???
The next morning, the apartment was in chaos. Cheerios spilled on the light laminate counter, my oldest insisting his favorite shirt was “lost” (it was in the hamper), my youngest crying because her sister stole her pacifier. Mom slipping out quietly with a hug and a “call me later.”
By the time Dani showed up mid-afternoon, I was exhausted, barefoot, and already halfway convinced I had made the whole date up. She walked in like she owned the place, tossing her purse on the couch.
Dani had this presence you felt before you even saw her. She moved through the world with bold, unstoppable energy, the type of friend who barged through doors instead of knocking. Her straight blonde hair was usually left down, sleek and shiny, catching the light when she tilted her head in laughter. A pair of oversized sunglasses often rested on her head, even indoors or after sunset, because subtlety had never been her strong suit.
She was sharp-tongued, soft-hearted, the type of friend who could roast you one minute and show up with fries, a milkshake, and a hug the next. Dani filled every room, not just with her voice or her wit, but with a loyalty so fierce there was never any doubt. If she was in your corner, she wasall in.
“Okay, spill. Was he a creep, or is that post-date glow I see?” Dani said.
I groaned, flopping onto the couch. “Do I really look like I’m glowing?”
“Like a light bulb, babe. Come on, don’t hold out on me.”
So I told her. About mini golf, about how he didn’t let me win, about his laugh, and the way he called me Beautiful. About how he’d texted me goodnight.
Dani grinned like she had just won the lottery. “Oh my God, youlikehim. Like-like.”
“I don’t like-like anyone,” I said too quickly. She raised an eyebrow. “Camille. You’re smiling while you talk about him. When’s the last time you did that?” I bit my lip. She wasn’t wrong. “OMG, did you guys kiss?” Dani whisper yelled. But of course it was loud enough for listening ears.
“Kiss who, mommy?” Zeke said innocently, showing he was listening in even as he played with his sisters a few feet away.
“No one baby, Auntie Dani is just being silly.” I said, glaring at her while mouthing “Seriously?”
But then the doubts spilled out too. My kids, my past, my ex, my fear of letting someone in. Dani listened, her hand squeezing mine. “Look,” she said finally. “You’ve been carrying the weight of the world for years. Maybe it’s okay if someone comes along who actually wants to help carry it with you. Just… give him a chance.”
I wanted to. I really did. But giving chances was how I’d been hurt before. That night, as I tucked my kids into bed, her words echoed in my mind.Give him a chance.And lying awake, staring at the ceiling, I realized the scariest part: I already wanted to.
???
Unfortunately, Monday mornings at the doctor’s office didn’t care if you’d had a magical first date over the weekend. By eight a.m., I was in scrubs, hair pulled into a puff of curls that were already trying to escape, and answering phones that wouldn’t stop ringing. Insurance questions, prescriptionrefills, patients arriving late for appointments, it was the usual chaos.
“Camille, do you mind rooming Mr. Collins?” the lead medical assistant asked, handing me a chart.
“On it,” I said, flashing a polite smile that was more muscle memory than sincerity.
The routine was familiar: check vitals, ask questions, type notes into the computer. All while pretending I wasn’t running on three hours of sleep because my mind had refused to shut down the night before.
Every patient reminded me why I was in school. I wasn’t just clocking hours for a paycheck. I was watching, listening, collecting stories of pain and resilience. The way I placed a gentle hand on a distraught patient’s shoulder, offering a reassuring smile or a few comforting words, was a tiny step toward the role I aspired to play. One day, I wouldn’t just be the one taking vitals or handing out clipboards. One day, I’d help people untangle their thoughts, help them feel seen. But for now, I was juggling: full-time mom, part-time student, full-time employee, and maybe, just maybe, someone with a dating life.
When my lunch break finally came, I sat in the break room with my sad Tupperware of leftovers, a smile tugging at my lips when my phone buzzed on the table.
Hunter:Hi Beautiful, how’s
your Monday going?
Me:Boring. Do you know how
many times I’ve had to explain
copays today?
Hunter:That doesn’t sound fun.
Want me tocome rescue you?
Me:Pretty sure the front desk
