Chapter 3

I met Alex Carter because Max came down with a fever.

That night, Max's temperature shot up to 103°F.

I rushed him straight to the children's hospital ER.

By the time I finished all the paperwork, paid the bills, and picked up his meds, the sky was already getting light.

The doctor on duty was pretty young, probably a little over thirty.

He had a mask on, so all I could see were his eyes, and honestly, they were almost distractingly attractive.

He had double eyelids and long lashes, and when he looked at me, his gaze was so focused.

It was like his eyes zoomed right in on me.

"It's a viral cold," he said, finishing up the chart and glancing up at me. "Once the fever goes down, he'll be fine.

"You look a bit pale. Do you want me to check your temperature as well?"

I waved him off. "No, I'm tired from staying up all night."

"Well, make sure you get some rest when you get home," he said, pausing for a moment. "It's not easy being a mom."

I replied absentmindedly and carried Max out in my arms.

It wasn't until I stepped outside the ER that I realized I'd forgotten to grab the medicine.

I hurried back, and when I reached the door, I saw the young doctor walking out with a plastic bag. "Here's your medicine," he said.

I took it from him. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said, pulling off his mask to reveal a neat, handsome face. He gave me a shy smile.

"You're Olivia, right?" he asked.

I froze. "You know me?"

He said, "I'm Alex Carter. We went to the same high school. I was two years below you.

"You were the student council president. Every time you gave a speech, we'd all be in the crowd listening."

I suddenly remembered. "Oh, you're that basketball guy, right?"

"Yeah, that's me," Alex said, his eyes lighting up. "You remember?"

"Yeah, your team played really well that year," I replied.

He smiled, then pointed at my phone, looking a little shy.

"Can I add you on WhatsApp? If your kid ever needs anything, let me know. I'm a pediatrician," he said.

I thought for a second and then added him on WhatsApp.

On the way home, Max asked, half-asleep, "Mom, who was that guy now?"

"An old classmate," I replied.

"He's really good-looking," Max said.

"Yeah," I said.

"Mom, your face is all red," Max teased.

"You're the one with the fever, not me," I shot back.

Max giggled and drifted off to sleep again.

I wasn't blushing. Seriously, I wasn't.

But on the way home that day, I suddenly realized it had been forever since I'd chatted with a guy my age about anything besides the usual routine.

Back then, my life was basically a straight line connecting my husband, my kid, and my job. Nothing else.

After the divorce, all I had left was my kid and my job.

Turned out, when one ended up living like an island, it was not because nobody wanted to come close. It was that one forgot to put up a sign that read, "Welcome."

The second time I saw Alex was two weeks later.

He told me Max was due for a follow-up and asked when I'd be available.

I told him my schedule, and he said that worked for him.

He happened to be off that day, so he could squeeze us in for an extra appointment.

When we got there, I realized he wasn't actually off that day. He had rushed over from home.

"Weren't you supposed to be off today?" I asked.

He scratched his head. "I was supposed to be, but a colleague took the day off, so I got called back in."

"Then why did you say you were off?" I asked.

"I was worried you'd think it was a hassle and decide not to come," he said honestly. "Max needed a follow-up, and if you had to wait in line for an appointment, it would've been a pain."

I looked at him, not sure what to say.

Max tugged at my sleeve and whispered, "Mom, that guy is really nice."

I shot him a look, but he pretended not to notice.

After the follow-up, Alex walked us out and suddenly asked, "Are you free sometime soon?"

"What's up?" I asked.

"I was wondering if you'd like to grab a meal with me," he said, looking genuinely serious. "Don't get me wrong. I wanted to talk. That's all."

I stared at him for a moment.

His eyes, so attractive it was almost unfair, held a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

I'd only been divorced for four months.

And I remembered what my mom always said, "Divorced women should be reserved, or people will talk."

But what I remembered most was last week's company outing.

Everyone started talking about the last time they felt butterflies in their stomach.

I thought about it for ages, but honestly, I had no clue.

"Alright," I heard myself say. "But I'll have to bring my son."

Max immediately raised his hand. "Alex, I'm not picky at all."

Alex smiled, his face lighting up like a kid who found a treasure.

This year, at thirty-six, I suddenly realized something.

Feeling my heart flutter wasn't about age or whether I'd been through a divorce.

It was only about whether I was ready to let myself be a woman who could feel those butterflies again.