Page 38 of Lovetown, USA

Column

Dr. Handsome and the Curious Case of My Beating Heart

By Lane Washington

I guess I should warn you that the column is going to be a little different today. Less investigative, more…butterflies.

Ew.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

But we have to talk about Dr. Handsome.

I’d been approaching my encounters with him like a lab experiment. Observe. Record. Dissect. He was charming in theory, but I had all of my defenses up. Because—and I’ll be transparent here—the last time a man charmed me like this, I ended up jobless, hopeless, and jaded.

But I think something’s shifted. This man really is romantic. Not over the top, romance novel romantic. It’s more thoughtful and subtle. The kind of gestures that make you pause mid-coffee sip and wonder if maybe, just maybe, the town’s magic is working on you.

He baked for me.

From scratch.

And took me to volunteer.

He remembered little details about me, like how much I love petit fours, information he gleaned by reading everything I’ve ever written.

I know.

Hold on. I’m not gone just yet.

I’ve always prided myself on my skepticism. It’s what makes me a good journalist. It’s also my armor, especially nowadays. But there’s a lightness in the air around him that makes me wonder if it’s safe to let my guard down. He listens. Notices. Remembers.

He makes me smile.

So what do we think, readers? Is it him? Or is it Lovetown?

I’ve been poking at this place with my pen since I got here, looking for weak spots and conspiracies. And make no mistake, I’m going to keep poking.

But now, at least, I’m open to the possibility that the grand conspiracy just might be that human beings can actually find someone to love.

Maybe the rest of you already knew this and I’ve just been in Atlanta too long.

We’ll see.