I do want to explore it.

Try something new, Jean-Claude said. See where it takes you.

I take a deep breath and type.

· SEVEN ·

Bea

Halfway through this quiet Monday morning, my phone buzzes.

I glance up from my sketch pad and read it.

NRB: Why do chess players use dating apps in Prague?