Page 61 of Peach Cobbler Confessions
“It’s my pleasure.”
Our group disbands, and Noah, Everett, and I head out into the hall right here in the maternity ward.
I pull Noah and Everett in close.
“Thank you both. You’re real troopers and I appreciate your support. What a wild ride. Happy Birthday, Noah. This was one for the books.”
The three of us share a warm laugh as Everett pulls me in close.
“Let’s get you home.” He dots a kiss to my forehead. “You’ve got to be exhausted.”
“Oh, I am.”
We turn to leave just as a familiar face comes our way.
“Dr. Barnette.” I brighten at the sight of her.
Dr. Barnette is an OB/GYN who’s a stunning brunette with a winning smile. I initially met her last December when Noah thought I was pregnant and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t in fear he’d fall back into a coma. Then we met up again the day after Dane’s murder when I took the pregnancy test and she drew my blood work. “You’ve had a busy night,” I say as we share a warm laugh.
“Lottie.” She nods my way, but her eyes snag on Everett. Can’t really blame her. Even with a still slightly swollen lip, he is a specimen. Noah too.
Her eyes widen a notch. “Essex?”
Oh hell.
I glower up at him a moment.
Is no one sacred?
He offers a ratherguiltybrief smile my way before nodding back at her.
“Priscilla.” A dull laugh rumbles in his chest. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” she purrs as her lids hood low. She eyes his hand around my waist and her lips twist. “I see you’re making the rounds.” She winks over at him.
“Priscilla”—he warms me with his arm—“this is my wife.”
I nod over at her. “That’s me,” I sing with a touch of pride before wincing at Noah, and he shakes his head as if it were fine.
“Wow”—she muses—“I guess some leopards really do change their spots.” She frowns over at Noah. “Hey? Weren’t you the one that came into my office with Lottie last year? I remember you—the homicide detective.”
Great. She’s probably going to hit on Noah, too.
“He’s actually with me as well.” I shrug up at Everett with a little nonverbal apology. I can’t help it, though. It’s late—or more to the point, very early the next morning, and I don’t feel like sharing.
Dr. Barnette’s lips part with confusion.
“So who’s the father?” She laughs as she looks to the three of us.
A laugh bubbles from me as well. “We’re actually just visiting. My best friend, Keelie, just gave birth—and my sister, Lainey, did, too. That was the delivery you just helped with.”
She nods. “I know about Keelie and Lainey. But the father of your child, Lottie, which is it?” Her mouth rounds out as she looks to Everett. “Essex? Are you going to be a father? Congratulations!”
“Dr. Barnette.” I hold a hand up. “I took a test in your office and it came back negative. I’d hate for Noah or Everett to think I was having a baby. Please make it crystal clear to them that I am not having anyone’s child.” The words come out tight as if all the tension these last few weeks combined had sifted through them.
She tips her head with a quizzical look on her face before heading over to a computer stationed a few feet over.
She shakes her head. “No, that’s not right. I was just looking at your blood work yesterday when it landed on my desk. I remember thinking you and your sister would have children close in age.” She dances her fingers over the keyboard and the screen populates with my name as she brings up my chart.