“Okay, I’ll just wait,” I say impatiently and push the stroller over to an empty seat.
Gabe walks in and Axl squirms in his stroller, his chubby little arms desperately reaching for him. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”
“Hey, champ.” Gabe kneels before our son and unfastens his safety harness, picking him up. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, something we do every time we see one another, but it’s never occurred to me until now how strange that is, that we can’t stop touching long after we stopped being athing. “Sorry I’m late. I had a client who wouldn’t leave.”
“Oh, it’s okay. We just got here.”
Gabe frowns. “Really?”
“Yeah, I um ... stopped for a coffee.”And a cute guy in a suit who’s so far out of my league. I shrug.
“Not Daddy, not Daddy,” Axl complains, vigorously shaking his sippy cup.
My eyes widen. Gabe arches a brow and grabs Axl’s hand. “What do you mean ‘not Daddy’? That juice has gone to your head, kid.”
“Yeah, it might be time for no more juice. Ever,” I agree and sit down. My kid may not be able to communicate all that well yet, but yeesh! Talk about cock blocking. He’s barely two, and already, he’s trying to get me in trouble with his dad. “Anyway, the doctor’s running late. Oh, and apparently our pediatrician has taken long service leave. Can you believe that?”
Gabe smiles like I’m being insane again. So I frown and take Axl from his arms as he sits beside me.
“Nom, nom, nom,” Axl chants.
I heave a sigh, because I’m sure this kid just ate ten minutes ago. “Hey, can you pass his raisins? They’re in my bag.”
Gabe riffles through the diaper bag and hands Axl the box of raisins. Then he pulls out a single white business card and says, “Who’s Harrison?”
“Axl Laurier?” a man says from the corridor, and I glance up and lock eyes with the man in question.
“Oh shit,” I mutter.
“Lo?” Gabe demands.
Harrison’s smile is wide as I walk toward him with Axl on my hip.
“When you said you were running off to an appointment, I didn’t think it would be with me.”
A humorless laugh bubbles out of me. “I promise I’m not stalking you.”
“Well, thank fuck for that,” Gabe says beside me. I shoot him a pissy look. “Hey, I’m Gabe. Axl’s dad. Who the hell are you?”
“Not Daddy, not Daddy,” Axl says, shaking his head. Raisins go flying and I snatch them out of his hands. He squeals andHot Suit Guy surveys an angry Gabe, a child on the verge of a tantrum, and the waiting room beyond.
“Er ... why don’t we carry on these introductions inside my office.” He turns and steps across the threshold.
Gabe glares at me. “Yeah, why don’t we do that?”
I follow Hot Suit Guy—or Dr. Sokolov, I guess—inside the room. Gabe is like an angry storm cloud at my back, as if electricity is sparking between us and making my hair stand on end. But it’s not the good kind. It’s the kind that leaves you breathless, the kind that reminds you that you’re only a human, confronting an irate Viking god.
Axl and I sit on one of the chairs provided in the brightly colored room. Giraffes and monkeys line the walls, and the lime green jungle theme is making me nauseous.
Gabe stands near the door, practically chuffing and beating his chest like a gorilla. “So, how and where did you two meet?”
“Well, Axl decided to accost Dr. Sokolov at the coffee house.”
“Not Daddy, no Daddy.”
Gabe leans in and lifts Axl from my lap, peppering Axl’s face with kisses. “Daddy’s right here, champ.”
I suddenly feel naked without my child to hide behind in this situation, so I just rest the diaper bag on my lap instead.