“I’m not happy about your interviews. You’ve humiliated the entire family.”

No change was perfect, he thought as he pulled up a chair and sat down. “It’s necessary and the price of getting my message out.”

Gloria lay on her bed. She’d been dressing for the past couple of weeks and getting her hair done. Except for the fact that she wore casual clothing instead of power suits, she looked much as she always had. The frail and broken woman from a couple of months ago had disappeared.

“You’re healing,” he said. “That’s good.”

“It was get better or die,” his grandmother said. “Lori pushed me, but she was right to do it.” Her eyes narrowed. “I know you’re seeing her.”

Not a surprise. They hadn’t been subtle or secretive. “Yes, I am.”

“How serious are things?”

“I’m not discussing my personal life with you.”

“Why not? I’m your grandmother.”

He grinned. “I’m actually clear on our relationship. You’ve been my grandmother most of my life.”

She sighed. “You’re tremendously annoying.”

“Charming. You meant to say charming.”

“I did not. I want to talk about Lori.”

“Talk away.”

“I want to know what you’re doing with her.”

He knew she meant in a relationship sense, not a sexual sense, but either way, he wasn’t talking. There were a couple of reasons. Keeping Gloria out of his personal business made a lot of sense. Just as important, he didn’t know how to answer the question.

He knew Lori mattered. She mattered a lot. He didn’t want to think about his feelings or define them, but they were there. Growing. He felt good when he was around her and he missed her when he wasn’t. For now, that was enough.

“Reid,” his grandmother snapped. “I asked you a question.”

“Lori is off-limits.”

“I could say the same thing to you.”

“I know you care about her. So do I.”

“I’m not going to break her heart,” Gloria told him. “You very well may.”

“I won’t,” he said and meant it. “Besides, how do you know she won’t be the one hurting me?”

His grandmother didn’t say anything. Instead she looked out the window, as if she knew something she didn’t want to tell him. Had she and Lori talked? But before he could ask, his grandmother said, “I’ve heard there have been calls about donating. How is that going?”

“Good. No matches yet. Madeline’s blood type isn’t going to make matching easy, but it’s possible. The good news is a guy whose liver was seriously damaged in a car accident in Kansas is getting a new liver. So one life was saved.”

“Does that make it worth it?” she asked. “I’ve seen the interviews. They’re not being easy on you.”

If being publicly humiliated about his sexual performance on national television counted as “not being easy” then she was right.

“It’s worth it,” he told her. “Even if no one’s life was saved, it would still be worth it. People need to donate and I’m reminding them of that.”

His grandmother reached for his hand. He leaned forward and grabbed her fingers.

“I’m proud of you,” she told him.

“Thanks,” he said, and meant it. For reasons he couldn’t begin to explain her words mattered. A lot.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DANI TOSSED her car keys to the valet and then hurried into the restaurant. She saw Gary waiting by the window and rushed up to him.

“I’m late,” she said by way of greeting. “I’m sorry. It’s only my second day at the restaurant and there’s so much to learn. I lost track of time.”

Gary smiled at her, then stunned her by leaning in and kissing her cheek. “Hi. I’m not mad. You look happy.”

“I am. I love my job. I know it’s early and I’m still in the fun part of work, but I love it. I love the staff, the customers. I adore the food. It’s amazing. I may actually have to start exercising to keep from gaining weight.”

She kept talking—make that babbling—some from excitement, but mostly out of shock. Sure, Gary’s light brush across her cheek was hardly news-worthy, but his caress had been unexpected. Nice, but unexpected.

She resisted the need to put her fingers on the spot his mouth had been as she tried to figure out what she felt. There hadn’t been any kind of zing of excitement, but that was okay, right? Sex wasn’t everything. Gary might not make her thighs go up in flames, but she liked him.

She smiled at him. “I’ve probably wound down for now,” she said. “How are you? How was your day?”

“Fine.” He moved them toward the small desk at the front of the foyer. “We have a reservation.”

She glanced around at the crowded restaurant. It was one of those neighborhood places with great food and plenty of regulars. The food smelled good and Dani liked the mix of clientele. There were families, older couples, several large parties and a group of women laughing in a corner.

“This is nice,” she said. “I’ve never been here.”

“The food is excellent. The menu has a lot of variety and everything is good.”

They followed the hostess to a quiet table in the back.

“How did you find this place?” she asked.

Gary held out her chair, then took the seat opposite hers. “I used to work around here.”

They were in an older part of Seattle. She frowned as she tried to place a college. She couldn’t think of one in the neighborhood. It was mostly residential.

“Where?” she asked. “At a private school?”

He hesitated. “I wasn’t always a teacher.”

“Oh. Okay.”

It was then she remembered she didn’t know very much about her date. She knew he had a sister, that he was kind and a great listener. Embarrassment flooded her body as heat crawled up her cheeks.

“I’m a horrible person,” she said, with a groan. “Totally disgusting and self-absorbed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Me. My behavior. How many times have we had coffee together? How many of those conversations have been about my life, my problems, my job search? Me, me, me. It’s awful. Why on earth did you want to have dinner with me?”

“Because I like you.”

He must or he wouldn’t have asked. She pushed aside her menu and leaned forward. “I apologize for my lousy behavior and promise that tonight is just about you. I want to know everything. You can skip the being born part—that’s a little too messy for dinner conversation. But feel free to pick up with your first memory after that.”

He smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for. I enjoy talking about you.”

“Guys like to talk about themselves.”

“I’m more comfortable listening. An old habit.”

Which made him practically perfect boyfriend material. He was smart and funny and kind. A really decent person.

“So why aren’t you married?” she asked. “We’ve established you’re not gay.”

He grinned. “But I am thinking of upgrading my wardrobe.”

She laughed. “I’m serious, Gary. Are you keeping secrets?”

She’d asked the question lightly, then stiffened when he didn’t chuckle or tease in return.

“Not secrets so much as information,” he said.

She knew that whatever it was, she was going to hate it. The knowledge formed deep in her gut and sat there like a rock.

“You’re married? You killed a man? You used to be a woman? You have a contagious disease and now I have three weeks to live?”

“No.” His expression was kind. “Nothing like that.”

A woman in her forties walked by the table, paused and backed up a couple of steps. She looked at Gary, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Father Halaran?”

Dani straightened. A thousand thoughts flooded her brain but just one in bright neon letters flashed: Father Halaran? Father Halaran? As in…

Oh, dear God.

Gary nodded at the woman. “Hello, Wendy. It’s just Gary now. Remember?”

“What? Oh, right.” Wendy looked at Dani, then jerked her gaze back to Gary. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“It’s been a couple of years and I’m doing well.”

“I’m glad. It’s, ah, good to see you, Fa…ah, Gary.”

The woman walked away.

Dani blinked several times as her mind slowly cleared. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual when in truth she was in the mood to scream. “That was interesting.”

“I used to be a priest.”

“I kind of figured that out.”

He smiled. “Good. I left two years ago. That’s when I started teaching. I lived a few blocks from here and always liked this restaurant. I probably should have taken you somewhere else.”

Did he really think that was the biggest problem they had? “No. This is lovely. Really.”

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to absorb the whole priest thing.”

“You’re not Catholic,” he said. “It shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“You’d think. But it kind of is.” Although she couldn’t say why.

A priest. As in married to the church. As in celibate. Talk about a springboard to discussion. So had he…been with a woman since? And if he hadn’t, did he want to be? Did she want to deal with that?

“Say something,” he told her. “What are you thinking?”

“No wonder you’re a good listener.”

“Is this going to be a problem?” He picked up the menu, then put it down. “I wanted to tell you, Dani. There just wasn’t a good time. It’s not as if I could introduce myself that way. ‘Hey, I’m Gary. An ex-priest. And you are?’“

She smiled. “That would be kind of scary.”

She looked at him, at the kindness in his eyes, at the smile that had become familiar to her. She liked him. She trusted him. He was a good man.

“Everything about leaving was scary,” he told her. “I’d been on exactly one date in my life before I made my decision to become a priest. I’d never held a job, lived totally alone, been a normal person. I’m still adjusting, but I like it. This is where I’m meant to be. Are you okay with that?”

Was she? She opened her mouth to say she was, but then she couldn’t. The knot in her gut hadn’t gone away.

“I have the most uncomfortable feeling that God is sending me a really big message. He’s telling me I’m not supposed to be with anyone right now,” she said. “For once, I think I’m going to listen. I’m sorry, Gary.”

She grabbed her purse and stood. He rose, but didn’t try to stop her. Disappointment darkened his pale eyes.

“Maybe if you took some time to get used to the idea,” he began.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’d like to stay friends, but I understand if you don’t want to do that. If you expected more.”

“I’d hoped,” he admitted.

Guilt flooded her. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she couldn’t ignore how she felt.

“I’m sorry,” she said and hurried away.

THE DOWNTOWN SPORTS BAR was crowded for a Thursday night—the Seahawks were playing so the place was busy and loud.

Reid stood behind the bar and leaned toward Mandy, one of the waitresses, to hear her drink order.

He hadn’t worked in weeks—not since the article in the paper. His only visits to the bar had been off-hours and low-key. But tonight he was filling in for a guy who’d gotten sick. He was taking a lot of crap from patrons, but he was dealing.

He poured two beers, then grabbed the bottles to make an apple martini. Not his choice for a football game, or anytime, but it wasn’t for him. He poured in the right amounts of the various liquors, dumped the ice from the martini glass, filled it up and set it on Mandy’s tray.

“Hey, Reid,” some guy at the bar yelled.

Reid turned toward the voice, but he couldn’t see who had spoken. They were two and three deep at the bar.

“Is it true you’re really lousy in bed?”

So far all the comments had been joking and friendly. This was the first direct confrontation.

Despite the fact that the Seahawks had the ball and were inches from a first down, the space around the bar went quiet. He wondered if the guy would have the guts to show himself.

The decision was made for the man when several people moved away, leaving a short, balding guy in his late thirties standing alone.

Reid looked at him, gave a slight smile, then asked, “You want to know for yourself?”

There was a moment of silence followed by an explosion of laughter. The guy shifted uncomfortably, muttered “No,” and slunk away.

“Anyone else interested?” Reid asked. “I’m here, I’m working. Take your best shot. I can handle it.”

“That’s not what that woman in the paper said,” another man called.

“Want your wife to give me a recommendation?” Reid asked with a grin. “She will.”

The guy grumbled, but didn’t show himself.

“Anyone else?” Reid asked. “You’ve got to have better lines than the ones I’ve been hearing. Come on. Nail me.”