“That’s not a no,” he sing-songed, clearly delighted. “So, spill. How was dinner with the MILF?”
I gave him a warning look. “Don’t call her that.”
Nate held up his hands. “Fine, fine. Dinner with Camille. Details.”
I hesitated, then sighed. “It was…good. Better than good. I think the kids liked me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “All three? You got past the gatekeepers?”
“Apparently,” I muttered, but I couldn’t hide the smile tugging at my mouth.
Nate slapped the table, grinning. “There it is! Atta boy. So why do you look like you haven’t slept?”
He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t slept much. Not because of bad dreams this time, but because of good ones. The kind that kept me awake with want instead of fear. The kind that whispered maybe, just maybe, I was allowed to want this. I shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I’m just… thinking. Trying not to screw it up.”
Nate sipped his coffee, eyes sharp for once. “You won’t. You show up. You don’t play games. That’s more than half the battle.” Then, with a grin, “Also, snacks. Kids are cheap dates.”
I shook my head, laughing. “You’re a real fountain of wisdom.”
“Don’t forget it.” He stood, stretching. “Now get your headout of la-la land and finish those reports. Or I’ll tell the boys you’re over here daydreaming and writing love letters.” I groaned, but my grin stayed. Because he wasn’t wrong. I was daydreaming.
The rest of the morning rush went by in a blur. I signed papers, fixed a mess someone else had caused, but it was all autopilot. My brain wasn’t in the office; it was back in her apartment. I kept thinking about the way Zeke’s face lit up when I said rockets were my specialty. The way the twins giggled. The way Camille leaned against me on the couch, hesitant but real, testing whether I’d hold steady. I wanted that again. All of it.
Then came the voice I was able to push off until now.
Was I ready for this? For three kids who weren’t mine, but who could be in every way that mattered, if I stayed? For a woman whose past was heavier than she let on, but who still smiled at me like I was making it lighter? Could I be reliable enough, present enough,goodenough for them? A part of me whisperedno. That same part that had been whispering since the divorce, since the Corps, since the nights when I’d sat awake in my apartment staring at nothing. That part said I wasn’t built for this. That sooner or later, I’d let her down.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and drew a slow breath through clenched teeth. The Marine Corps had trained me to handle chaos, but not this kind. This wasn’t bullets or orders. This was bedtime tantrums, spaghetti wars, and the terrifying possibility of belonging again.
A family. A home.
I leaned back and stared at the ceiling until the tension behind my eyes eased just enough for another voice to break through, a gentler one.You showed up. You stayed. You madethem laugh. You made her smile.
Sitting there in her space, surrounded by all that life, had felt like I’d come home.
But “home” was a word I’d learned not to trust. Home wasn’t something I let myself imagine anymore. The Corps had been home once. Then the marriage…until it wasn’t. Since then, it has just been me, the apartment, and the job. Quiet. Safe. Detached.
Until last night.
I rubbed a hand over my beard and exhaled hard. I wasn’t used to hope anymore, but she made me feel it again. And I didn’t hate it.
Under all the noise, that steady hum of excitement wouldn’t quit.
Chapter Twenty Five
Camille
Dani had been at the house bright and early the day after dinner to catch up on the prior night’s events. The house still smelled faintly of garlic from last night’s spaghetti. The kids were camped out on the couch, cartoons flickering blue across their faces. I leaned against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee that had already gone lukewarm, caught somewhere between exhaustion and the afterglow of last night.
Dinner unfolded softer than I’d let myself hope. Hunter moved through the house with a quiet steadiness, filling the space without ever asking for it. He knelt beside Zeke, helping him piece together the little spaceship, laughter mingling with the twins’ shrieks. Every so often, his eyes would find mine, a flicker of something gentle that left my cheeks flushed. Later, he rolled up his sleeves and started on the dishes while I wrangled pajamas and toothbrushes, no words needed. Just there, as if he’d always known how to fit into the edges of our evening.
My eyes drifted to the bouquet on the counter. That was him too, the small, deliberate gestures that said more than grand ones ever could. He didn’t show up empty-handed, and it wasn’t about impressing me. Every gift, every word, every quiet act felt intentional. Thoughtful. Like he’d been paying attention all along.
By the time my mom arrived for her usual Saturday visit, the story had already spilled out of me twice—to Dani, and to myself, replaying it in my head.
“You look good,” Mom said, stepping through the door with her ever-present tote bag and a bakery box. “Did something good happen, or did you finally sleep a full night?”
I smiled into my coffee. “Not exactly sleep. Dinner went really well last night. The kids loved him. He even cleaned up while I got them ready for bed.”
