Daphne
A week later, I stood outside La Bella Vita, a cozy Italian restaurant downtown, smoothing my little black dress. My silver heels glittered in the dark, and my stomach fluttered with nerves and excitement. This was our first real date, outside the hospital’s walls.
I’d spent an hour picking the perfect outfit, curling my hair, and fixing my makeup, something I never did for night shifts. Brad had texted me the reservation details yesterday, and I’d been counting the hours since.
I pushed open the door and scanned the room. Brad was already there, at a corner table, looking disgustingly handsome in a fitted shirt with a black jacket and dark jeans. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he stood, grinning.
“Daphne,” he said, pulling me into a quick hug. “Holy s**t, look at you.”
I
