I told Dani about it, and she grinned like she’d been waiting for this moment. “That’s it. That’s how you know he’s different. He’s not just showing up when it’s convenient; he’s showing up in the cracks of your day.”
I shook my head, laughing. “You’re way too invested.”
“Someone has to be,” she teased. “You overthink everything. I’m here to point out the obvious: you like him, he likes you. Now stop trying to ruin it with your brain.”
I hesitated, then admitted quietly, “He feels… different. Not bad-different. Scary-different.”
Dani leaned forward, her teasing fading. “Camille. You deserve someone good. You’ve been through hell and back. It’s okay to want more than just survival.”
The fries blurred for a second before I blinked the tears away. Because she was right. My whole life had been about survival; work, school, kids, bills, repeat. No room for anything else. At least, that’s what I told myself. But now,with one evening and a handful of texts, Hunter was starting to carve out space I didn’t know I still had.
Her words followed me into the night, through bedtime routines and the quiet at the kitchen table, textbooks open but my eyes drifting to my phone. It wasn’t just that Hunter made me laugh. He checked in. He noticed. He made me feel like maybe this messy, overwhelming, exhausting life wasn’t too much for him.
And that terrified me almost as much as it thrilled me.
Because the last time I let someone in, he walked away. And I had promised myself I’d never let anyone break me again.
That night as I finally crawled into bed and let the darkness wrap around me, the truth pressed in, quiet but insistent.
I wanted to hope again.
Chapter Six
Camille
Friday night found me sitting at my kitchen table, laptop propped open for a Zoom class while the kids quietly watched a movie on the couch. The girls munched on those Gerber star-shaped puffed snacks that stuck to everything. Zeke was curled up with a blanket, and for once the apartment wasn’t a circus. My professor’s voice droned through the screen about upcoming presentations, but my eyelids kept fluttering.
It wasn’t that I didn’t care; I cared too much. I wanted this degree more than anything. But after a full shift at the doctor’s office, making the kids dinner, and wrangling the kids into clean clothes after a bath, my brain was fried.
How was I supposed to pour into clients when I felt stretched this thin? When my coping skills consisted of coffee and hope. And how could I even consider letting someone new, like Hunter, into this already overstuffed life?
I sat at the kitchen table after class, phone in hand. His message from earlier still waited:Want to grab ice cream thisweekend?I started drafting a polite excuse, then deleted it. Typed another, deleted again. My thumb hovered over the screen, heart racing with doubt.
That’s when Dani barged in, like she had radar for my self-sabotage.
She flung off her flip flops in a dramatic thud, plopped onto the couch across from me, greeting the kids with hugs and tickles, and held up a milkshake with a flourish. Mischief clung to her like perfume. She was loud, unignorable, and exactly what I needed, which fit her in her new position as an attorney in the public defender’s office.
“Saved your life again,” she announced, shoving the too-large cup in my direction.
I laughed despite myself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously loyal,” she corrected, putting her hair up in a clip.
Dani helped with the kids most Friday nights, often staying over. She claimed it was because her place was too far, but I knew better. She stayed when I was burning out, when exhaustion was written across my face, when the weight of bills and homework and single motherhood pressed too heavily. More mornings than I could count, I’d woken to the smell of cinnamon rolls in the kitchen. Zeke would beam with pride, sticky fingers dusted in flour as he carried me a plate, bragging that he’d “helped.” Food and sleep were her weapons of choice, and she wielded them like armor for me.
She glanced toward the kids on the rug, then leaned forward, zeroing in on me. “Okay, spill. Why do you look like you’re about to break up with someone you haven’t even dated yet?” she demanded.
I sighed, shoving my phone across the table. “I can’t do this,Dani. Work, school, kids. How do I add dating on top of it? It feels impossible.”
She slurped her chocolate milkshake obnoxiously, then set it down. “Let me answer that with another question: when’s the last time someone made you laugh so hard you forgot your stress for even a minute?”
My throat tightened. I knew exactly when. Mini golf. Hunter’s grin. His teasing voice calling me Beautiful.
Dani leaned forward, her tone softening. “ It’s okay to let yourself have fun. Even if it’s complicated. You don’t have to cancel him out of fear.” I sat in that moment as Avery climbed into my lap, rubbing sleepy eyes. I rubbed her back lightly as I processed the weight of Dani’s words.
I blinked at her, tears pricking my eyes. “But what if he leaves? What if he decides I’m too much?”
“Then that’s on him,” she said firmly. “Not on you. You’ve survived worse.”
