The clock was already creeping toward mid-afternoon when Jake Jr. busted through the front door, cheeks flushed pink from the cold and his football helmet still in hand.
“Mama! Football practice was insane today! Coach pushed us hard,” he exclaimed, dropping his backpack by the door.
Kylee smiled, despite the tightness in her chest. “Want a snack?”
“Yeah! Can I have some apple slices and peanut butter?”
As she was slicing apples, Jake Jr. bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes shining with excitement. “Tomorrow’s the big game! Coach says I might get to start at quarterback. I can’t wait!”
Kylee’s heart lifted a little at his enthusiasm. “That’s my star. You’re going to crush it!”
Macy stirred awake and toddled over, tugging on Kylee’s jeans with sticky fingers. “Mama! Juice!”
Kylee balanced the apple slices on a plate and turned to find Macy’s tiny face beaming up at her. “Apple juice, right?” she asked, pouring a small cup of diluted apple juice into a cup.
The afternoon was a blur of back-to-back tasks: switching loads of laundry, wiping spilled juice from the kitchen floor, refereeing a minor argument over a missing toy, and starting dinner preparations in small, stolen moments.
Between helping Jake Jr. with his homework and chasing after Macy’s explorations, Kylee’s arms ached and her feet throbbed.
Amid the chaos, her thoughts kept drifting back to Jake’s brief mention of Rachel, the new receptionist. The name echoed in her mind, unfamiliar and unsettling.
She shook her head, forcing herself back to the present to the mess of toys scattered across the living room floor, the crumpled school papers begging to be signed, and the quiet baby coos reminding her that the day wouldn’t pause for her worries.
Meanwhile, across town, the day unfolded very differently for Jake.
Jake adjusted the cuffs of his white coat as he walked briskly down the polished hallway of his clinic. The floors gleamed, the air smelled faintly of antiseptic and lavender, and the receptionist’s laughter drifted down from the front desk.
Rachel was seated cross-legged behind the counter, tapping away at the new scheduling system. Her ponytail bounced as she turned toward him, eyes wide, eager.
"Hey, Dr. Waterman! I figured out how to link the patient emails to the calendar reminders. Want me to show you?"
He gave her a brief smile. “That’s great. Just make sure the HIPAA forms are in order before we push any reminders.”
She nodded, biting her lip slightly. “Of course, totally. You’re super organized. It’s kind of hot, honestly.”
He didn’t respond to that. Just turned away with a small shake of his head. But he didn’t correct her, either.
The rest of his day moved with the rhythm he preferred: methodical, clean, and predictable. A pair of Botox injectionsbefore 11, a new patient consult for a mommy makeover just after lunch. He liked the subtle fixes, the art of it. The ability to shape perception with a scalpel or a needle. In the mirror, people smiled differently after they saw him. That never got old.
His office was immaculate with modern lines, glass shelving, and calming gray walls. Everything in its place. Unlike home, where sippy cups multiplied overnight and the remote was always missing.
He sipped espresso from a sleek matte-black cup, checking patient notes on his tablet between appointments. No crying babies. No messy hands. No chaos.He was good at this life. Smooth, efficient. Admired. In control.
Rachel peeked her head into his office around two. “Hey, I restocked the numbing cream and checked in all your 3 p.m.’s.”
She stood a little too close, her perfume sweet and heavy. He felt the way her eyes lingered on the outline of his shoulders through his scrub top.
“Thanks, Rachel,” he said, keeping his voice even.
He glanced briefly at the framed photo on his desk, Kylee and the kids, all smiles from a picnic last summer. Kylee was in a sundress, hair in a braid, holding Kayla on her hip. He stared at it longer than he meant to. He loved her. He did. But sometimes love felt like a weight. He blinked, set the photo down, and turned back to his tablet. Another patient was waiting.
Jake walked in just after six.
Kylee heard the garage door hum, followed by the soft thud of the door opening. She was at the stove, stirring a pot of savorygumbo while Macy sat on the floor behind her with measuring cups, and Kayla bounced in the baby seat, babbling to herself.
Jake’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, and then he appeared, shrugging off his coat. His hair was slightly tousled from the wind, but still perfect as always.
“Mmm,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “Smells amazing.”
