LITMIR.BIZ

      The first day of the New Year turned into the first week, then the first month.

      McKenzie began to feel panicky, knowing her time with Lance was coming to an end as the one-month mark came and went. Each day following passed like sand swiftly falling through an hourglass.

      Then she realized that the day before Valentine’s Day marked the end of the two months she’d promised him. Seriously, the day before Valentine’s?

      Why did that even matter? She’d never cared if she had a significant other on that hyped-up holiday in the past. Most years she’d been in a casual relationship and she’d gotten a box of chocolates and flowers and had given a funny card to her date for the evening. Why should this year feel different? Why did the idea of chocolates and flowers from Lance seem as if it would be different from gifts she’d received in the past? Why did the idea of giving him a card seem to fall short?

      She’d be ending things with Lance the day before every other couple would be celebrating their love.

      She and Lance weren’t in love. She wasn’t sure love even truly existed.

      A vision of Lance’s grandparents, married for sixty years, his parents, married for forty years, ran through her mind and she had to reconsider. Maybe love did exist, but not for anyone with her genetic makeup. Already her dad was complaining about his new wife and had flirted outrageously with their waitress when they’d had their usual belated Christmas dinner a few weeks back. Hearing that his new marriage would be ending soon wouldn’t surprise McKenzie in the slightest. Her mother, well, her mother had taken up the vegan life because Beau was history and her new “‘love” was all about living green. Her mother was even planning to plant out her own garden this spring and wanted to know if McKenzie had any requests.

      McKenzie had no issue with her mother trying to live more healthily. She was glad of it, even. But the woman enjoyed nothing more than a big juicy steak, which was what she ordered on the rare occasions she met McKenzie for a meal—usually in between boyfriends or at Christmas or birthdays.

      McKenzie had managed both meals with her parents this year without Lance joining them. Fortunately, his volunteer work oftentimes had him busy immediately following work and she had scheduled both meals with her parents on evenings he had Celebration Graduation meetings.

      “You’ve been staring at your screen for the past ten minutes,” Lance pointed out, gesturing to her idle laptop. “Problem patient?”

      He’d come over, brought their dinner with him, and they’d been sitting on her sofa, remotely logged in to their work laptops and charting their day’s patients while watching a reality television program.

      McKenzie hit a button, saving her work, then turned to him. “My mind just isn’t on this tonight.”

      “I noticed.” He saved his own work, set his laptop down on her coffee table and turned to her. “What’s up?”

      “I was just thinking about Valentine’s Day.”

      His smile spread across his face and lit up his eyes. “Making plans for how you’re going to surprise me with a lacy red number and high heels?” He waggled his brows suggestively.

      Despite knowing he was mostly teasing, she shook her head. “We won’t be together on Valentine’s Day. Our two months is up the day before. The end is near.”

      His smile faded and his forehead wrinkled. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t be able to spend Valentine’s Day together. I have the Celebration Graduation Valentine’s Day dance at the high school that I’ll be helping to chaperone. It ends at ten and it’ll take me another twenty to thirty minutes to help clean up. But we can still do something, then we’ll call it quits after that.”

      She shook her head. “You already had plans for that evening. That’s good.”

      She, however, did not and would be acutely aware of his absence from her life, and not just because of the holiday.

      “I hadn’t really thought about it being the end of our two months. You could volunteer at the dance with me.”

      She shook her head again. “Not a good idea.”

      “Think you’d be a bad influence on those high schoolers?” Even though his tone was teasing, his eyes searched hers.

      “I probably would,” she agreed, just to avoid a discussion of the truth. They would be finished the night before. There would be no more charting together, dining together, going to dances or parties together, no more running together, as they’d started doing every morning at four. Lance would be gone, would meet someone else, would date them, and, despite what he claimed, he would very likely eventually find whatever he was looking for in a woman and marry her.

      Was he looking for someone like Shelby?

      What was Shelby like?

      Why had he still not mentioned the woman to her?

      Then again, why would he mention her? He and McKenzie were temporary. He owed her nothing, no explanation of his past relationships, no explanation of his future plans.

      Yet there were things about him she wanted to know. Suddenly needed to know.

      “Do you want kids?” Why she asked the question she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if the answer mattered to her or was even applicable. She and Lance had no future together.

      To her surprise, he shook his head. “I have no plans to ever have children.”

      Recalling how great he was with his cousins’ kids, that shocked her. Then again, had she asked him the question because she’d expected a different answer? That she’d expected him to say he planned to have an entire houseful, and that way she could have used that information as one more thing to put between them because, with her genetics, no way could she ever have children.

      “You’d make a fantastic dad.”

      His brow lifted and he regarded her for a few long moments before asking, “You pregnant, McKenzie?”

      Her mouth fell open and she squished up her nose. “Absolutely not.”

      “You sure? You’ve not had a menstrual cycle since we’ve been together. I hadn’t really thought about it until just now, but I should have.”

      Her face heated at his comment. They were doctors, so it was ridiculous that she was blushing. But at this moment she was a woman and he was a man. Medicine had nothing to do with their conversation. This was personal. Too personal.

      “I rarely have my cycle. My gynecologist says it’s because I run so much and don’t retain enough body fat for proper estrogen storage.

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