By Friday, my last day on the job, I felt relief that it was finally over. I had eaten lunch with Lance regularly, except on surgery day. He would always wait for me outside after I clocked out, and then escort me to the train station. I mentioned his stalkerish behavior to Paula in passing, and she thought it was “sweet.” No help there.
On the train that evening, I told Lance that he would be seeing me playing a different role on Monday morning at the hospital.
He looked at me askance. “You a spy or something?”
“No, but this will all make sense soon.”
“No more train rides together?” Was that a pout?
“That shouldn’t stop you, though, right? You weren’t taking the train just to keep me company, were you?”
He tried to look innocent. “If I said I was?”
“I might believe it, but I know y
