“Go,” Emily said, taking my plate for me while I shoved in whatever was left on it. “And text me when you can, so I know you’re still breathing.”

We kissed cheeks, and I rushed out of the room. As I headed down the hallway, I typed Caleb a message.

Me: And maybe a second date too …

Caleb: Looking forward to both.

Twenty

“Good Lord, woman,” Emily said as she walked into my bedroom. “You look all kinds of sexy.”

“Are you sure?” I turned in the mirror, undecided if the top hugged me the right way or if it was the most unflattering shirt I owned. “I’ve already changed three times.”

She moved in front of me, blocking my view while she gripped my shoulders. “Whit, you could make puke-green pleats look hot. You could also wear a trash bag, and I don’t think Caleb would care.”

“Not true.” I shook my head, feeling my curls bounce. “You’re forgetting he’s Ben Affleck delicious, and men like that don’t date garbage bags.”

“You’re forgetting you’re more beautiful than Jennifer Garner, so there’s that too.”

I laughed and thought about my interactions with Caleb over the last week. I’d spent four nights at the hospital following the bombing, and then it had taken two days of sleep before I felt normal enough to function. Each morning, he’d sent a text to check on me, never pushing to come up with a date for us to meet, but making it clear he wanted to see me.

“You know my unfiltered ass would tell you if your outfit sucked. That isn’t the case; it’s perfect on you.” She released my shoulders and walked over to the bed. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

I shrugged. “He wouldn’t tell me.”

“He sure does like the element of surprise.”

“And adrenaline,” I replied, remembering one of the conversations we’d had before I went to the restroom, when he’d told me about some of the adventures he’d taken.

I got the sense he was the type of man who never sat still. During my downtime, still was all I wanted, constantly catching up on sleep from the hours that had drained me at the hospital. It had become a cycle that Emily was always trying to drag me out of.

But I couldn’t let go of my job—my past kept me chained there—the same way I couldn’t leave the specialty of ortho/neuro.

“So, he’s outdoorsy?” she asked.

“It sounds like he does it all—land and sea.”

She looked amused. “And my best friend is, like, this beautiful oyster, just waiting to be plucked and eaten from her shell.”

The hoops banged into my cheeks as I reacted to her. “I can’t with you.” I glanced in the mirror again. “Time check?”

“Ten minutes.”