Gabrielle
It’s been a week now since I ran into Cameron at the hospital, and I still haven’t called him. I’ve been too scared.
Too scared to get my hopes back up. Too scared to have him back in my life. Too scared to go through the same pain if he ever had to leave again after I let him back in.
As I’m lying on the couch in my apartment, staring up at the ceiling, I unfold the piece of paper with his number on it for the tenth time today.
Even though I saved his number in my phone as soon as I got onto the train after leaving the hospital that day, I keep wanting to look at the same stupid piece of paper with his stupid handwriting on it and his stupid, cute little note.
Hot chocolate and old friends.
-Doctor’s recommendation.
He really became a doctor. I can’t even wrap my head around everything that has happened in both of our lives since we last saw each other.
I mean, if there was anyone who could accomplish something they set their mind to, no matter how big or how crazy it sounded, Cam would be the one to do it.
The number of crazy ideas he could come up with and actually make happen always amazed me.
Like when he organized the hospital’s first-ever Halloween costume parade by making all the Doctors and nurses sign a petition and then writing a speech about how healing isn’t just about medicine, it’s also about finding joy to keep you alive.
(Yes, little twelve-year-old Cam did that.)
Or when he finally convinced our floor nurses to let us have an IV pole drag race. He promised them to stay out of trouble for a whole month if they let us have a secret tournament when the doctors were all away.
We put empty shoe boxes on the bottoms of the poles to make fake engines, and even gave prizes to the top winners.
Of course, first place got to have endless chocolate pudding whenever they wanted for the next week.
My favorite was his hot chocolate cart initiative. I think he made that one happen just for me, though.
He talked the cafeteria manager into running a hot chocolate cart once a week, and the nurses volunteered to wheel it around the unit, passing out drinks to patients. He even got the doctors to write us fake prescriptions that said ‘one dose of comfort, as needed.’
He’s always been a go-getter and would make whatever he dreamed up actually happen. I couldn’t be prouder of him for what he’s accomplished. And knowing why he wanted to be in Peds Oncology makes it even more special.
When are you going to stop daydreaming about the man and actually call him?
I stare at the note one last time before tucking it back into my side table drawer.
I pick up my phone and stare at his name in my contact list.
Chickening out, I scroll down and hit Kinsley’s name and then hit the FaceTime button.
Three rings later, I’m greeted with a bubbly, very pretty, little blonde woman who’s suspiciously way too happy all the time.
“Gabbyyyy!!!” She answers, just like she always does. “What’s up, boss?”
“Can you stop calling me that outside of work, Kinsley? Scratch that. Can you stop calling me that in general?” I sigh, placing a finger on my temple.
“Why? It has a ring to it.”
“Because I’m not actually your boss, and you’re my best friend, it’s weird.”
“You’re right. Your ex boo thang is ‘technically’ my boss,” she grimaces. “But you’re next in line, and you’re way more fun than him, so I just pretend that I only have to answer to you. Also…I love it when you call me your best friend,” she coos.
“Kinsley, you’re my best friend because you’re my only friend.”
“Still. It’s an honor to hold the title.”
“I don’t know why I put up with you,” I sigh.
“Because you love me. And like you said.” She cocks her head to the side and gives me a pointed look. “I’m the only friend you’ve got.” Then she shrugs, and we both laugh.
“So, really, what’s up?” she asks.
I sigh, shifting on the couch and pulling a blanket up over my legs. “I need your advice.”
Kinsley’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Is Gabrielle Voss admitting to me that she needs help? Whoa, hold on, I think I need to sit down. This feels like a big moment for our relationship.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Can you be normal for two seconds, please?”
“Absolutely not. But go on.” She leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “What’s the problem? Do I need to help you dispose of a body? Because I’d like at least a 24-hour heads-up before we go full Bonnie and Clyde.”
I groan, continuing to rub my temples. “No. I ran into Cam last week.”
She goes silent before letting out a high-pitched screech, almost dropping her phone in the process.
“WHAT?! GAbrIELLE, WHAT?!”
I wince at her sheer volume and over-excitement. “Geez, Kins. Are you trying to make me deaf?”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JUST CASUALLY DROPPED THAT LIKE YOU TOLD ME YOU RAN INTO A COWORKER AT TARGET! YOU SAW CAM!”
“It’s not that big of a deal, and please, lower your voice, girl,” I mutter, suddenly regretting this conversation entirely.
Kinsley gapes at me. “Not that big of a deal?! Gabrielle, are you serious? I’ve heard you talk about this man for YEARS. Literal YEARS. And you expect me to just—be calm?” She flails dramatically, nearly knocking over whatever is on her countertop.
I place my fingers on the bridge of my nose. “Kins, please—”
“No, no, you don’t get to beg for peace now. You’ve spent years comparing every guy you’ve dated to Cameron Freaking Hayes, and now the universe has handed you a second chance on a silver platter, and you’re—what? Ignoring it? You said it’s been a whole week since you ran into him?”
I let out a slow breath, “I’m not ignoring it. I just…haven’t called him yet.”
Kinsley groans dramatically. “Anddd…why not?”
I hesitate before answering her, gripping my blanket a little tighter. “Because I don’t know if I can go through it again, Kins.”
Her expression softens. “Through what?”
“Through losing him all over again.” The words feel heavier than I expect them to. “I spent years trying to get over him, Kins. I had convinced myself that I had moved on. And now, all of a sudden, he’s back in my life, and I just…I don’t know if I can do it again.”
Kinsley tilts her head a bit, studying me. “You think he’s going to leave again?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “He didn’t leave on purpose last time, but it still shattered me. What if I let him back in, and it happens all over again?”
She’s quiet for a moment before sighing. “Okay. I get it. But also…you’re thinking way too far ahead. No one is saying you have to fall back in love and start planning your wedding tomorrow. Just…talk to him.”
I frown. “Talk to him?”
How do I just talk to someone I was at one point so in love with?
“Yes. You don’t even have to call. Just text him. Less pressure, no real-time reactions, and if you regret it, you can always delete his number and ghost him afterward.”
I give her a flat look. “So your solution is…just text him?”
“Yes. A casual, low-stakes text. You don’t have to pour your heart out. Just…start somewhere.”
I chew my lip, staring at my phone. “And say what?”
Kinsley thinks for a moment, then grins. “Something light. Flirty. Playful. Like, maybe something funny that has to do with your weird obsession with hot chocolate because of him.”
I blink. “That’s…actually not terrible.”
She gasps. “Did you just compliment me? I need this recorded—”
I roll my eyes and, before I can overthink it, type out the message.
Gabrielle: So…what’s the best hot chocolate you’ve had since being back in the city? Trying to find new recommendations.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
Then immediately panic.
“Oh my gosh, I just sent it.”
Kinsley cheers like she just won the lottery. “Hell yeah, you did!”
I stare at my phone like it’s a ticking time bomb. “What if this was a mistake?”
Then, my phone vibrates and a text notification with the name Dr. Hot Chocolate pops up.
My stomach flips.
Kinsley gasps. “What was that? DID HE JUST TEXT BACK?!”
I click the notification to read the message.
“Well? What did he say, Gab?” Kinsley pushes.
Dr. Hot Chocolate: That depends. Are we talking about the best-tasting, or the kind that makes you feel like a kid again, sneaking pudding cups and making bad decisions?