My Dream Man by Marie Solka

sad.”
    She smiled. “We’ll see each other plenty. I’ll be back for long weekends and holidays.”
    I smiled, but I still felt sad. “Have you heard any more from Jack?”
    Tabby shrugged. “Nope. Just that one time when I stopped by. I’m over him.”
    She didn’t look like she was over him, but I didn’t press the conversation. Some things were best left alone.
    “Did you ever hear from that guy you liked? What was his name, Craig?”
    “Greg,” I corrected. “And no, I haven’t heard from him. He hasn’t been around. His dad says he’s working on a big project. I guess he’s some kind of workaholic.”
    “Why don’t you give him a call?” she asked.
    “Can’t do that.”
    “Why not?”
    “Mrs. Myszkowski told me not to. She said I’d ruin things by being impatient.”
    Tabby rolled her eyes. “She’s one of your patients, right? The crazy smoker lady?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “And you’re going to listen to her over your wise younger sister?”
    I hated to say it, but yes. I trusted Mrs. Myszkowski’s advice over anyone else’s. She’d snagged the guy she wanted back in the day. All my little sis had done was hook up with a jackass. “I’m just gonna play it by ear,” I told her. “If it’s meant to be it will be.”
    I wanted to believe my own words, but doubt kept getting in the way. If only I could stop hoping and wishing and let it go, not let my mind wander to the dream. If only I could flip a switch and stop fantasizing about his kiss, his scent, his hand reaching out to hold mine.
    If only it was that easy.
    That evening, I decided the best thing to do was to distract myself with a movie. I thought if I got immersed in a story it would help me forget. It worked for a while too, until the love scene where the couple walked hand in hand on the beach. Instead of watching them, I found myself replacing the images on the screen with Greg and me. Then I’d drift off and miss a full ten minutes.
    Frustrated, I turned the movie off and channel surfed. I settled on an episode of International House Hunters . The couple had relocated from Cincinnati, Ohio to a charming town in the French countryside. After they’d selected their house and did some minor remodeling, the scene shifted to the two of them getting cozy in a nearby café.
    Before I knew it I was picturing Greg and me at the café. He was saying something funny and I was laughing, trying not to spill the wine I’d been sipping.
    I was hopeless. The more I tried to stop fantasizing about Greg, the more I thought of him.
    The next morning I woke with a change of heart. I decided it was unhealthy to keep wishing for a relationship with a guy who wasn’t interested. I decided to give up on Greg and go about my business the way I’d done before meeting him. Maybe take on a few more patients to stay busy in an attempt to push him out of my mind.
    A half an hour later my phone rang. It was Mr. Varo. He never called on Sunday. “This is Sam,” I answered, worried he was about to give me bad news.
    “Hi Sam. This is Greg Varo.”
    I was in shock. I couldn’t speak.
    “Um. . . I hope it’s okay that I’m calling. I know you didn’t give me your number.” He sounded nervous, unsure.
    “Of course it’s okay,” I said. “How’ve you been?”
    “I’m better. Took a while, but now I’m feeling one hundred percent.”
    The phone trembled in my hand. “That’s good to hear,” I said, sounding professional. I wished I’d said something better.
    “Anyway, the reason I’m calling is to see if you’d like to go out to dinner with me some time? I mean, if you don’t have a boyfriend,” he added.
    I steadied myself by leaning on the kitchen counter. “I’d love to.” I stifled a happy squeal. “Um…when?” I said in my best impersonation of someone who was perfectly calm and collected.
    “How’s this Friday? Seven-o-clock?”
    “Sure,” I said, then gave him my address. I hung up and collapsed into a