Beth carries Cami up to the desk. She’s gotten changed out of Jack’s sweatshirt, and is now wearing a pair of tight blue jeans that hug her hips, and a little pink tank top. She leans over the desk to talk to the receptionist, and a shaft of sunlight spilling through the front window catches in her red hair, lighting up her curls a bright, sunsetty orange. My breath catches in my chest. I can barely look away.
I’ve seen Beth before, in the lobby or the laundromat, but for some reason, she never really caught my attention. She’s so far from my normal type. I usually pick up girls in clubs or bars, but Beth seems far too soft-spoken and sweet for a one-night-stand. She has a wholesome, apple-pie, girl-next-door vibe that makes my mouth water.
As I watch, she flags down the receptionist. “Hi,” she says politely, “we have an appointment for Camilla Ray?”
The woman nods, leaning over the desk to wave at Cami. “Oh, she isadorable. Are you the parents?” She smiles across at me—and then freezes, dead in place. Her cheeks colour.
Shit. Please don’t tell me she recognises me. Not here. Not now. I drop my eyes, pretending to be incredibly interested in the leaflets spread over the desk.
Beth clears her throat. “I’m actually the child’s nanny. I believe a ‘Sebastian Bright’ has already called ahead?”
The woman’s eyes widen, and she nods. “Ah, yes. I remember. He’s made us aware of your situation. What’s your name?”
“Bethany Ellis.”
Her eyes hop across to me again. Her blush deepens. “And yours, sir?”
“Do we have to sign Cami in, or anything?” I ask.
“Oh, um. No.” The receptionist passes a form to me. “Just fill this in, please. I suppose you might not know all the answers, so just do as much as you can.”
“Great.” I force myself to smile. “Do you have a pen?”
“Ah, yes. Let me just see.” She stirs through her pen pot, pulling out a black biro, then shoots me another assessing look. “I’m sorry, but are you Ran—”
“Absolutely not,” I tell her, grabbing the biro and following Beth to the waiting area. We both sit down in a pair of bright green plastic chairs.
Beth pulls Cami onto her lap and reaches for a picture book from the pile on a nearby table. “Wanna read a story?” She asks Cami, who ignores her, staring around the room with huge eyes.Beth isn’t deterred. “This is one of my favourites,” she says, flipping open the book. “The Very Hungry Caterpillar. It’s a classic.” She starts to read it aloud, settling back in her chair. Our arms brush.
I swallow, looking down at the yellow form. It’s double-sided, and there must be at least sixty questions on it. Gripping the biro tightly, I fill in Cami’s name, date of birth, and sex. Then I just stare at the printed words until all the letters blur.
I can’t read most of the questions. The font is tiny and faded. The whole form looks like it’s been typed out on a typewriter that’s running out of ink.
For fuck’s sake.
“Okay?” Beth asks, noticing my pause.
“What do I put here?” I stab the paper at random. She glances over.
“Evidence of developmental or learning disabilities, check yes or no. She’s too young to answer that.” She claps Cami’s hands together. “Aren’t you? You’re still too tiny!”
Cami giggles.
Right. Of course. I check thenobox. Beth looks over my shoulder. “Oh, hon, you spelled her name wrong. It’s onemand twols.” She shuffles in her seat. “Hang on, her birth certificate is in my bag.” Holding Cami with one arm, she hooks the page out of her purse. “Here.”
I nod, my face burning as I make the correction. I spelled her freakingnamewrong. Jesus, Beth must think I’m a total idiot.
A child’s scream suddenly echoes down the hallway, coming from one of the doctor’s offices.
I look up. “What the fu—what was that?” I demand.
Beth is currently enacting the scene where the Very Hungry Caterpillar eats literally fucking everything, and is pretending to nibble on Cami’s pigtail. The cry comes again, loud and scared, and she doesn’t even react.
I sit up, alarm running through me. “Beth.”
“Hm?”
“Why is that kid crying? What the Hell are they doing to it?”