The third date with Susan was supposed to be the charm. We'd met on Tinder — her profile was a perfect mix of witty banter and effortless beauty. After two great dates and a dreamy stroll in the park, I was ready to take things to the next level.

That night, I picked a cozy Italian restaurant tucked away from the usual hustle. It was the perfect backdrop for soft candlelight and deep conversation over wine and pasta.

Susan arrived in a navy dress that hugged her figure just right, her hair cascading over her shoulders. She smiled, and I thought, Wow, this might actually be something.

The waiter had just set down a basket of fresh bread when the sound of the door swinging open grabbed my attention. At first, I ignored it. But then I heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, hey, Rob! Fancy seeing you here!"

I froze mid-reach for the breadstick. Standing at the entrance, unmistakably Linda from accounting. Her bright floral dress clashed with the scene, but that wasn't the real problem. No, the real problem was the three kids clinging to her, each armed with loud, sticky energy.

"Linda?" I managed, blinking.

She marched over with her kids toward our table. "You didn't tell me you were coming here tonight!" she said.

Susan's confused glance darted between Linda and me. "Friend of yours?" she asked, her tone cautious.

"Colleague," I corrected, a forced smile plastered on my face as Linda plopped her kids into chairs at our table.

"It's packed tonight," Linda said, casually stealing a breadstick. "I figured we'd join you. You don't mind, do you?"

Oh, I minded. I really minded.

Linda had always been an enigma. A single mom of three — ages two, eight, and 12 — from two failed relationships, she was equally magnetic and intimidating.

Around the office, she commanded attention with her sharp intellect and striking beauty, though she kept everyone at arm's length. I admired her resilience, devotion to her kids, and ability to balance chaos with grace.

But that admiration was from afar — strictly professional. Besides, a woman like Linda? She's completely out of my league.

But tonight, as she slid into the booth beside me with her kids, her aura wasn't awe-inspiring. It was suffocating.

"Linda, what are you doing here?" I stammered, my voice low, my eyes darting toward Susan, whose confusion had quickly hardened into annoyance.

"Oh, don't be silly," Linda replied, casually placing her hand on mine. I instinctively pulled back. "You promised to watch the kids tonight, and here you are... having dinner with her?" She nodded toward Susan as if she were an unwelcome guest.

Susan's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice sharp.

Linda wasn't fazed. "I mean, we're a family." She gestured to her children, now happily devouring the breadbasket. "The kids were so excited to see you tonight!"

"Linda, I never promised—"

She cut me off. "Really, Rob? You're going to pretend this isn't a thing in front of her?"

"Pretend what's a thing?" Susan demanded, standing now, her face a mix of disbelief and fury.

Linda shrugged, a smug grin spreading across her face. "I didn't mean to ruin your date, Susan. But you should know the kind of man you're seeing. He's been leading me — and the kids — on for months."

My heart stopped. "What? Linda, stop this!" I hissed, glancing around. Other diners were starting to notice.

Susan grabbed her purse. "You two clearly have... unfinished business," she snapped, glaring at me like I was something stuck to her shoe. She turned on her heel and stormed out.

I stood to follow her, but Linda's toddler, an adorable baby girl, clung to my leg.

The restaurant went silent.