I smiled. “Hey, we’ve all had those days.”
That’s how it started. Daniel had this steady, calming presence that felt like a balm to the chaos I was used to. He remembered I liked cinnamon in my latte, always texted to check if I got home safely, and never made me feel like I had to earn his affection.
After years of dating emotionally unavailable men who treated relationships like temporary distractions, Daniel felt like something solid. Like home.
“I have a son,” he told me over dinner on our third date. “Evan. He’s thirteen. His mom left when he was eight. It’s been just the two of us for a while.”
“I’d love to meet him,” I said.
His face lit up. “Seriously? Most women run.”
“Not running,” I smiled. “Unless you give me a reason to.”
Meeting Evan was… complicated. He was polite, sure. But distant. Guarded. Like he’d built an emotional fortress and posted “No Trespassing” signs at every corner.
