Chapter Six
Camille
Friday night found me sitting at my kitchen table, laptop propped open for a Zoom class while the kids quietly watched a movie on the couch.
The girls munched on those Gerber star-shaped puffed snacks that stuck to everything.
Zeke was curled up with a blanket, and for once the apartment wasn’t a circus.
My professor’s voice droned through the screen about upcoming presentations, but my eyelids kept fluttering.
It wasn’t that I didn’t care; I cared too much. I wanted this degree more than anything. But after a full shift at the doctor’s office, making the kids dinner, and wrangling the kids into clean clothes after a bath, my brain was fried.
How was I supposed to pour into clients when I felt stretched this thin? When my coping skills consisted of coffee and hope. And how could I even consider letting someone new, like Hunter, into this already overstuffed life?
I sat at the kitchen table after class, phone in hand. His message from earlier still waited: Want to grab ice cream this weekend? I started drafting a polite excuse, then deleted it. Typed another, deleted again. My thumb hovered over the screen, heart racing with doubt.
That’s when Dani barged in, like she had radar for my self-sabotage.
She flung off her flip flops in a dramatic thud, plopped onto the couch across from me, greeting the kids with hugs and tickles, and held up a milkshake with a flourish.
Mischief clung to her like perfume. She was loud, unignorable, and exactly what I needed, which fit her in her new position as an attorney in the public defender’s office.
“Saved your life again,” she announced, shoving the too-large cup in my direction.
I laughed despite myself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously loyal,” she corrected, putting her hair up in a clip.
Dani helped with the kids most Friday nights, often staying over.
She claimed it was because her place was too far, but I knew better.
She stayed when I was burning out, when exhaustion was written across my face, when the weight of bills and homework and single motherhood pressed too heavily.
More mornings than I could count, I’d woken to the smell of cinnamon rolls in the kitchen.
Zeke would beam with pride, sticky fingers dusted in flour as he carried me a plate, bragging that he’d “helped.” Food and sleep were her weapons of choice, and she wielded them like armor for me.
She glanced toward the kids on the rug, then leaned forward, zeroing in on me. “Okay, spill. Why do you look like you’re about to break up with someone you haven’t even dated yet?” she demanded.
I sighed, shoving my phone across the table. “I can’t do this, Dani. Work, school, kids. How do I add dating on top of it? It feels impossible.”
She slurped her chocolate milkshake obnoxiously, then set it down. “Let me answer that with another question: when’s the last time someone made you laugh so hard you forgot your stress for even a minute?”
My throat tightened. I knew exactly when. Mini golf. Hunter’s grin. His teasing voice calling me Beautiful.
Dani leaned forward, her tone softening. “ It’s okay to let yourself have fun. Even if it’s complicated. You don’t have to cancel him out of fear.” I sat in that moment as Avery climbed into my lap, rubbing sleepy eyes. I rubbed her back lightly as I processed the weight of Dani’s words.
I blinked at her, tears pricking my eyes. “But what if he leaves? What if he decides I’m too much?”
“Then that’s on him,” she said firmly. “Not on you. You’ve survived worse.”
The silence stretched. My heart pounded, thumb hovering over the keyboard as doubt started to creep in. Before I could spiral, Dani broke it with her trademark grin.
“Plus,” she said, leaning back and sipping her milkshake casually, “you know if he hurts my bestie or my nieces and nephew, I’ll just have to kill him.” She laughed, the sound bright and ridiculous in the heavy air.
I couldn’t help it,I smiled, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”
“Insanely loyal,” she corrected, winking. And just like that, the knot in my chest loosened.
Finally, I typed: Ice Cream sounds good. Sunday?
The reply came almost instantly.
Hunter: Perfect. I’ll pick the place. And I
promise not to make you play mini
golf again. Yet.
I smiled, setting the phone down. The exhaustion was still there, the fear still lingering at the edges, the past still a shadow I couldn’t fully shake. But beneath all of it, something new stirred; a flicker of warmth somewhere between anticipation and quiet excitement