“Okay.” My face warm, I hand the bottle over to the baby, who apparently knows how to hold things better than I do.
“Mom and Dad called this morning,” Amy says after the waitress deposits two coffees in front of us and takes our orders.
“How are they?”
“Hard to say.” She stares into her coffee, which she’s stirring sugar into. “All they want to talk about is me.”
“You’re the hot topic of the moment.”
“I know.” She sighs, stops stirring, and looks up at me. “I hate feeling like a charity case.”
“You’re not—” I catch myself before finishing. “Yeah. I understand.”
“It was bad enough feeling that way as a foster kid, you know?”
I nod, knowing completely. Amy and I spent a few years together in a group home, which is where we met. We watched other kids getting adopted, feeling like it was never going to happen to us. Then, when I was thirteen, our adoptive parents took us out of there. It felt amazing to have a house with a big backyard, to be with my best friend, whom I could now call my sister. No matterwhat, I’d always have her. I didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for me ever again.
The waitress returns with our food. Pancakes for Amy, eggs and toast for me. Same order we’ve had for years. The familiar routine comforts me more than I’d like to admit. This is exactly what I need. Structure. Predictability. Someone who knows me well enough that I don’t have to explain myself.
“So,” Amy says, cutting her pancakes into perfect squares like she always does, “tell me about work. I know you’re excited about something.”
She’s right. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “The new treatment protocol got approved. We start trials next month.”
“That’s amazing.” Her smile is genuine this time, the first real one I’ve seen all morning. “You’ve been working on this for—what, two years?”
“Three.” I take a bite of toast, savoring the moment. “If it works the way I think it will, we could be looking at a thirty percent increase in survival rates for pancreatic cancer patients.”
“Jordan, that’s incredible.”
It is incredible. This is why I love my life. This sense of purpose, of making a real difference. Every late night, every missed social event, every relationship that didn’t work out because I couldn’t give it the attention it needed… It’s all been worth it for moments like this.
“Plus, it’s been hinted that I’m in the running for department head when the current head retires.”
Amy nearly chokes on her coffee. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” I lean back in the booth, feeling satisfaction settle in my chest like warm honey. “Youngest department head in the hospital’s history.”
“I’m so proud of you.” She reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”
I have worked hard. Seventy-hour weeks, constant studying, and building relationships with the right people. Everything in my life has led to this moment, and it feels perfect. Clean. Achievable.
“Speaking of which,” Amy says, her tone shifting slightly. “Michelle’s having a barbecue this weekend. You should come.”
“Sounds good. I could use a break.”
“Great.” She pauses, studying my face. “You could bring someone if you want.”
And there it is. The question I’ve been waiting for. Amy can’t help herself. She sees my success and thinks the only thing missing is someone to share it with.
“I don’t have anyone to bring.”
“I know, but maybe it’s time to change that.” Her voice is gentle but persistent. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”
The question hits differently than usual. Instead of my standard deflection, my mind actually tries to answer.
Sasha, the X-ray tech? That was months ago, and while our time together was nice, she wanted to introduce me to her parents after three dates.
The lawyer from Amy’s firm? Yeah. Not going there again. She got upset when I had to cancel dinner for an emergency surgery.
