He smiled. “It’ll probably be a late lunch when we get there.”

“So, where will our late lunch be?”

“Do you like the Historic District?”

“I love it.”

“Good. I’ve picked a restaurant there for us.”

“Do you come to Savannah often?”

“A couple of times a year, mainly for medical conferences on the Coast.”

“And you always fly?”

“I do,” he replied, with a smile.

The flight took less time than she thought, and with clear weather, it was totally smooth. As they started making their descent, Pesh glanced over at her. “Are you ready for the landing?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It can be a little intense for some people. You see a lot more of the ground rushing at you than when you’re in a 747.”

She cocked her head at him. “I went skydiving, remember?”

“Ah, that’s right.” With a wink, he added, “You’re my little adrenaline junkie.”

Megan laughed. “I was. Not anymore.”

“What changed all that?”

“Mason. When you’re responsible for the health, safety, and happiness of someone else, your entire perspective changes.”

“He’s a true gift.”

She jerked her gaze to him. “Yes, he is.”

Pesh gave her a small smile before radioing the tower. Once he had clearance to land, they started rapidly losing altitude. The runway got closer and closer until the plane jolted forward and then began skidding along the pavement. When it finally came to a shuddering stop, Megan exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “Still okay?” Pesh asked.

She grinned. “Never better.”

The sound of the tower came in her headset as Pesh listened to the instructions. The plane started rolling toward one of the hangers. Once he had parked and powered down the plane, he got out to help her. After a quick talk with a member of the grounds crew, Pesh took her hand and led her out of the hanger. A cab waited to take them into the city.

She laughed as she slid across the seat. “What?” Pesh asked.

“I’m surprised by the cab. I thought you might really go upscale by having a limo or chauffeur-driven car pick us up.”

“I like to stay humble,” he replied with a wink.

She shook her head at him before turning to gaze out the window at the scenery. When they began winding through the antebellum homes of the Historic District, Megan felt her stomach growl. She’d been too nervous to eat breakfast, and then she hadn’t dared eat at Chuck E. Cheese’s.

The cab stopped outside a chic looking restaurant. As Pesh paid the driver, Megan hopped out and took in the sights around her. She loved the old world feel of the city with all its history and charm. Pesh offered her his arm, and then they walked inside. The restaurant’s popularity was evident in how crowded it was even at four in the afternoon. They were ushered to a quiet, candlelit table.

“Wine?” Pesh asked.

“Yes please.”

“White okay?”

“Sure.”

After the waiter left with their drink order, Megan surveyed the menu and sighed. “Everything looks so good.”

Glancing over his menu at her, Pesh said, “With the cuisine being Southern, I imagined you would like it.”

“I love all types of food. Trust me, as hungry as I am now, I would have eaten anywhere.”

The waiter returned with their wine, and Megan knew she needed to make a decision. “I’ll have the shrimp and grits, please.”

“Very good, ma’am,” the waiter replied.

“I’ll have the same,” Pesh said, handing the waiter his menu. When Megan grinned at him, his brows rose. “What?”

“I’m just surprised to hear you eating something so Southern as shrimp and grits.”

He tsked at her. “When will you learn that you can never pigeonhole me as one thing or the other?”

She laughed. “Actually, I like that you’re proving me wrong and being unexpected.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Sometimes I feel like people try to do the same thing to me. People have their own assumptions about girls or women who get knocked up. I hope I constantly prove them wrong.”

“I’m sure you do.” After taking a sip of his wine, he cocked his head at her. “Prove me wrong on this one. Does a Southern girl like you eat Indian food?”

“Oh yes, I love it.”

His dark eyes lit up. “What’s your favorite dish?”

“Hmm, I love Butter Chicken, but I’m also a fan of Pav Bahaji.”

“I’m impressed. Emma had never eaten any Indian food, and I don’t think I made a good impression on her.” Pesh’s chuckle died out, and he immediately grimaced at the mention of Emma’s name.

Knowing that they were dancing around the white elephant in the room, Megan reached across the table and patted his hand. “It’s okay that you’re talking about Emma.”

“Speaking of old girlfriends or women you’ve dated while you’re with another woman is never a good idea.”

“This is different. Emma is my family.” She swirled the wine around in her glass. “I’ve heard her side of the story, but I don’t think I’ve heard yours.”

“You heard a little when you were inebriated the night of Noah’s baptism.”

Now it was Megan’s turn to grimace. “I still would like to know.”

Pesh drew in a ragged breath. When the waiter appeared with their salads, it appeared that he might dodge the question entirely. But once they were alone together, he smiled. “Emma came along at a time when I was facing extreme pressure from family and friends to move on from my grief and date again. There was no escape to it—I faced it at the hospital, as well as when I was at home. People seemed to think that once a year went by on the calendar that meant I was through with my mourning. Then one day, there she was in the ER. She was scared out of her mind about your grandfather. Somehow I just connected with her through her grief and pain.” He dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “She reminded me so much of Jade that it was easy to try to imagine that what I was feeling for her was romantic. I hadn’t been out in so long that I wanted to woo her, just like I wanted to you.”

“And Aidan came between you?”

“In a way, both he and Jade did.”

“What do you mean?”