Racing toward the hospital was nothing new for me, but this time I was the one whose heartbeat was skyrocketing and palms sweaty, barely keeping the need to throw up at bay. Knowing time was against me, I parked hurriedly and raced through the doors.
Sliding up to the reception desk, a guy looked up as he slid his headset off.
Gulping down the lump in my throat, I wiped my hand on my pants careful not to drop the box. “Hi. I’m looking for Doctor Charlotte Rowe,” I announced.
A smirk crept across his face as he noticed the box tucked under my arm. “I bet you are,” he replied cheekily.
Despite his sass, he gave me directions to where I might find her, and my feet were already moving as his laughter trailed behind me.
It didn't take me long to find her.
Sitting on a chair, chatting animatedly to the little girl sitting on a bed brushing Charlotte’s long hair. When she winced but kept the conversation flowing, I knew this wasn’t the first time she’d done this. While the little girl with pink cheeks and a light blue bandana added another clip to her hair, she proudly declared Charlotte was ready for the ball.
With my feet firmly set on the floor, I stayed where I was eavesdropping on their conversation. I knew I should’ve walked away, but I found myself fascinated as Charlotte agreed she was heading to the ball to find Prince Charming.
When Charlotte pushed up off the chair saying her goodbyes, I took off in the opposite direction.
“Find her?” the guy asked as I made my way toward the exit.
“Ah …” If I said yes, then he’d know I pussied out, so I did what anyone would do in my situation. I lied. “No, I didn’t. But I’ve been called back so I have to go …”
“Want me to get that to her?” he offered, pointing at the box under my arm.
I was in two minds.
Shit!
Why was this so hard?
I was so out of touch with the dating game. Had it really been that long? I had no game.
“Actually, that’d be great.”
“No worries.” I handed the box over. His eyes bounced from the box to me and back to the box. “Did you want to leave a note?”
“Do you have a pen?”
Hastily, I scribbled something cheesy on a post-it note, tucked it inside the box, and hauled ass.
9
CHARLOTTE
I can’t believeI was doing this.
I can’t believe I’d let them convince me this was a good idea.
It wasn’t.
It was a bad idea.
A very, very bad idea.
Just when I was getting ready to turn and run, I was busted.
“Can I help you?” an older gentleman with a soft smile and an expanding waist asked as he moved toward where I was lingering in the doorway.
Squaring my shoulders, I flicked my hair away trying to fake confidence. If anyone cared to look hard enough, they’d realize I was freaking out.
