“What are you doing?” Bea hisses behind me, but I ignore her as I march toward the reception desk.
“Our appointment was almost thirty minutes ago, yet we’re still sitting here,” I bark, internally cringing at my own rudeness. It’s not this woman’s fault, but unfortunately for her, she’s in the firing line.
“I’m so sorry, sir. The sonographers are running a little behind today.”
“Five minutes would be a little,” I mutter. “She’s pregnant,” I say, throwing my hand behind me to gesture to the woman who was sitting beside me. “She shouldn’t be sitting on that uncomfortable chair for this long because your staff can’t stick to a schedule.”
The woman pales.“I know, and I’m sorry. But there isn’t?—”
“Leave it,” Bea sneers as she rushes up behind me. “They’re busy. There is nothing we can do about this. Leave the poor woman alone.”
I turn to look at her, and for the first time since meeting her that night, I really see her.
She isn’t wearing any makeup, or at least, if she was, it’s all been rubbed off. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. Her skin is pale, and her hair has been twisted up in some messy kind of knot with strands hanging everywhere. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie, leggings, and Crocs. But all those details pass me by, because the only thing I really register is how beautiful she is.
She’s got freckles littered across her nose and cheeks; her eyes are a sparkling light blue, and under the harsh electric lights, they have a hint of violet in them. Her lips are full, as if she’s spent hours kissing someone, not chewing on them anxiously.
My hand flinches at my side, the need to reach out and pull her into me almost too much to deny.
That’s how we got into this mess in the first place.
Assuming this is my mess, of course.
“Either find some patience and manners, or leave. Just because I invited you here, it doesn’t mean you need to be.” Her eyes narrow in challenge, and the air crackles between us.
This is the moment where I could walk out and not have to go through what comes next. But when my feet move, they don’t take me toward the exit.
They lead me back to the empty chair I vacated not so long ago.
“Feel better now?” Bea’s friend snarks. “Have a habit of making women cry?”
“She isn’t crying,” I mutter as Bea wanders back over.
“Then maybe you should look again.”
I do, and I discover that she’s right. The receptionist is wiping her eyes.
Goddamn it. Is there anything I don’t screw up?
“I just…you deserve better care than sitting around like this.”
“I don’t disagree, but we’re not all famous hockey players who probably have doctors on speed dial,” Bea points out before dropping into the chair.
“I’m going to get a coffee. Would you like anything?” the friend asks, hopping to her feet.
“A glass of water would be great,” Bea says, her voice soft once again.
Her friend starts walking off as if I’m not sitting here.
“I’ll take a coffee,” I call.
She freezes, then glances back over her shoulder. Her eyes are narrowed, and I know exactly what she’s going to say before the words leave her lips.
“I wasn’t asking you,” she states before marching from the room.
“Well, isn’t she a delight,” I mutter under my breath.
Bea snorts a laugh beside me.
