Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“How come you haven’t talked to her at the hospital?”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to mix work and pleasure.”
“We live in a small town. You either mix or you date in another town. And you’re too busy to date anyone from anywhere else.”
“I know.” He sighs. “Okay, so what do I do?”
“Compliments. All the time,” I tell him. “Tell her how nice it is to see her. Smile. Do whatever magic you used when you started dating my wife.”
“She wasn’t your wife,” he says sternly.
“Semantics.” I brush his comment away. “You need to sell yourself. Nick Ashford, single dad, doctor, football coach . . .”
“Chicks dig a coach,” Noah says as he sets fresh pints down. Nick and I both glare at him and he turns away.
“Dating used to be easy.”
“Life used to be easy,” I say.
Nick tears apart the napkin he has, shredding it into little pieces. “Fine, the next time I see her, I say what?”
“Compliment,” I remind him.
He sighs and clears his throat. “I noticed you hum when you read. You don’t know that you do it. I like it though.”
For the next hour, we practice different lines, things he can say to show he’s interested, and how he can talk to her without coming across as a parent whining about a duty he’s been assigned.
“It’s all about batting those eyelashes and making her think you’re irresistible.”
“Uh, huh, sure,” he says as he drinks from his pint glass.
That night I go back on the air.
“You’re on The Love Line.”
“Hi,” the older male voice says. “It’s my son. He used to tell me everything. Now I get one word at a time.”
“How old is your son?”
“He’s fifteen.”
I glance at Paige who smirks. “That’s what they do at that age,” I tell him. “They go quiet on everybody. The trick is to be in the room doing something else when he decides to talk, so it’s easy for him to start. Fix a car. Do the dishes. Be around and be boring. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Don’t chase him. Leave the door open and wait. Think back to when you were a teen, how were you with your parents. Everything is fine, okay, yep, whatever. It’s a stage. They come out of it eventually.”
“You’re on The Love Line.”
“Hey, Liam.” It’s a man, and he takes a second to get to his question. “I want to go back to school. I’m no kid, and my grown children keep telling me it’s a midlife crisis. Am I crazy for wanting it?”
“Your kids don’t get a vote on your life,” I tell him. “The worst thing that happens is you learn something. Sign up.”
He laughs. “My wife said the exact same thing.”
“Your wife’s smarter than your kids. Listen to her.”
I look at the board; the caller is Jennifer. I punch the next line. “You’re on The Love Line.”
“My best friend only ever talks about herself,” she says. “Every time we’re together, and she’s never once asked how I am. I’m starting to feel invisible. Do I just let it go?”
“No. You tell her,” I say. “Plainly, and one time. A real friend feels bad and does better. The other kind gets offended and proves your point. Either way, you’ll know what you’ve got.”
I take the last line before the break. “You’re on The Love Line.”
“I want to tell my boyfriend I love him,” she says. “We’ve been together two years and he still hasn’t said it. Is it stupid to say it first?”
“Say it,” I tell her. “Out loud and mean it. Then watch what he does, not what he says. Two years is long enough to know. Better you have your answer now than later.”
Bex feeds me a couple more, and I get them where they need to go. It is a good hour. The show has been good for weeks, better than I ever expected.
Then a name comes up on the screen. Harley. She has called the show before. I take the line.
“Hi, Liam.” Her voice is soft and pleased. “I hope it’s all right that I called. I have to tell you something and I can’t hold it in anymore.”
“Go ahead, Harley.”
“I saw you.” She says it slowly. “A few weeks ago. That restaurant a couple of towns over, the one with the piano. You walked right past my table, and I said hello, and you were so kind to me. You held my hand a second longer than you had to. I’ve thought about it every day since.”
So that was her. The woman at the restaurant who knew my whole schedule and held on too long when I shook her hand. I never put the two of them together until right now.
“You weren’t alone,” she says. “She’s beautiful, your wife. You both looked so happy. I sat in my car a long while after, just being glad for you.”