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Marti shrugged. “I don’t know. It felt more official.”
“Right. But won’t Dr. Bradford and”—she squinted at Marti’s nametag—"Dr. Maddox come looking for their nametags? I mean, wouldn’t it have been easier to pretend to be med students?”
Marti glanced over at her like she was stupid. “They’re paper and written in permanent marker. I’m sure they can make new ones for them.” She shrugged. “They’ll just think they forgot a couple of names.”
“Okay, last question. What exactly are you here to ask him that can’t wait until later?” Mel asked as she paused at a table and snatched up a pamphlet on podiatry and stared at it with interest.
“I need to ask him whether he has a kid. And it can’t wait because I have an article due tonight, so it’s now or never.”
Mel halted, the pamphlet in her hands forgotten. “Hold up.” She grabbed Marti’s arm and yanked her to the side, allowing a few eager-eyed students to pass. “Logan has children? With who?”
“I don’t think it’s plural, but I don’t know. I did some snooping and found some photos of him and a fiancé who was very obviously pregnant.”
“Wow.” Mel frowned. “Don’t you think he would have mentioned that though, if he had a kid?”
“You would think, but I’m not taking any chances. It’s one thing to fake a relationship with him, but if he has a kid, it feels . . . different somehow. I at least need to know.”
“Yeah, makes sense. The last thing you want to do is have some reporter ask you whether you’ve met his children and be blindsided. You need to know what you’re getting yourself into. For all you know, there’s some crazy baby-mama, sticking pins in a voodoo doll with your name on it. Crazy exes are the worst.”
“Exactly.” Marti pointed at her, feeling slightly vindicated. “And if he does have a kid, it’s pertinent to make sure he knows what he’s getting into with this. I already warned him, but I’m not sure he gets it. I don’t want to be the reason an innocent kid gets dragged into the public eye. And if he has skeletons in his closet, they’ll come out. It’s inevitable. They’ll air all his dirty laundry.”
“Totally. You need to know his background if you’re to continue.”
Marti frowned. The thought of muddying Logan’s name was one thing, but a child was a total game-changer. If anyone knew about the lasting effects one negative event during childhood could have on your life, it was her.
Her father leaving them was bad enough. Throw a public spotlight on it, and she wasn’t sure she could have coped with it.
Marti turned the corner into a new row of stalls and eyed a psychiatry booth to her right, then scanned the remaining rows. Halfway down, she caught a glimpse of broad shoulders that led to a tapered waist and paused. The man half-turned as he spoke to a young man with a serious expression. The familiarity of the sharp jaw and dark hair tugged at something deep in her chest as his voice trickled out to her, only slightly muted by the surrounding noise.
Beside her Mel wandered lazily, unaware something had stolen her attention. “Do you think there’s free food here somewhere? I’m starving.” Her eye caught on the booth beside her. “Ooh, free cookies and coffee. I’ll be back.”
“Wait . . .” Marti called after her, but Mel was already gone, entering the pediatric booth on a mission.
Rolling her eyes, Marti stared at Logan a moment longer, bracing herself for a confrontation. Asking him about the baby thing would be awkward. It would require her to admit she had trolled him on Facebook. It might imply she cared, which she certainly did not. It was merely her due diligence as a writer to look into his past.
When Logan started to turn in her direction, she squared her shoulders, preparing to confront him directly when a hand came down over her arm. “There you are,” a harried voice said beside her.
Startled, Marti turned to see a silver-haired woman wearing a pair of blue scrubs. A look of relief ghosted her expression, and before Marti knew what she was doing, she tugged on her arm and steered her toward the row of tables in the back. “I’ve been waiting for you. You’re late, you know. The clinic said you’d be here a half-hour ago to assist.”
“What? I’m not—”
“It’s fine.” She flapped her hand in the air as they walked. “I’m just glad you?
??re here now. We’re swamped.”
“But I—”
“Look at all these people.” The woman stopped and motioned around what appeared to be a makeshift waiting room. “We’ve got to get the next wave of people ready to go, so we can get them in and out. Do you need anything else Dr. Maddox or are you all set?”
Dr. Maddox. The name clanged in her head, a hollow gong.
Her nametag. Oh, no . . .
Marti shook her head frantically. “There’s been a mistake.”
“I know it’s sort of beyond you. Heaven knows doctors don’t do this kind of thing post med-school, but we’re grateful you signed up to help.”
Marti’s heart started to pound. “But I didn’t sign up.”
