Page 111 of Bae

Rimmel stood, keeping her back straight. “Oh, and just for transparency, I’m pretty sure that receptionist was also the one who called the press the day I miscarried my daughter. She’s the reason they were outside the hospital.”

“She wasn’t at the hospital.” Dr. Crawford argued.

“No. But she knew I was because I called your office on the way to the hospital. I spoke to her.”

Realization dawned in the doctor’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“I know,” Rimmel said, kindly.

I wasn’t feeling too kind. I didn’t know how the hell my wife had so much compassion for other people.

“Please look over the papers,” she added.

Dr. Crawford nodded.

Rimmel went to the door. After giving the doc another long, lingering stare, I pushed out of the seat and joined my wife at the door.

As soon as we stepped into the hall and the door snapped shut behind me, Rimmel looked up. “I can’t come here anymore.” Her quiet voice was forlorn.

It just pissed me off even more.

I brushed a hand down the back of her head. “I know, baby.”

I’d known that since she told me she suspected the receptionist. I’d never let my wife be seen at an office that put her life in danger.Never.

But Rim had to come to that realization on her own. I couldn’t order her. It would have caused a fight. I had to let her see what I already knew. Plus, I really did want those papers signed. Not only would that NDA cover any contact Rim or I had with the office from here on out, but it covered all the care Rimmel got here in the past.

I figured with two mil up for grabs, I’d make sure none of my wife’s records were “accidentally” leaked to the media.

There was some movement in a nearby door, and I glanced around. Two nurses were peeking at me from around the nurses’ station.

Back in the day, the college days, I would have flashed them my smile, laid on the charm.

Today, I ignored them.

Snooty bitches.

I hated snooty bitches.

“C’mon, Smalls.” I draped an arm across Rimmel’s shoulders and guided her to the exit. “Let’s go get some ice cream, then buy out Pet Warehouse and take treats to all your lovable mutts at the shelter.”

She gasped. “Really!”

“Duh.” I rolled my eyes.

She loved buying stuff for those animals. Even something as simple as rawhide bones just made her so happy. I admit I liked it, too. Dogs were pretty simple creatures, and even just a snack and a pat on the head made their day. Their joy was infectious.

She started rambling animatedly about one of the dogs and how she had the perfect treat in mind for him. I listened to her prattle on, warmth filling my chest.

When she tripped over the stupid boots, I swept her up and carried her the rest of the way to the car.

“Maybe I should have brought my regular shoes,” she told me, staring down at her stiletto-strapped feet.

“Already ahead of you, Smalls. They’re in the backseat.”

She laughed. “You know me so well.”

---