None of which abate when my appointment time comes and goes.
Of course, the doctor is running late.
Then again, I suppose babies come on their own timeline.
As I wait, I pull out my planner, start running through my questions.
Before I can get more than a few in, the outside door opens and?—
I suck in a breath as Leo strolls into the clinic.
He looks completely out of place in the quote-unquote traditionally female space—all masculine strength amongst the pink walls and black and white pictures of babies, the magazines with Covergirls and makeup ads and sex advice.
But I barely have a chance to process that before his eyes lock with mine.
Then he’s crossing over to me, sinking down into the empty chair next to mine.
“Hey,” he says casually, as though this is the most obvious place in the world for us to cross paths.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss, the churning in my stomach back with a vengeance.
“Here,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wrapped candy.
“What—?”
He presses it into my palm. “Ginger candy,” he explains, unwrapping it and lifting it up to my mouth when I just stare at him. He touches it to my lips. “It’s supposed to help with the nausea.”
“I—”
He plunks it into my mouth before I can finish forming my protest. “I’m here because…” His voice gentles. “I’m here because I told you I’d be here.”
My heart spasms.
My head says, And how long will that last?
I take a breath as the candy begins to melt on my tongue and I don’t know if it’s Leo distracting me or if the ginger sweet is actually helping, but my nausea begins to ease. “No,” I say, trying to focus on the infuriating and confusing man currently taking up residence beside me, “you’re here because Luna can’t help herself and butted in.”
“Actually, she didn’t.”
I lift my brows. “She didn’t tell you when and where my appointment was—” I shake my head. “Is—” Another shake. “Or rather, is going to be because the doctor is behind?”
He studies me like I’m an intricate puzzle he’s desperate to solve.
I steel my heart against the way it wants to go soft, wants to roll over and expose its vulnerable underbelly.
That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.
“I’m just glad I didn’t miss it,” he murmurs.
And there my heart goes again.
I scowl at him.
“And no,” he says, ignoring my glower. “Luna didn’t tell me—or not directly, anyway. She and the girls were worried about you. I just happened…to overhear the details.”
“That’s convenient,” I mutter.
“Okay, so maybe it’s more like I purposely eavesdropped, but I meant what I told you, Harp. You don’t have to do this alone.”
