When she made it back to diagnostics, she was intercepted by Katy, the radiology services director as she grabbed her tablet. “Tabitha Five years old. Heart murmur. Hot dad. No ring.”
The look in Katy’s eye told Poppy this PW code may have had less to do with Tabitha’s age or any possible anxiety and was more likely a setup.
“The dad asked for you by name,” Katy added with a wink. “Said he was referred.”
Okay, maybe Poppy was wrong. Maybe this wasn’t a setup. Maybe her reputation had preceded her. She continued down the hallway to the waiting area and found a little girl with springy blonde curls that fell down past her shoulder and huge bright blue eyes. Her father was seated in the corner, which was cast in a shadow.
“Tabitha St. Claire?” Poppy called out.
“That’s me!” The girl jumped up excitedly, hand lifted in the air.
When Tabitha’s father stood, Poppy could notnotnotice him, which was something she resented on principle.
He grinned. “Deacon.”
“Poppy.”
She’d never been into the whole “hot single dad” thing. In fact, it had always irritated her. She understood the psychology behind women being attracted to single dads, thinking that they are mature, responsible, stable, and nurturing, capable of commitment and emotional depth, but it was just so infuriating that men got so much credit for doing what single moms did all the time and got none. Still, even she had to admit this one could have played a hot dad on TV. He wore dark jeans and a very normal shirt, but the effect was...something. Maybe it was the fact that he was at least six foot two, or the way his chest seemed to fill up the room, or maybe the dark hair that looked both unruly and purposefully tousled, as if his morning routine involved neither comb nor care, just a hand raked through in the car on the way over. The square jawline, the shadow of stubble, and the way his eyes were some shade of brown so deep it was nearly black, they all screamed Tall, Dark, and Handsome, but with an edge. Not a dangerous edge, but a jaggedness, like he’d been through something. The kind of dad who would show up to a dance recital in a Henley and stand in the back with his arms crossed, but if anyone looked sideways at his daughter, he’d take them outside.
He was all of that, and yet… she felt nothing. Zilch. Nada. Maybe it was because he was too perfect, like he was AI or something. Or maybe it was because Poppy’s brain was bruised from her appointment with Steph, and it refused to let her feel anything in the direction of men at all. It was like she’d become immune to the entire species, an evolutionary trick, like a carnivorous plant that suddenly decided to swear off bugs.
It was as if her mind decided that if she was not going to reproduce, then there was no need for her to find men attractive, and it had given her libido a vacation. If that was the case, it was going to make her plan for a passionate affair impossible.
Always the epitome of professionalism, she forced a smile to mask the depressingly bleak forecast of her personal life. “Right this way.”
Poppy led the duo down the hall, past a gurney parked like an abandoned space shuttle and a nurse rushing by with meds. She glanced back to check that Tabitha was keeping up, the girl was practically skipping.
“Have you ever had an MRI before?” Poppy asked.
“Yup. For my heart bubbles.” Tabitha hopped from one tile to the next like she was playing hopscotch.
Heart bubbles—that was a new one. Poppy had heard it called ‘waterfall heart,’ ‘leaky heart,’ and ‘choo choo train heart,’ but not ‘heart bubbles.’ Tabitha suffered from a heart murmur. It must be severe if she’d had to have regular MRIs. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be slowing her down.
“Can I wear the headphones again?” Tabitha smiled, showing a missing incisor.
“Absolutely,” Poppy replied. “What music do you want?”
“Encanto,” Tabitha responded without hesitation. “The Bruno song.”
“Just the Bruno song?”
She nodded.
“Sorry,” her father mouthed.
Well, Poppy knew what song would be in her mind for the next week. She pressed her badge to the imaging suite door, and it unlocked with a cheerful thump.
“It looks like a spaceship,” Tabitha said, pointing at the MRI machine as they entered, a white cylindrical tube with a blueglow around its bore, humming softly. “I pretend I’m going to space.”
“You’re right,” Poppy agreed. “It does look like a spaceship.”
The imaging room was cold and washed in that odd, watery light that made everything look and feel otherworldly. Poppy knelt down to Tabitha’s level. “Can I ask you something?”
Tabitha nodded.
“Do you have an astronaut name?”
Her eyes widened slightly as she grinned. “Princess Ninja Flower.”
