“Already back to normal,” Ethan muses behind us, and Tenley smiles, looking more relieved. Then she hands Jake off to Ethan to take care of their bill.
“Hey, Cheryl,” I begin, leaning over the desk toward the billing receptionist. “Would you mind making a note of Jake’s diagnosis in his chart?”
“Of course, Doc. But it’s not actuallyJake, is it?”
“Yes, sorry. It’s short forJoseph Drake the Fourth,” Tenley answers, already digging for her wallet.
“You can write off their copays, too,” I add, and Cheryl nods as she clicks on a keyboard.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Tenley says quickly.
I shrug. “I guess we’re technically family now, right?”
She stops and nods. “I guess so. Thanks, Landry.”
“Yeah, thanks,N’oncle,” Ethan echoes sarcastically behind me. I’m tempted to jerk my elbow back, but then I remember he’s holding Jake.
“See you around, Ethan,” I say through my teeth instead.
Dr. Broussard comes up then and greets Tenley. They make small talk for a few minutes until Jake fusses again, and Dr. Broussard turns to me once they go.
“If you don’t have another patient waiting, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he tells me, holding up a hefty chart.
I take it and flip through the patient’s files. They detail the story of a ten-year-old boy named David who’s been struggling to regulate his Type 1 diabetes symptoms since infancy. But things seem to have taken a positive turn in the last few months, which is probably why I haven’t seen him around.
“What changed?” I mumble to myself as I skim over his latest test results. My eyes catch on a mention of his DAD, and I realize what’s been making the difference for him. “He got a diabetic alert dog?”
“Yes,” Dr. Broussard confirms. “It took a while to make it happen, but David’s dog can scent the ketones and isoprene in his blood stream and alert him before his glucose levels spike or drop, giving them enough time to adjust his insulin or get some carbs into his system. It’s been a game changer for them, and David can finally do some of the things he’s always wanted, including playing sports.”
I hum thoughtfully. “I imagine it gives his parents some peace of mind.”
“As well as his pediatrician,” he adds, smiling.
One of the medical assistants opens the door then, and a gangly boy wearing goggles for glasses charges in with a chocolate labradoodle hot on his heels. A woman with similar features trails behind.
“Hey, David!” Dr. Broussard greets him.
“Hey, Dr. B,” the boy returns, reaching up to deliver a high five and marching on as if he owns the place.
I chuckle to myself and follow them into the exam room, where Dr. Broussard introduces me and David tells me about his best friend, Mack. Mack sits up from his place at David’s feet as soon as he hears his name and turns to give the boy’s hand an affectionate lick.
David’s mom answers a few of my questions about their lives with a service animal and tells me about the overall improvement in David’s health, such as his recent weight gain. David proudly relays that he’s grown an inch and gained a few pounds since his last visit, and we talk about football for a few minutes before they go. Then I ask Dr. Broussard more about the nonprofit organization that trains and places dogs like Mack and the application process.
I see a few more patients before the end of the day, including another toddler with Roseola, and I get home later that afternoon to find Daisy watering her plants on the front porch. She grins and waves at me as if she’s genuinely happy to see me.
She may be the only person who’s ever made me feel that way, but I shouldn’t have let myself get used to it. For the first time in a while, I’m reminded that our time is limited. Things are going to have to change soon.
Daisy should get the all-clear to drive in a couple of months, barring any more episodes. She’s also been preparing for her certification exam so she can qualify for that permanent teaching position and full benefits. And once she doesn’t need me to taxi her around or share my health insurance, there won’t be any reasons left for us to live together or stay married.
An unexpected pang of regret pierces my chest at the thought of divorcing her, of leaving this home we’ve made together over the last few months, of leaving Daisy. It’s going to be much, much harder than I thought.
I groan and run my hand through my hair. I never should have let her go through with this in the first place. It was selfish of me to make that offer to marry her knowing she didn’t have any other options aside from running home to her parents. Rowan was right before—I needed someone new to take care of, and helping Daisy was like switching from one addiction to another. I’d stopped smoking only to start drinking. And I’m not sure I have the willpower to quit this time.
CHAPTER 26
landry
“Well,hey, you two. Go on in and enjoy the game.”
