Page 5 of Single Daddy Doctor Dreamy

“It was a tower,” he says, gesturing to the scattered blocks. “I was making it taller, and Finn wanted to put the top piece on, but then he pushed too hard, and… boom.” He throws his hands in the air for emphasis.

Lucy glances at Finn. “Is that true?”

Finn nods, his eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to!”

“I know you didn’t,” she says, giving him a gentle hug. “But next time, maybe work together instead of rushing. Towers need teamwork—they only stand tall when everyone does their part.”

Miles furrows his brow. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does,” Lucy counters with a grin. “Now clean up this mess before dinner. Deal?”

“Deal,” the boys say in unison, already scrambling to gather the blocks. She stands and dusts off her hands, catching my eye. “Crisis averted.”

I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe. “You’re good at this.”

“Years of practice with my brother’s antics,” she says, flashing a grin. “Plus, kids are easy. Adults are the tricky ones.”

“Tricky how?” I ask, genuinely curious.

She shrugs, her smile fading slightly. “Kids say what they mean. Adults don’t. Everything with grown-ups feels like a game sometimes, and I was never particularly good at games.”

Her words linger in the air, and I want to ask more, but she turns away, her usual brightness slipping back into place. “Now, what’s for dinner, Dr. Anderson?”

“Spaghetti. A family favorite.” I say, deciding to let her deflection slide.

Her face lights up. “I’ll get the garlic bread started. You handle the sauce?”

For the next hour, we fall into an easy rhythm in the kitchen. The boys pop in and out, occasionally trying to sneak bites of bread or spoonfuls of sauce. Lucy keeps them in line with a mix of teasing and quick wit, and I can’t help but marvel at how seamlessly she’s fit into our lives.

By the time dinner is on the table, the boys are practically bouncing in their seats. Lucy sits across from me, her laughter mingling with theirs as she tells a story about the time her brother tried to build a treehouse and got stuck halfway up.

“Uncle Aiden was so mad,” she says, her blue eyes sparkling. “But he didn’t want to call for help, so he made me climb up and get him down.”

“You climbed a tree?” Miles asks, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Of course,” Lucy says, puffing out her chest dramatically. “I’m a superhero. Didn’t you know?”

Finn giggles, and Miles looks impressed. I catch myself smiling and quickly focus on my plate. She’s making it too easy to forget the boundaries I promised Aiden I’d keep.

After dinner, the boys retreat upstairs to play, leaving Lucy and me to tackle the dishes. She hums softly as she scrubs a pot, the sound oddly soothing.

“You’ve got a knack for this,” I say, drying a plate.

“For washing dishes?” she teases.

“For making things feel… normal,” I admit. “It’s been a while since this house felt like a home.”

Her hands still for a moment, but she doesn’t look at me. “Well, I’m glad I can help. The boys are great. And you’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Anderson.”

It’s meant to be lighthearted, but there’s something in her tone that makes my chest tighten. I don’t trust myself to reply, soI focus on the task at hand. The silence between us feels heavier than it should, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s… something else.

By the time the kitchen is clean, I’m more conflicted than ever. When I told her that the house hadn’t felt like a home in a long time, I meant it. Ever since my wife, Lina died of cancer two years ago, it’s felt empty. Like I’ve been living through the motions but not really living. It’s so different with Lucy here. Aiden’s warning was clear, but staying indifferent feels impossible when she’s right here, lighting up the house with her laughter and turning my carefully ordered life upside down.

The hospital is chaos the next morning. A full moon or some other cosmic force has turned the ER into a madhouse, lots of need for an orthopedic surgeon, and I’m running on caffeine and adrenaline by the time my shift ends. I’m halfway to my car when I hear my name.

“Dr. Anderson! A word?”

I turn to find Dr. Rivkin, my esteemed colleague, and occasional thorn in my side, striding toward me. His expression is smug, which never bodes well.

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