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“I’d like you to come by next Monday and meet Bailey after school.”
There’s the barest hint of noise on the other end of the line, or I’d swear she’d hung up. “Are you certain?”
Turning away from the very domestic scene in front of me, I let my mind fill with nothing but the woman infiltrating my thoughts all afternoon. My dick is sending throbbing signals to my brain to slam the door on my thoughts. I give her the truth, “No.”
“Well, that’s honest.”
“I refuse to be anything but that.”
“That’s excellent to know.”
“Will you come to meet Bailey?” I send a quick prayer up to heaven she says yes. She hesitates, so I drop all pretense and admit, “I need you, Laura. More than that, my daughter needs you.”
Her breath releases in a whoosh. “What time would you like me there?”
“School gets out at two-thirty.”
“I’ll be there at three.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Her name is bellowed. “You’d better go.”
“Yes. See you Monday.”
“Wish your parents a happy anniversary.”
“I’ll pass that along,” she promises. Then there’s nothing but silence, but for the first time in weeks, the sound of silence doesn’t terrify me.
It just builds anticipation of what’s to come.
Chapter
Fourteen
“I can do this,” I tell myself as much as Kalie and Grace the day I’m to meet Bailey Payne for the first time. It’s the first time I’ll come face to face with a victim of the ER shooting who’s still alive since the altercation.
Grace captures my hand between hers. I ignore her surreptitiously taking my pulse. “You can. You conquered med school, Laura. Don’t go in expecting this to be a regular nanny gig. You’re not just some babysitter.”
“But isn’t that what you’re being asked to do,” Kalie counters. “I mean, it’s not like you can make the kid a pitcher of margaritas and talk about the weather.”
Grace gives Kalie an incredulous look before saying exactly what I’m thinking. “Sometimes I wonder if you spent too much time with Uncle Phil as a kid.”
“Cute.” Kalie’s lip is about to curl in the sneer she normally reserves for the courtroom when I swat Grace’s hand away.
“Grace, I swear if you try to take my pulse one more time, I’m adding a neon purple nose ring to your next client’s nose replacement right before you turn it over,” I threaten. As Grace is an anaplastologist, she replaces body parts of all kinds. I can just see one of her elderly clients sporting a neon purple nose ring.
She rocks back on her heels, a small smile lifting the corner of her lips. “If you’re making threats, you’re not having a panic attack.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just ...”
“What?”
“Wondering what the hell is wrong with me?” I shout, anger superseding all the other emotions I could be feeling. “Other people who were in the shooting are already back at work—including fucking Moser.”
“Is that fact or is that the hospital grapevine?” Kalie questions.
“Grapevine, but still . . .”
“Still ... was Dr. Douche the one who was held hostage?” Grace points out using the nickname I shared with them frequently utilized in the past about our chief when he was a particularly nasty piece of work.