I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a boy. It’s…coffee. Always coffee.”
“Sure it is.” She said slyly.
???
After I dropped off Zeke at school, I headed to work at the doctor’s office, running on caffeine and adrenaline. Patients came and went, phones rang, my supervisor asked me to file paperwork. I did it all on autopilot, the edges of my mind still stuck in that café, still replaying his crooked smile.
“Earth to Camille,” my coworker teased, waving a chart in front of me.
“Sorry,” I muttered, cheeks burning. “Just tired.”
But the truth? I wasn’t just tired. I was distracted.
Distracted by the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Distracted by the way he gave just enough of himself to be authentic without dumping everything on me. Distracted by the desire to know more.
By the time I picked up the kids from my Mom’s, the day had chewed me up and spit me out. Chloe whined, Averycried the entire ride home because she dropped her toy, and Zeke lectured me about the importance of buying more juice boxes.
But even in the middle of it, when my phone buzzed with a text, my heart skipped.
Hunter:Hope your day wasn’t too
crazy. Did you survive?
Me:Barely. Lost a soldier to spilled
milk, but we’ll recover.
Hunter:Proud of your bravery, Beautiful.
I grinned, shaking my head, enjoying the welcome distraction.
Dinner was mac and cheese night. Which meant one would declare it the “wrong kind” of cheese, another would attempt to drown theirs in ketchup, and Zeke would eat exactly three bites before insisting he was “full” and demanding cookies instead.
“Mommy, you said broccoli makes you strong,” my son argued, pushing his green pile around. “But I don’t evenwantto be strong. I want to be fast.”
“Eat two bites,” I bargained, pointing my fork at him. “Ninja Turtles are both strong and fast. You gotta be both buddy.” He huffed but ate them, glaring at me as if I’d ruined his Olympic career.
By the time I got them bathed and into bed, my hair was frizzing, my shirt had three mysterious stains, and I waspretty sure I’d stepped on at least six Legos. Glamorous single-mom life, right?
But here’s the thing: even in the chaos, even in the mess, I was smiling.
Because in the middle of pouring milk, stealing cuddles, and refereeing a fight over toys, my phone buzzed again.
Hunter:Did the troops settle in
for the night? Or are they staging
a rebellion?
I snorted, typing back one-handed while holding a toothbrush for my youngest.
Me:Rebellion was crushed at 2100
hours. Victory is mine.
Hunter:Sounds brutal. Any casualties?
Me: A Lego car lost its wheels.
