Page 11 of Baby I'm Yours

“No, it’s not awful,” she says. “And you’re right about being closer to your friends. They’ll be there for you no matter?—”

Her words are drowned out by a firm knock at the door.

Thebackdoor, the one that leads to a small deck and the rickety stairs Hunter used to slip away after our three days of hedonistic bliss…

“Hold that thought, someone’s at the back door no one uses,” I tell Grace, my pulse picking up.

Is it him? Has Hunter come to plead his case again, despite assuring me that he wanted to give me time to think?

I confess I wouldn’thatethat, especially if he’s here to remind me how much fun we’d have baby-making…

“Oh?” Grace makes a worried noise. “Well, be careful. We had a killer on the loose for a while who would sneak into homes through a back door while people were away. Then, he would lay in wait and murder them when they went to bed.”

“No one murders people in Sea Breeze,” I say, but her words convince me to grab the baseball bat I keep by my shoe pile—just in case.

It was a gift from Mom after I moved into this apartment alone at just eighteen years old, determined to be an entrepreneur like her. Sea Breeze is safe, she always said, but that doesn’t mean a woman shouldn’t be prepared.

“Our biggest crime wave involved a group of kids who kept nailing eggplants to the wooden pirate’s crotch outside the seafood buffet,” I continue, making my way toward the door.

Grace giggles. “Funny. But still, be careful. I’ll stay on the phone until I know you’re safe.”

“Thanks.” I peek through the peephole, nearly dropping my phone as I identify my unexpected visitor. “What the heck?” I mutter.

“What? What is it?” Grace asks. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I murmur, still stumped as to what on earth my eye doctor is doing on my back stoop. “It’s Dr. Childers, my optometrist.”

“What? They make house calls there?”

“No, never. Not that I know of, anyway,” I say, peeking through the peephole again. “And especially not on Sundays. But she does have a bag with her and…” I trail off as my brain connects the dots. “Oh my God, Hunter must have sent her.”

“What? Why would you think that?”

“I told him last night that I hadn’t had an eye exam in years,” I murmur. “He must have decided to…fix that.”

“Oh, wow,” Grace says, sounding as fluttery as I feel. “How romantic. Bossy, but romantic.”

“No, it’s not, he probably just wants to make sure I don’t fall down a flight of stairs or something before I can have his baby,” I hiss, before calling in a louder voice as the doctor knocks again, “Just a second Dr. Childers, be right there.” To Grace, I whisper, “Have to go. Text you later.”

“All right, but yes, text me! I have to know what you decide,” Grace says. “And I’m here to talk anytime, love. Just pick up the phone.”

I thank her before ending the call and opening the door, revealing the petite, middle-aged woman I haven’t seen in her office for quite some time. But Dr. Childers comes in for scones almost every Friday, making itslightlyless strange that she’s appeared on my back stoop. “Hey, doc. How’s it going?”

“Hey, Elaina,” she says, her cheeks a little flushed. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I was told you’d be home and available for an exam.” She lifts her bag. “I just started offering in-home visits for my elderly patients who can’t get into the office as easily as they used to, so it seemed like kismet when your friend called this morning.”

“He’s not my friend, doc,” I say, not wanting to bullshit anyone I don’t absolutely have to bullshit.

She arches a wry brow. “I didn’t think he was, dear, but he’s clearly smitten. You don’t want to know how much he paid me to make a house call on a Sunday evening. And he said he’d pay whether you agreed to the exam or not, so…” She shrugs. “If this isn’t a good time, feel free to send me away, but I would love to get a look at those eyes. I know you’re young and healthy, but you’re past due for an exam. Might as well take advantage of the nice, bossy man’s generosity.”

“Sure. Come on in,” I open the door, stepping back to let her in. “Heisbossy, and I’m not sure how nice he really is, but you’re right. No sense in looking a gift horse in the mouth, and I was having trouble reading today, even with my cheaters.”

“Then, I’m glad I’m here,” Dr. Childers says, bending to pet Captain Crunchypants as he ambles over to welcome our guest.

“What a handsome fellow,” she coos. “I’ve been thinking of adopting a cat lately. Things are too quiet around my house since my youngest went to college.”

“Oh woman, don’t say that,” I tease as we move toward my large table by the back windows, where she can set up her things. “You know I have an embarrassment of adoptable cat riches downstairs. Just say the word and we can put an official meeting on the books.”

“I may do that,” she says, grinning. “Once I convince my husband that cats are way more fun than the parrot he wants to buy.”

---