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The small baby that she’d just walked out of the hospital with, unsure what or how she was going to make ends meet or how she was going to pay for formula for her after being told she couldn’t breastfeed, cooed.
It was so sweet.
“Thank you, thank you,” she cried through her tears.
I patted her hand and said, “You have another fifteen minutes at least until the bus runs. Have a seat at the table right there before you fall.”
She gave me a relieved look, then did just that.
“Take care of yourself, honey,” I murmured, then made my way back inside to my drinks that were almost ready.
After catching them all up in two hands, I headed back to the ER, handing out cups to nurses as I went.
I’d just sat down to chart and savor my first sip of coffee when I was interrupted.
“Hey, Ellodie. There’s a man in the hallway who’s asking for you,” Jasmine called out.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, hoping it wasn’t Frederick, who’d decided to pull out all the stops to win me back.
It’d been three days since we’d broken up, and in those three days, he’d sent flowers to me at work twice, ordered me lunch, and had come by twice as well.
Getting up, I made my way around the corner and out into the hallway to find…
“Hot Cop,” I murmured so quietly that I prayed he didn’t hear.
“Ms. Solaire?”
I opened my mouth to say yes, but he nodded. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Quaid Carter. An officer with Dallas Police Department.”
I already knew his name. I’d gotten on social media to find out exactly that—yes, I’d had to up the man’s name.
And there he was, standing in the middle of the hospital hallway, staring at me with those green eyes of his. Jesus, they were even more beautiful in the harsh lighting of the hospital hallway.
“Yes,” I affirmed.
He offered his hand. “I have a few questions to ask you.”
I automatically held my hand out to him, unable to stop myself even if I’d tried.
The electric zing that rolled through me as our palms touched was downright terrifying.
I blinked. “Oh. What can I help you with, Officer?”
He gestured toward a vacant room, and closed the door behind us.
I started to get nervous, thinking back to that money I’d stolen earlier.
Or the money I’d stolen last week.
Or the watch.
Or the…
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything is… fine?” he hedged. “I’m here to ask you about a date you had a few months or so ago. His name was Benedikt Wells.”
I curled my lip up at the name.
