Page 17 of Single Daddy Doctor Dreamy

“Yeah,” he says, his voice hoarse. “We should.”

But neither of us moves, the moment stretching out like the tide, holding us in its grasp.

The drive home is quieter, the boys tired from their adventures and the car filled with the soft sound of the radio. Joel’s hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles pale, but his expression is calm. I steal glances at him, my heart still racing from the kiss.

When we pull into the driveway, the boys tumble out of the car, their energy returning in bursts as they race toward the house. Joel and I linger for a moment, the silence between us filled with everything we can’t say.

“Thanks for today,” he says finally, his voice low.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I reply. “I… I just wanted to help.”

His lips twitch like he wants to smile, but he doesn’t. Instead, he nods and follows the boys inside, leaving me standing in the driveway, the fall air swirling around me.

I stand there for a moment, watching the last sliver of daylight disappear behind the trees. There’s something about today that feels different. It’s both thrilling and terrifying.

When I finally step inside, the house is warm and alive with the sound of the boys’ laughter. Joel is in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He glances up when I walk in, his green eyes meeting mine. For a second, the world fades, and it’s just us.

“Lucy,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the noise.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll deal with the boys tonight. You go get some rest, you deserve it,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest smile.

I nod, my heart pounding as I retreat to my room. As I close the door behind me, I lean against it, my mind replaying the kiss, the look in his eyes, the way his voice softened when he said my name. I’ve been in love before, but this… this feels like something else entirely.

8

JOEL

Sunday night stretches out like an eternity. The house is quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling in for the night and the croak of a frog outside. I’m in bed, staring at the ceiling, but my mind refuses to settle. The kiss with Lucy plays on a loop, tangled up with the looming announcement on Monday.

I glance at the clock: 2:17 a.m. Sleep feels impossible. Every time I close my eyes, my thoughts spiral. What if I’m not on the list? Worse, what if I am? Being a candidate for chief of staff is a career-defining opportunity, but the pressure and Rivkin’s presence, makes it feel more like a minefield.

By the time my alarm buzzes at 6:00 a.m., I’ve barely managed three hours of restless sleep. I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water scald away some of the tension. When I finally step into the kitchen, Lucy’s there, flipping pancakes, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looks over her shoulder and smiles, but there’s a flicker of concern in her eyes.

“Morning,” she says softly.

“Morning,” I reply, my voice rough with exhaustion.

The boys barrel into the kitchen, their energy a stark contrast to my lethargy. Lucy hands me a plate of pancakes, her fingers brushing mine. It’s such a small gesture, but it steadies me more than she probably realizes.

At the hospital, the air is electric. Everyone’s talking about the chief of staff announcement, their voices hushed but eager. I try to keep my head down as I make my way to my office, but it’s impossible to ignore the whispers.

“Anderson’s got a shot, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, but Rivkin… you know how he plays, and he seems to have it out for Dr. Anderson.”

I grit my teeth and push open my office door. Sitting at my desk, I boot up my computer and pull up my email. My heart pounds as I click on the message from the board. The subject line reads:Chief of Staff Candidates Announced.

I take a deep breath and open it. There it is, in black and white:Joel Anderson, MD.My name is the first on the list. Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived as my eyes scan down to the next name:Elliot Rivkin, MD.

Now it all makes sense. Rivkin’s snide remarks, the cryptic warnings, the note left at my office door. He’s been gunning for this job, just like me. But unlike me, he’s not above playing dirty.

My phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s Janet.

“Congratulations,” she says when I answer. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I just saw the list.”

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