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Ali looks horrified at the implication, and fuck if it doesn’t hit me from both sides. First, it hurts that Lana isn’t here to comfort her sick child, and second, fuck, is being mistaken for my spouse so damn nauseating?
“She’s not my wife,” I snap, resituating Aria so I can grab the clipboard from the woman.
“My mistake,” the desk clerk says, her eyes darting back to Ali before dipping in my direction again as she bites the corner of her bottom lip.
Yeah right, lady.
I walk away, sitting in one of the chairs along the far wall, away from the three other kids in the room that are playing with a pile of massive building blocks. I may be pissed and worried, but I take heed of what Ali said. I don’t want another kid suffering with pink eye if that’s what my little girl has.
“I can hold her while you do that,” Ali says, standing directly in front of me.
Of course my first instinct is to snap at her, but it’s not her fault that the woman made a mistake in identification. Hell, I’m wearing a wedding ring. Most people would come to the same conclusion.
I take a deep breath as I look up at her, and I hate that she’s anticipating my initial reaction. It only proves that I’m exactly who this woman thinks I am.
“That would be great,” I say instead, grateful for the tiny smile she gives me before taking the baby from my arms.
She doesn’t sit directly beside me, choosing a seat one chair over. Aria is still sleeping, but that doesn’t prevent Ali from rocking back and forth gently, a quiet song whispering from her lips.
I try to concentrate on the paperwork in front of me but I get stumped right after her full name and birthday. I want to argue that there’s no reason for the doctor’s office to have her social security number, because that would be easier than confessing I don’t have it. I don’t have her card. Lana had it—literally had it in her purse that day. I have no idea where those things are now.
I pull my phone from my pocket, shooting off a text to Max. He’s one of the guys responsible for IT shit for Cerberus, and with his record keeping, I’m hoping he has most of her information accessible.
Me: At doctor with Aria.
I send that text, starting on the next one to request the info I need when he texts back.
Max: Ask the front desk for copies. I submitted all forms online for you.
This news makes me so happy, I could cry.
Me: Thanks, man.
Max: You’re welcome, brother. Hope she gets well soon.
I stand and cross the room, handing the mostly blank paperwork back to the front desk clerk.
“My forms have been submitted online,” I tell her. “May I have copies of those, please?”
She gives me a quick smile. “Sure thing, handsome.”
The pet name annoys me, whereas in the past, it never did. Before Lana died, women would flirt all the time, and it would’ve bothered me if it bothered her, but it didn’t. She knew I was hers in every way. Maybe it bothers me so much now because I can physically do something about it. I could ask this woman out on a date if I wanted to. Maybe it’s because I don’t know how Ali would feel about her flirting with me, which is ridiculous, because there’s nothing going on with Ali. From the way she reacted at being called my wife, there never will be.
“Here you are,” she says as she hands me a stack of paperwork. “I’ll call you back when the doctor is ready for you.”
I take the paperwork, nodding in thanks, and return to my seat. I don’t ask Ali for Aria back. I just sit quietly and watch as she rocks my little girl.
I don’t really have the right to be agitated as we sit and wait. The office could’ve easily told us they didn’t have time to see her instead of promising to fit us in. I’ve run out of things to look at. My eyes keep going back to Ali, who is now walking around in tiny circles as she comforts Aria, who woke up and returned to being fussy almost immediately after.
“Aria?” a woman asks from an open doorway on the other side of the room.
I stand, resisting the urge to press my palm to Ali’s back as she walks just ahead of me.
The nurse ushers us into a room, and I stand close when Ali leans over to place Aria on the paper-covered exam table. At first, she’s calm, looking up at the little fish hanging from the ceiling of the ocean themed room, but the second Ali starts to walk away, my little girl begins to scream.
