“So there’s nothing to be worried about then?”
“Nope. Looks like he’s perfectly healthy, but if you have any concerns, you have my card.”
I grab the diaper bag from Gabe and say, “Yes, thank you.”
He nods and steals a quick glance at my ex-husband—who’s busy occupying Axl with the stuffed gorilla plushie on the shelf—and leans in. “And now I have your number,” he says.
I swallow hard. “Now you do.”
“Just to let you know that I never do this, but I’ll be ringing it,” he glances at Gabe. “That is ... if it’s okay with you?”
“Actually, it’s not.” Gabe glances back and forth between the two of us, and then turns up his palms as his brow furrows in ais-this-guy-fucking-serious expression. “Isn’t that like a conflict of interest?”
“It’s not up to him,” I say before this conversation can go any further. “And I’ll be answering.”
“I look forward to it.”
I give him a quick smile and head to the door before Gabe decides to begin his own version of a rumble in the jungle. We leave the office and Gabe practically stalks toward his car in the lot, my son attached to his hip. I take my son from his arms and put him in the stroller, clipping in his harness.
“You don’t want a ride?”
“Actually, I think we’re going to walk.”
“Lo ...”
“What the hell was that, Gabe?”
“I can’t offer you a ride anymore?”
“The ride isn’t a problem, it’s you. You can’t just clit-block me like that. You can’t look at me like that ... or touch me ... we’re not together.”
“I can’t look at you or touch you now either? This is becoming quite the list of rules, Freckles.”
“You know what I mean.”
He shakes his head and looks out over the lot, a muscle popping in his jaw. “I wasn’t clit-blocking you. I just don’t know if it’s a great idea for you to date our kid’s pediatrician. What happens when it doesn’t work out?”
“If.”
“What?”
“Ifit doesn’t work out.” I glance at Axl fussing in the stroller, twisting his little body to see us over the hood. “Obviously, this is not the place for this conversation, but ... it’s been two years—”
“I know how long it’s been. Trust me, it’s not something I could forget.”
I sigh. “I just mean ... we’re going to date other people eventually, right?”
He scoffs. “Next you’ll be asking for a divorce.”
I open my mouth, hesitate, and then mutter, “Maybe that would be for the best.”
His green eyes narrow with hurt before looking away. “You want a divorce so you can date the doctor? Fine.”
“Gabe—”
“I gotta get back to the studio.” He opens his door, climbs in, and jams the keys in the ignition. Gabe throws the car in reverse and peels out of the lot at breakneck speed.
“Daddy bye, Daddy.”