“Do you date?”

“Sure.” She was a single woman in her thirties, living in a fun, vibrant city. Of course she dated.

“When’s the last time you were in a serious relationship?”

“Define serious.”

“It’s hard to quantify, but let’s say a relationship that lasted more than three months.”

Victoria thought about it. “Marc Joyner.”

Dr. Metzel readied his pen. “And why did things end between you and Marc?”

She laughed, not seeing how this was even remotely relevant. “It wasn’t like it was some big, tragic breakup or anything. He was heading off to UCLA, while I was going to Duke, and we both realized a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work.”

Dr. Metzel did a little scrunchy thing with his eyebrows. “Are you saying that your most recent relationship to last three months was in high school?”

She shifted in her chair. “Well, if we’re getting technical . . . it carried a couple weeks into the summer after high school.”

Man, did the good doctor ever have a field day scribbling away in his notepad after that one.

* * *

VICTORIA LEFT HER session with Dr. Metzel convinced she was the most screwed-up person in the world.

She caught a cab outside his office, gave the driver her address, and took a deep breath as the car began moving. All right, fine. So she had some issues about marriage and long-term commitment. If it wasn’t enough that the demise of her parents’ marriage had literally nearly killed her mother, every day at work she was reminded of just how sad and painful it could be when two people had to untangle themselves from the life they’d made together.

Marriage was a gamble. And so far, she hadn’t seen anything that made her want to put her own chips on the table and give that big old roulette wheel a whirl.

As for these panic issues . . . So what if the idea of losing her shit in public bothered her more than it might bother others? They didn’t have her history; they hadn’t grown up seeing how people had stared at her mom in the grocery store, or at parent night at school, like they’d expected her to have a nervous breakdown right there. She’d grown up in a relatively small community, and people had whispered about her mother for years after the suicide attempt—the “crazy” lady who’d once freaked out and tried to kill herself. Her daughter is the one who found her, you know. Can you imagine? That poor kid.

Even though the sympathy had been well meant in many cases, it had only made Victoria feel worse. Stop looking at me and my mom, we’re fine! she’d wanted to scream when she was younger. So now, the good doctor would have to excuse her if she was a tad more sensitive, perhaps, to the idea of losing control in a public place and having everyone once again staring at her and wondering what the hell was wrong.

Victoria slammed the cab door a little harder than necessary when she climbed out, then turned and gave the driver a sheepish wave. Sorry, my bad. Got a shrink up my ass and it’s making me a little peevish. You know how it is.

She brushed her hair out of her face and took a deep breath.

Probably, this would be a good time to practice those “calming” exercises Dr. Metzel had been so jonesed about.

Fortunately, she was in a better mood by the time Rachel showed up at her place a few hours later.

“Is that what I think it is?” She pointed excitedly to the garment bag her friend held.

“Yep. It just arrived today.” Rachel stepped inside and pulled the red vintage-style shirtdress out of the bag with a flourish. “It’ll go perfect with those red heels you have that tie at the ankle.”

Twenty minutes later, Victoria, her new red dress, and Rachel made their way to the elevator. They planned to take a cab to RM Champagne Salon, where they were meeting Audrey for dinner and drinks. As they walked down the hallway, Rachel talked about the date she’d gone on the night before.

“I liked him. Really liked him,” she said.

Of course she did. Whenever Rachel liked a guy, she really liked him. Always so hopeful, her friend was. “Look at you smiling. Tell me everything,” Victoria said, as they stepped into the elevator.

“Hold the elevator,” called a voice from down the hallway.

“Oh!” Rachel, who was closest, hovered her finger over the buttons, looking for the door-open button.

The elevator doors began to close, but then a man’s hand reached in, blocking them. When they slid back open, Victoria found herself face-to-face with Ford.

“Ms. Slade. Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

Speaking of things that made her peevish.

“Ford.” She nodded in greeting as he stepped into the elevator and stood next to her.

“Sorry about the doors,” Rachel told him. “I couldn’t find the button.”

Victoria made quick introductions. “This is my friend Rachel. Rachel—Ford.”

“Victoria and I share a bedroom wall,” he explained, in a mischievous tone that made this sound illicit.

“So I’ve heard,” Rachel said.

Victoria shot her a pointed look, but it was too late.

“You’ve been talking about me to your friends?” Ford looked up at the floor indicator, his mouth curved. “Interesting.”

Refusing to take the bait, Victoria stepped out when the elevator reached the ground floor and gestured to the building’s main entrance. “Are you grabbing a cab?”

He pointed in the opposite direction. “Driving. I’m hanging out with this girl tonight, at her place.”

Oh.

Well, of course. That’s what single men often did on Saturday nights.

“Really cute,” he continued. “She has these big brown eyes. Adorable smile. Although she does tend to cry a lot when she wants attention, and the last time I saw her, she spit up all over my couch. So it could be an interesting evening.”

Victoria grinned. “Zoe.”

Ford shrugged. “I thought my sister could use a night out with her friends, so I offered to babysit.”

Hearing that, something inside her softened.

That was a sweet thing to do for his sister. Really sweet.

“Now, seeing how you like to keep track of my Saturday-night comings and goings, I should warn you that it’s probably going to be a late night,” he said. “I’d hate for you to wait needlessly for me for hours, smooshed against your sliding glass door.”