“That’s right, you didn’t ... yet.”
Another giggle bubbles out of me and I have no idea who this person is who’s gone years without getting laid and has suddenly turned into the entire cast of simpering women onBridgeton. “You really want my number?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
Kinda, yeah.
What is wrong with this guy? I mean, I spend my days covered in drool, food, puke, or poop, and he wants to go out? Though, to his credit, it’s not like he knows I spend my dayscovered in bodily fluids because I’m a lying whore who told him I wasn’t a mother.
“Maybe?”
His brows arch.
“I ... er ... I recently just got out of a long-term relationship.”
“How recently?”
“Two years ago?”
His smile widens and goddamn it, what is it with guys and their perfect freaking smiles that disarm a woman instantly and practically make her hand over her panties? Is there a special class for that in college?
I shrug. “It was a rough breakup.”
“Okay. I tell you what,” he says, pulling a sleek leather card holder from his jacket pocket. “I’m going to give you my card, and if you decide you’re finally ready to move on, you call me.”
“Thanks ...” I grab the card and glance at it because he didn’t give me his name. “Harrison Not Daddy.”
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” Axl chants, kicking his little legs as if I were a racehorse ready to speed him to the man in question.
“Call the number on that card and I just might be.”
I blush from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair. Axl screams his impatience and even though I know I need to go, I don’t want to, so I hand him the card—which of, course, he puts straight in his mouth.
“Axl, no.”
“No Daddy. No dotar.”
“Doctor, yes.” I smile at Suit Guy. “I really do have to go, but thank you.”
“I look forward to your call, Lo,” he says with a salacious smile that makes my cheeks heat.
I grab the stroller and my purse and high tail it out of there before I lose my marbles any further. I exit the café and stand onthe street, dumbfounded.I can’t date this man. I just lied about Axl not being mine. I shake my head, crumple up his card and toss it in my purse. It was a nice thirty second dream ... while it lasted.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Lo
Irace through the doors of the pediatrician’s office, five minutes late, pushing the stroller with its busted wheel like a maniac. I lean against the counter, a sweaty mess on account of practically running here, and say to the overly cheerful receptionist, “Hi. Harlow Laurier. Axl has an appointment. I’m so sorry we’re late.”
“Oh, I tried to call you earlier. Dr. Richards is on leave right now.”
“What?”
“Yes, she’s taken long service leave.”
“Seriously? Who are we supposed to see then?”
“Dr. Sokolov is taking over all of her appointments. He’s just out to lunch but he’ll be in soon.”