9. Giselle
GISELLE
T he moment Josephine suggested the carpool, Giselle’s mind started spinning. Spending time with Addie outside of the hospital, in a social setting, was the last thing she wanted.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Addie—she liked her too much, and that was a problem. The kiss they’d almost shared earlier weighed heavily on her mind. It had been unexpectedandintense, and everything about it made Giselle want to keep her distance.
She could already feel the excuses forming in her head. She could say she was busy, had something else planned, or simply wasn’t feeling well. Anything to avoid the party and the awkward situation of driving Addie there.
“Giselle?” Josephine called.
Giselle sighed. There was no getting out of this.
“Sure thing,” Giselle said. “I’ll carpool with Addie.”
Josephine smiled. “See you around, ladies.” She walked off.
“Going home?” Addie asked.
Giselle turned, suddenly reminded that she was just a breath away from Addie. It was the closest she’d been to Addie since she’d massaged her ankle.
“I have to go through a couple of files in my office before I’m done with my shift,” Giselle replied.
“Sounds good,” Addie replied. “I’m going to spend some time with the new kid in the West Wing before heading home.”
Giselle almost rolled her eyes, but Addie’s genuine sweetness stopped her. She stood there for a moment, dreading the idea of socializing with the hospital staff outside of work .
“How about I text you my address so you can pick me up?” Addie asked.
“Right.” Giselle nodded.
Giselle waited as Addie reached for her phone and handed it over. She punched in her contact information and handed it back.
“There,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Okay,” Giselle said, turning around before she said anything else.
Addie didn’t stop her. She got to her office, reviewed the files as quickly as possible, and then grabbed her bag and headed out. Unless there was an emergency, her shift was done for the day.
The streets in Phoenix Ridge were littered with smiling faces.
Giselle preferred the view in front of her, beyond the sprawling road disappearing into the distance. The mountains were clothed with lush green vegetation. She could almost hear the rush of wind through the trees.
Then, she saw a hint of smoke drifting up into the sky. She blinked, but it was gone. It must be a trick of the light. Either that or she needed to rehydrate.
A large sign by the side of the road caught her eye: Jeanette’s Café.
A hot latte sounded like a small comfort in a day that had gone off the rails. She stepped inside the café, where the warm smell of coffee hit her immediately. The café wasn’t too crowded. There were just a few people scattered around, quietly sipping their drinks or typing on laptops.
Giselle walked over to the counter and ordered a latte. The barista, a petite woman wearing an oversized apron, smiled broadly, just like everyone else in the town.
Giselle simply took her drink and walked away, picking a seat next to the window.
As she stared outside, a bright red truck gleaming in the afternoon light speeded past. Then another followed. Soon, five trucks were heading in the same direction.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a soft voice said beside her.
She turned to find the petite woman from behind the counter smiling at her. The nametag on the apron read Jeannette. She must own this place .
Giselle blinked. “What?”
“The fire department,” the barista said, nodding toward the window. “It’s one of the gems of Phoenix Ridge. Always ready, always doing something amazing.”
Giselle gave a clipped nod, not interested in making small talk. “Yeah.”
The barista didn’t seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm. “You’re new to town, right? You should take some time to look around. There’s a lot to love here.”
“Sorry. Not interested,” Giselle said, taking a sip of her latte and hoping the conversation would end there.
The barista smiled, undeterred. “You work at the hospital, right?”
Giselle raised an eyebrow. “Is it that obvious?”
“You’ve still got your ID on,” the barista said, pointing to the badge hanging from her shirt.
“Oh, that,” Giselle said. “Yes.”
But the barista wouldn’t take the hint.
“That’s cool. I have a friend who works at the hospital, too. Well, more like a colleague. She drops by now and then. Always so nice and adorable. ”
Giselle’s grip on her cup tightened. She didn’t care about the barista’s colleague, but she nodded politely, hoping that would be enough to end the conversation.
“Her name’s Addie,” the barista continued, oblivious to Giselle’s growing impatience.
“She’s got this little girl, too. So sweet.
I always think it’s a shame she doesn’t have someone.
You know, like a perfect lady to help raise her daughter.
Not that she isn’t doing a great job herself, of course. But still, she deserves it.”
Giselle’s chest tightened at the mention of Addie. She set her cup down a little too forcefully, the sound causing the barista to pause.
“Please,” Giselle said firmly. “I’d like to be left alone.”
The barista blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
Without waiting for a response, the barista quickly retreated to the counter, leaving Giselle alone at the table. Giselle exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the irritation and the uncomfortable swirl of thoughts the conversation had brought up.
Addie again. It seemed like no matter where she went, Addie was there, lingering in her thoughtsandthe conversations around her. It was getting harder to ignore, harder to push aside. And now there was the party. She didn’t even want to go, but how could she not?
She had to pick Addie up.
She took another sip of her latte, staring out the window again. The last fire truck had pulled out, leaving the street quiet once more. Giselle tried to focus on the present, on the café, the coffee, anything but the growing tension inside her.
The last thing she wanted was to get involved in a situation she couldn’t control. And Addie? Addie was quickly becoming exactly that kind of situation.
She glanced at her watch. It was time to go home, to escape the thoughts crowding her mind. But the weekend loomed ahead, and with it, the party.
The weekend felt both too close and too far. She dreaded it, but at the same time, a small part of her was curious about what it would be like to spend time with Addie outside of work. What was she like in a different setting, away from the OR, outside of the hospital walls?
But Giselle didn’t dwell on it. She couldn’t afford to. She finished her latte, stood up, and headed for the door. She had two days to prepare herself for whatever the party entailed. Two days to get her head straight and remind herself that emotional connections weren’t something she could afford.
Not with Addie. Not with anyone.
Giselle got through those two days by throwing herself into work.
Each surgery was a chance to forget. But every night, as she sat alone in her apartment, the silence brought those memories back.
She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to want Addie, but it was becoming impossible to deny.
By the time the weekend arrived, Giselle still felt unsettled. She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she got dressed, her hands smoothing down the front of her jacket.
As she drove through the quiet streets, Giselle’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Addie had sent her the address the day before. Luckily, her car mapping system was up to date with the Phoenix Ridge road network. Minutes later, she pulled up in front of the house, double-checking the address before texting Addie to let her know she’d arrived.
Addie’s door opened, and there she was, stepping out with a little girl by her side. That must be her daughter. For a moment, Giselle just sat in the car, watching them.
Addie looked different outside of the hospital—more relaxed, but still so put-together. She wore a simple dress that hugged her figure in just the right way. Her daughter clung to her hand, skipping a little as they walked toward the car.
Giselle’s chest tightened. The sight of Addie with her daughter stirred something deep inside her, something she hadn’t expected—longing.
She hadn’t felt it in a long time, but there it was, a sharp ache in her chest. She admired Addie more than she’d allowed herself to admit. Even now, just watching her, it was hard not to be drawn in.
Addie leaned down to say something to her daughter.
Before she could stop herself, Giselle stepped out of the car, the sound of the door closing drawing Addie’s attention.
“You’re here early,” Addie said as she walked up to the car with her daughter in tow.
Giselle shrugged, trying to keep her face neutral. “Figured we shouldn’t be late.”
Addie smiled and gestured to her daughter. “This is Sophie.”
Sophie gave Giselle a shy smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Giselle said, glancing at the little girl before looking back at Addie. She had to admitthatseeing Addie with her daughter made her feel oddly at peace. It was nice, in a way she didn’t know how to explain.
They stood there for a moment, the quiet hanging between them as Sophie fidgeted by Addie’s side. Then Addie opened the back door and helped Sophie into the car seat, buckling her in before sliding into the passenger seat herself.
Once they were settled, Giselle pulled out of the driveway, her eyes flicking to Addie in the passenger seat.
“How was your week?” Addie asked.
“We work the same cases,” Giselle said flatly.
“Right.” Addie nodded, her fingers tapping lightly against her knee. “That was a joke, Giselle. That was meant to be a joke.”
“Maybe you could’ve told it better,” Giselle replied. When Addie didn’t reply, she sighed. “That was a joke, too.”
Giselle tried to focus on the road, but it was hard with Addie sitting so close.
After a few minutes of silence, Addie glanced back at Sophie, who was happily humming to herself in the backseat.
“She’s excited about the party,” Addie said.
Giselle nodded again, not trusting herself to say much. She didn’t want to get drawn into a conversation that would make this car ride any more complicated than it already was.
But as they drove, Giselle found herself stealing glances at Addie and the way her smooth tan legs looked under her summer dress. She could tell Addie noticed her glances.
They were halfway to the party when Addie suddenly turned to her.
“Are you okay?” Addie asked, her brow furrowed slightly.
Giselle’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, her eyes flicking back to the road. “I’m fine.”
But it wasn’t true, and Addie could probably tell.
Giselle wasn’t fine. Not with everything that was happening inside her head, not with her thoughts always circling back to Addie, to that kiss they’d almost shared. The rest of the ride passed in silence. Giselle knew that whatever was building between them couldn’t be ignored for much longer.
But right now, all she could do was focus on the road ahead and hope that the party would distract her from the growing feelings she didn’t want to face.