After making up our plates, we carried them into the dining half of the main room. Luckily, the empty silence was soon filled with Paige’s questions about med school, a topic I could talk about for hours.

“Do you have classes during the day, and then internships at night? That seems like an awful lot.” She looked down at her plate. “Sorry, I don’t know how this stuff works.”

I waved her off. “Not at all. I finished my classroom time during my first two years. The next two years of med school are spent in rotations. Basically, I’m like a doctor without the medical license. I’ve delivered babies, assisted with surgery, tended to gunshot victims in the ER. It’s a little bit of everything.”

“Wow. That sounds intense.”

I shrugged. “My stepdad once said you’re not a real doctor unless you can handle traumas. Kind of a weird statement, but something about it resonated with me. I’m glad I got to experience that firsthand in my emergency-medicine rotation. Basically, if you’re ever stabbed or have a flesh-eating virus, I’m your man.”

She laughed as she took another bite of her fajita. Salsa landed on her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.

“It’s smart the way they structure it,” I said, “because you’re forced to learn everything before you can declare your specialty. And then after that, you apply for residencies.”

“Right . . . your residency. Allie said you’d be moving in about two months.”

I nodded. “That’s the idea.” I just had to figure out where in the hell I wanted to go. Part of me wanted to whisk off on an adventure, maybe go and live overseas, do humanitarian aid in India or Africa for a few years. But I knew Mom and Allie would freak if I did that, so I was torn.

“So you liked working with trauma patients? Is that what you want to specialize in?” Paige placed her napkin back in her lap and looked at me expectantly.

I let out a deep sigh. “Honestly? I don’t have a fucking clue. Emergency medicine is what I’ve been telling everyone for the past two years, but the truth is, I don’t know. I deferred the decision, and the final deadline is approaching in a couple of weeks. I need to just pick something, but so far I haven’t been able to narrow it down.”

“Ah, I see.” She rubbed her chin. “You’re a fear-of-commitment type.”

At that, I chuckled. She didn’t even know the half of it. “Something like that.”

“What’s your current rotation? Do you like it?”

Oh, this was going to be fun. I couldn’t wait to see the blush on her cheeks when I told her. “Obstetrics and gynecology. And yeah, it’s been . . . enlightening. But if I’m going to have my hand inside a woman’s honeypot, I’d much rather it be for pleasure than for work.”

She choked on her margarita, coughing to clear her airway. “Fuck.” Coughing loudly several more times into her napkin, she grinned at me. “That was not fair.”

I merely shrugged. “Never said I played fair, princess.”

“You shouldn’t piss off the woman who so graciously offered you a roof over your head. I’ll tell Allie you’ve been making trouble.” Paige waved her fork at me. The menace was spoiled by the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. “So you only enjoy vaginas recreationally. Got it. What rotations did you like? Any favorites?”

I chewed slowly as I pondered. “Hmm . . . maybe cardiology?”

“What appeals to you about it?”

“I don’t know.”

I did know, but it would sound stupid if I explained it out loud. After Dad left, Mom was so sad and crying all the time. When I’d asked her what was wrong, she told me that her heart was broken . . . and it scared the shit out of me. I’d been too young to understand that the literal, physical heart wasn’t the same thing as what people meant when they talked about emotions. So I’d thought she was going to die.

It made sense to me that the heart pumped emotions along with blood. I, too, had felt things in my chest—a painful squeeze whenever I thought about Dad, a solid warmth when I resolved to protect Mom and Allie no matter what. But even after I learned otherwise, I remained fascinated with the heart, both its symbolism and its reality. It was the only organ in the body that never tired or took a break. Steady and faithful. Ironic, given that I seemed to be cursed when it came to relationships, that I was more interested in matters of the heart than the physiology of it.

After a few more bites of her food, Paige looked up. “Why did you decide to go into medicine?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “You already know my sister and I were dealt a crap hand.”

She looked down into her margarita. “Yeah, I do . . . I was there. It wasn’t always easy.”

Being raised by a single mom with only a high-school education wasn’t glamorous. We moved more times I cared to remember. It seemed like every time my mom lost her job or broke up with her latest boyfriend, we were uprooted. She made sure we stayed in the same school district, but finding a place with rent she could afford wasn’t easy. Without a father figure in our lives, the responsibility of being the man of the house fell on me.

“Growing up the way I did, I guess it shaped my goals. Now I’m just perfecting the art of making lemonade.”

She smiled at me as if she liked that answer. “Making lemonade. I like that. So, what are your goals?”

“Being low-income meant I qualified for free tutoring and a bunch of scholarships. I won plenty of those, based on both merit and need, enough to cover the cost of my tuition at Yale. And then later, med school.”