5. Karla
KARLA
My phone blared across the nightstand like it was trying to wake the entire neighborhood. I groaned, pulling the pillow over my face. I had no idea what time it was—or what planet I was even on. The blackout curtains had done their job a little too well.
Reaching blindly, I found the phone and swiped to answer without even checking who it was. “Hel-hello?” My voice cracked somewhere between frog and foghorn.
Martha’s unmistakably jubilant tone filled my ear. “Girls’ night tonight! Don’t tell me you forgot.”
I winced and pried one eye open. Of course I forgot. My brain felt like mashed potatoes, my mouth like sandpaper. Night shifts had a way of stealing entire days. “You know I wouldn’t miss sushi night for the world,” I lied, voice rough around the edges.
“I woke you up, didn’t I?” she accused.
“Define ‘up,’” I mumbled, scrubbing my face with my free hand. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost three. You sound like you died.”
“Feels about right.” I glanced at the lumpy shape beside my legs. Under the comforter, Nike and Thor were two perfectly snuggled little cinnamon buns of fur. They stirred just enough to let out identical grumbles when I moved. “You boys are no help,” I whispered.
Martha sighed dramatically through the line. “So, six p.m. at our usual place? Don’t you dare bail on me again.”
“I’ll be there—with bells on,” I promised, rolling over and squinting at the clock. “Now let me die for another hour.”
She laughed. “Perfect. See you later, zombie girl.”
When the call ended, I tossed the phone onto the nightstand and exhaled.
My body begged to sink back into the mattress.
But before sleep reclaimed me, I set a backup alarm.
One thing you learn working nights—if you don’t set at least two alarms, you will wake up at midnight convinced it’s still the same day.
I pulled the blanket over my head, feeling Nike’s tiny paws press against my calf. Thor let out a satisfied snort. “Best nap buddies ever,” I muttered, and drifted back under.
By the time my second alarm went off, the sun had dropped low enough that my bedroom glowed with that syrupy amber light I love—proof that New York still gets a few soft moments between chaos.
I stretched, bones popping, and shuffled to the kitchen while the dogs performed their pre-walk dance, tails vibrating like tuning forks.
“Okay, okay,” I yawned, clipping on their leashes. “Five minutes, then Mommy gets human again.”
Outside, the air was mild, tinged with the smell of exhaust and blooming street trees. Nike trotted like a show pony while Thor tried to chase every pigeon within sight. I smiled despite myself. Nights might drain me, but these two never failed to refill the tank.
When we got back inside, I traded scrubs for jeans and a mint-green blouse, brushed my hair into something resembling a style, and caught my reflection. Puffy eyes, faint dark circles—but with a little mascara and a prayer, I could pass for rested.
Girls’ night was sacred—a standing date, a lifeline. Even though I was exhausted, I was glad Martha dragged me out from under my blanket and min-pin fortress occasionally.
Martha was already waiting at the hostess stand when I walked into our favorite sushi hole-in-the-wall. The air smelled of soy sauce, ginger, and sizzling tempura. String lights framed the narrow dining room, turning the cracked walls into something almost magical.
“Hey, bitch!” Martha’s voice turned heads as she threw her arms around me.
“Hey, slut,” I laughed, hugging her back. “Is Kari meeting us?”
“She’s running late. Client meeting.” Martha rolled her eyes and followed the hostess to our usual back booth. “You know she can’t say no to that dragon she works for.”
Ming, the petite hostess, greeted us with her usual shy smile. “Nice to see you again. Jill will be right with you.” She bowed slightly before flitting back to the front.
I slid into the booth, sighing in pleasure at how cold the seat was. “Seriously, I think my soul just unclenched.”
Martha snorted, already scribbling orders on the paper menu. “You and your dramatic nurse talk.”
“What? We’re in constant survival mode. Let me have my dramatics,” I teased with a forced huff and a quick grin.
She smirked back. “Fair. So, how’s the land of the living dead?”
“Quiet, for the most part, last night,” I said, checking off spicy tuna, avocado roll, shrimp tempura, and one of the chef’s specials for good measure. “Just the usual rounds, lots of coffee, and a patient who’s got me thinking more than I should.”
Martha lifted a brow. “Thinking how?”
“Not like that,” I said quickly. “Her brother. Brayden Cox. He’s going through hell. The family’s story is… rough.”
Her eyes softened. “Be careful, babe. You always get attached.”
“Yeah.” I forced a smile. “I know.”
Kari finally arrived in a whirlwind of perfume and exhaustion, her sleek bun half undone. “Traffic from hell,” she sighed, sliding into the booth beside me.
“You made it,” Martha cheered, waving for sake. “Now it’s officially girls’ night.”
Jill, our favorite server, appeared with a tray of chilled peach sake before we could even ask. “I had a feeling you’d need this.”
“Bless you,” I said reverently.
“How’d your business law test go?” I asked as she poured.
Our server’s whole face lit up. “I got an A!”
Kari clapped her hands together. “Yes! I knew you’d crush it.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Jill said bashfully. “Those email explanations saved me.”
Kari brushed it off with a grin. “Please. I’d rather talk tort law with you than listen to the sound of my own boss breathing.”
We all laughed, clinking our glasses.
“To girls’ night,” Martha declared. “May the gossip be juicy and the dirt never leave this table.”
“To girls’ night,” we echoed, downing the peach-sweetened shots. The burn was perfect—enough to melt the edges off the day.
Martha drummed her nails on the table. “All right, Karla. Update us on the boyfriend.”
I groaned. “James is fine. Working on some townhouses in Queens.”
Kari smirked. “No ring yet?”
“God, no.” My hand flew to my chest and my mouth gaped. They know better.
The synchronized sigh they let out could have powered a wind turbine.
“One of these days,” Kari warned, “you’ll meet someone who makes you forget all that anti-marriage talk.”
“Unlikely,” I said, sipping water. “I’m perfectly happy with things as they are.”
Martha leaned in. “Still don’t buy it. You’ve got the heart of a romantic, no matter how hard you try to smother it.”
“Please,” I said, laughing. “I’ve seen too many marriages implode—some from the inside, some from the outside. I like my happy just the way it is.”
Kari tilted her head, half-smiling. “You keep saying that like it’s armor.”
Maybe it was. But I wasn’t ready to peel it off yet.
Dinner stretched into hours, our table a riot of merriment and empty plates. Kari told us about the grab-ass intern at her firm—“twenty-three and bold as hell”—and Martha admitted she was crushing on a photographer who wore eyeliner better than she ever could.
For a while, everything was light again. Easy. The kind of night that reminds you who you are outside your job title.
When we finally spilled out into the cool night air, the street buzzed with neon and late-night chatter. We hugged on the sidewalk, swearing to repeat the ritual in two weeks.
The apartment was dark when I got home, but the second the key turned, Nike and Thor exploded into a flurry of excited yaps.
“Shhh,” I whispered, stepping out of my heels. “Some of us have neighbors who actually sleep at night.”
James’s voice drifted from the bedroom. “Babe? That you?”
“Yep.” I stripped down as I crossed the hall, letting clothes trail like breadcrumbs. “Girls’ night success. Kari and Martha are still trying to figure out why you haven’t proposed.”
He chuckled, pulling me against his chest as I slid into bed. “They’re going to suffocate waiting for that. You’ve made your stance pretty clear.”
“Thank you for respecting that.” I pressed a kiss to his jaw, the familiar roughness grounding me.
“Of course, my love,” he murmured, lips finding mine in the dark.
I sighed against him, letting the last bit of city noise fade beyond the window. For a moment, life felt simple—warm body, steady breath, dogs snoring at our feet.
But somewhere, under that quiet, the echo of hospital monitors and a certain patient’s name tugged at the edges of my mind.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.