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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 matterwhere 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 differentsetting, 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 herselfto 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.