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Bailey perks up. “Really?”
“Truly. But it comes with a price,” Alice warns.
I deliver the bad news. “Laura needs to up your PT, Buttercup.”
Bailey’s face is conflicted. She hates physical therapy—the fatigue and weakness she’s left with afterward when all she wants is to feel normal. I pluck her out of her chair and onto my lap. “Listen, it could be worse.”
“How?” she wails.
“Instead of Laura helping you, you could have more appointments here,” I point out.
Bailey, trusting now that I’ll protect her, leans back and throws her arms up in the air. “Yay, Laura!”
My mind flashes with an image of the gorgeous doctor as Bailey yells her proclamation to the ceiling. Not long after, we’re wrapping up our appointment and heading down to X-ray.
I shoot Laura a text:
Liam:
We’re off to X-ray.
Laura:
That’s exciting.
Liam:
For you. Bailey was less than thrilled to know you’re going to up her PT.
Laura’s next text comes through and it makes no sense.
Laura:
I’m soaked!
Yes, even between my cheeks. It’s not funny!
Liam:
???
Laura:
Oops. Sorry, Liam. My watch picked up... never mind.
I give myself a second before I give in to temptation enough to ask.
Liam:
But now I’m curious. Come on, doc. Spill it.
Laura:
She already did!
Liam:
Oh?