1. Chapter One
Chapter One
Hip Replacements + the “Hell Yes” Rule
Aspen
Six months ago.
“Ms. Lilly!” I say, stepping into the room with a raised brow and a hand on my hip. “Didn’t you tell me you were going to sleep last time I checked on you?”
She waves a hand at me. “That was before I remembered my show was on tonight!”
“And what show is that?” I ask, because it’s too late in the evening for it to be her stories.
She looks at me as if I should already know. “SightUnseen!”
I shake my head, trying not to smile at the tiny woman tucked under hospital sheets. Her skin is lined with years and her silver hair is just as stubborn as she is. So it’s no surprise that she is enjoying some top tier reality tv.
I’ve worked at Centennial Memorial Hospital for ten years now. Started here fresh out of college, barely confident enough to speak up during rounds. Now I’m the Hospital Nursing Administrator, running the very floors I used to tiptoe across.
And somehow, despite everything—long shifts, board meetings, emergency calls—I always find my way back to the geriatric wing. It’s peaceful here. And this month’s VIP guest is Ms. Lilly Rose.
Yes, that Rose.
As in Rose Wines. The oldest Black-owned wine brand founded in the South. Her family settled in Cinnamon Grove over twenty years ago, practically built the foundation this town rests on. And Ms. Lilly Rose is the queen.
She had a hip replacement last month, and her recovery’s been slow. But I don’t mind. Somehow, in the madness that goes on between these hospital walls, we’ve become something like friends. She gets me.
I toe off my shoes and climb into the bed beside her like I’ve done a dozen times before.
“So,” I say, resting my shoulder gently against hers. “What’s going on with these crazy couples this week, Ms. Lilly?”
She pats my hand before reaching for the remote to lower the volume. “You’d better be glad a commercial’s on.”
SightUnseen is the latest reality show to have the entire country in a chokehold.
The concept? Total strangers talk through a wall for a week, never laying eyes on each other.
And if they “connect,” they get engaged.
Then married. Most of their entire courtship happening before they’ve even seen each other’s faces.
Personally, I think it’s a terrible idea. But like the millions of others across the country, I can’t stop watching. Especially since so many of this season’s couples are from Cinnamon Grove.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, grinning. “I know how you get all mesmerized by those strapping young men.”
“That’s right!” she snaps, full of sass. “Soon as this hip gets right, I’m getting me one of them young men. Mark my words.”
We both crack up, because if there’s one thing Ms. Lilly Rose does not pretend to be, it’s shy. The woman has made it abundantly clear on several occasions that she is a feminist and a freak who was shaped by the 70’s. Which means she has absolutely zero shame. And we love her all the more for it.
“Those men wouldn’t know what to do with you, Ms. Lilly Rose.”
She tilts her chin. “I tell you what, that girl on the show better figure out what to do with that Chance before I show her.”
I gasp, laughing. “Wait, which one is Chance, again?”
“He’s the beautiful one who married the girl even after she said she wasn’t really into him.”
“Oh, him! And we all knew that girl wasn’t right for him. She only said yes because the man she really wanted, picked somebody else.”
“Mmm hmm.” She nods. “These young girls don’t know what they’re missing. That man is fine, and he cooks!”
“I saw the episode where he made her gumbo and she turned her nose up at it!”
Ms. Lilly throws her head back, laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye and leans in. “Baby, the only thing I’d be turning up for that man is this tail, you hear me?”
“Ms. Lilly Rose!” I squeal, fanning myself like I’m scandalized, even though I’m anything but.
When I was a nurse practitioner on the floor, I got to actually see people.
Talk to them. Learn their stories. I’d come in after my shift and find Christmas cards taped to my locker, or a box of Valentine’s chocolates from a grateful family—even from the families who didn’t get to take their loved ones home. Those times made the job worthwhile.
These days, I mostly sit in boardrooms and shuffle through budgets and performance metrics. The only patients I see frequently are the ones labeled VIP. The ones we bend over backwards to keep happy because they donate obscene amounts of money to the hospital or know someone who does.
I miss connecting, really connecting, with people. And some days, I wonder if I traded the one thing I loved most for a title that keeps me locked behind a desk.
I mean, the money isn’t so bad either.
I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye, quietly thankful for these unfiltered moments with Ms. Lilly.
Then I glance down at my watch. 8:25 PM. And right on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I slip my hand away from Ms. Lilly’s and reach for my phone. One new message. My heart does a slow roll in my chest when I see who it’s from.
Croix: I brought you dinner, love. Come eat with me and tell me I’ve been a good boy.
I smile, shaking my head.
Me: Let me say goodnight to Ms. Lilly and then I’ll head down. You in the cafeteria?
Croix: Yes, but I can be in your office in 5 minutes if you want? ;)
Me: You already know the answer to that. See you in a few.
“Is that your man checking in on you?” Ms. Lilly asks, nodding toward my phone.
I feel my cheeks warm. “Yeah. I mean….He’s not my man. Not really…not like that,” I say, the words slipping out more honestly than usual.
I’m normally guarded about the men I date. But there’s something about Ms. Lilly that makes it hard to lie. Or maybe I’m just tired of pretending.
“Not like that?” she repeats, raising a brow. “Then what is he? What is it like?”
I exhale, searching for the right words. “It’s complicated. He’s good to me. He’s good-looking, sweet, thoughtful...but sometimes I wonder if he’s the guy, you know?”
She gives me a look that says she definitely knows.
Soccer star and heart-throb Croix London and I have been dating for just over six months. He’s ruggedly attractive. Sweet in that golden retriever, call-you-love kind of way. And even though our courtship has been less than conventional with a very slow burn, I’ve grown to love him.
Like a best friend.
Croix is easy. Predictable. The kind of man who brings me lunch every Wednesday, whether I’m working an early shift or a late one.
He remembers the name of every hospital nemesis I’ve ranted about, and exactly how I like my pizza.
He’s thoughtful. Consistent. Charming in that low-key kind of way that doesn’t blow you over but slowly works its way under your skin.
But if I’m being honest—painfully honest—he feels more like comfort than craving.
Warm and familiar, not wild and consuming.
Not the kind of love that flips your world upside down and leaves you breathless.
But I spend so much time inside these hospital walls, it's easier to ignore the gnawing ache that keeps whispering, this should’ve ended a long time ago.
Ms. Lilly tilts her head, eyeing me the way only a woman with decades of wisdom can. “You know what we used to say back in my day?”
I shake my head.
“If it ain’t a hell yes, baby, it’s probably a no.”
I chuckle softly, even though her words land heavy. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is. But it also doesn’t have to be hard,” she says, patting my hand. “A good man might make you feel at peace. But the right man makes you sure. Sometimes they’re the same, sometimes they’re not. But the one who’s meant for you won’t have you questioning anything.”
I stare down at my hands, her words settling in my chest like stones sinking slowly to the bottom of a river. Undeniable.
“You already know,” she adds softly. “You just don’t want to say it out loud yet.”
I lean in, kiss her cheek, and whisper goodnight. Then I walk out of her room and down the quiet hallway, heading toward the man who has never quite been my boyfriend.