It’s at this point that Liam announces he has to pee, and I curse inwardly. I really don’t want to leave Claire to take Liam to the washroom. I guess the nurse could stay with her, but I’m afraid Luke will show up as soon as I step away. And if he does, he might decide to leave and come back later, and I really don’t want that. It already feels like we’ve been in the ER forever.
“Can you hold it, honey?” I ask Liam hopefully.
“No, Mommy,” he says earnestly. “You told me that when I need to make a pee I should go to the toilet right away.”
“You’re right, Liam. The thing is, we’re waiting for the doctor to come, and I don’t want to leave in case he shows up.”
“But we’ve seen the doctor,” Liam argues.
“That was the ER doctor,” I explain. The ER doctor was really good with both Claire and Liam, and even let Liam play with his stethoscope. “We’re waiting for Dr. Carlton.”
Liam’s forehead crinkles as he thinks about this. “So I can’t go pee until he gets here?”
I sigh. Of course, I haven’t brought a change of clothes for Liam, or for Claire either. If Liam has an accident, I don’t have anything clean to put him in. I ponder this problem for a minute and spot a couple cardboard basins on the ledge by the sink. I’m not sure if they’re commodes or vomit basins, but I bet Liam could pee in one. The curtain across the cubicle gives us some privacy, so if we’re lucky, no one will ever know.
“I’d like to stay here and wait for Dr. Carlton, Liam.” I grab a basin from the shelf and set it on the floor. “But look, you can pee in this basin. It’s like a potty.”
“That’s not a potty, Mommy,” Liam says, giving me a suspicious look.
“You’re right, Liam. But sometimes at the hospital we do things that we wouldn’t do at home.”
Liam looks confused, but he obediently pulls down his pants and underwear. As I’m helping him squat over the basin, I hear the cubicle curtain swish open.
As promised, Kevin’s returned with Dr. Carlton.
Luke’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he takes in thescene. “I’m sorry, I’ll give you a minute,” he says, reaching up to pull the curtain closed.
“We won’t be long,” I call through the curtain, hoping Luke won’t go away. As soon as Liam’s finished, I hustle him back into his pants, empty the cardboard basin in the sink, and dump it in the trash. After I’ve washed both Liam’s hands and mine, I call out the all clear.
And the curtain swishes open again.
The years have been good to Luke. His hazel eyes are the same, but the line of his jaw is sharper, and his loose-fitting scrubs can’t hide the fact that he’s filled out with muscle. He’s wearing his dirty-blond hair a little longer, and it looks good on him. I wonder how it would feel to run my fingers through it.
Basically, he looks like sex in scrubs.
I can’t help but notice his ring finger’s bare, but I’m sure that doesn’t mean anything. He might take his ring off at work because he has to wash his hands all the time. Even if he isn’t married, he must have a fiancée, or at the very least, a girlfriend. There’s no way in hell Luke Carlton isn’t taken.
“Sorry about that,” I say in a rush. “I would have taken Liam to the washroom, but I didn’t want to miss you, so . . .”
“No problem,” Luke says easily. “I’m Dr. Carlton . . .”
His eyes widen as he recognizes me. There’s a beat of silence as he stares, and I feel his hazel gaze sweep down my body.
I’m suddenly very aware that I’m wearing a fraying pair of yoga pants, and the neckline of my tank top falls a little too low across my chest. In my defense, I was wearing a sweatshirt when we arrived at the hospital, but I took it off after Claire threw up on it.
Whenever I fantasized about seeing Luke again, I waswearing my best clothes, but unfortunately, my best clothes stopped fitting about ten pounds ago. While Luke has filled out with muscle, I’ve filled out with the effects of comfort eating my way through a divorce. I cross my arms over my chest, wishing I was wearing something more substantial than a tank top.
Luke pulls himself together quickly. “I’m Dr. Carlton,” he repeats. He holds out his hand for me to shake, as though we’re meeting for the first time.
“Melissa Lawrence,” I reply as I take his hand. It’s the same name I had when we dated; I changed back to my maiden name as soon as my divorce was final.
Our handshake only lasts seconds, but it sends a jolt of awareness down to my toes.
Luke’s only reaction is a flicker of his eyelids. He releases my hand with a nod, then moves to crouch by Claire’s bedside.
“You must be Miss Thompson,” he says, as he would to an adult, and she smiles. “I’m Dr. Carlton. My first name is Luke. Is it okay if I call you Claire?”
She nods shyly.
