I shake my head at him. “You can stream anything now, Grandpa.”
“Keep it up, I’m gonna go steal that pregnant woman from her husband,” he tells me, grabbing a pen out of a cup and jotting my name down on a sign-in sheet.
“I don’t think you’d have to work very hard at it,” I tell him.
“I love not working hard.”
I roll my eyes. “I bet you do.”
The frosted glass window obscuring the receptionist slides open and a woman with curly blonde hair and glasses addresses us without looking away from her computer screen. “Name?”
I open my mouth to give mine, but Rafe is already speaking. “Rafe Morelli. We’re here to see Dr. Clark.”
Her fingers halt their mad dash across the keys and she glances up. Smiling like suddenly greeting her patients is her passion, she says, “Of course, Mr. Morelli. Go ahead and come right back.” She pushes back, standing. “I’ll grab the door for you.”
If she seemed annoyed by her job when the window first slid open, now she dotes on me like a loving mother. “You must be Laurel. How are you feeling today, honey? Have you been experiencing any morning sickness?”
I glance back over my shoulder at the pregnant woman and see her spying, but she turns back around when I catch her. I wonder how long she’s been waiting? Doesn’t seem fair that I get ushered right in.
“No morning sickness,” I tell the lady, shaking my head.
“Oh, good.”
I glance over at Rafe, a little uncertain, but the special treatment doesn’t throw him at all. I guess he’s probably used to it.
The woman leads me into a tiny room with a scale, two chairs, and a counter with a sink. Rafe and Sin both remain in the wide doorway, each holding up one side like the wall might fall down otherwise.
The receptionist tells me to take a seat in the chair and the nurse will be right in, apologizing for the size of the room. It wouldn’t be so crowded if Rafe and Sin didn’t each take up so much damn space. Not even just physically, but the bulk of their presences. It’s like having three other people squeezed in this tiny room with me.
The nurse comes in next, not even blinking that there are two space-hogging men standing here guarding me. She runs down a checklist, asking questions, checking my blood pressure. Then she weighs me and marks that down, too.
“All right, if you guys will follow me to the exam room.”
Now I expect Sin to fall back. No one is going to murder me in the exam room, right? The nurse has incredible discretion, because she doesn’t so much as blink again when both men walk into the room with me.
I have less chill. I am wide-eyed and completely fucking confounded that Rafe is allowing this. Especially after the nurse tells me to undress and slip on this flimsy paper gown and the doctor will be right in to see me.
She leaves the room, shutting the door behind me. I hold the paper gown and stare at Rafe, then glance at Sin, then back at Rafe.
“Yes?” Rafe asks, expectantly.
“I have to undress.”
“I heard,” he says.
I nod pointedly, looking at the door. “You guys want to step outside?”
Rafe smiles calmly. “We’ve both seen you naked.”
Face flushing, I say, “That’s not the point. This is different. This is… weird.”
Dismissing my concern, Rafe says, “It’s fine. Go ahead, unless you’d also like to strip in front of Dr. Clark.”
“You’re a psycho,” I mutter, stepping out of my shoes. Clutching the paper gown to my chest, I try to figure out how to undress without either of them seeing me. This is unbelievably awkward. It’s worse because they’ve both seen me naked. My heart thrums enthusiastically in my chest as I awkwardly try to push down my pants. I didn’t have anything of my own to wear, so I put on the smallest pair of black leather maternity leggings Mia sent with me—she sent two sizes, one for now, one for later—and on reflection, leather leggings were not a good choice. They would be annoying to get out of with two hands, but one and grasping a paper gown against me, trying to hide my nakedness from the two last men who have played with my body? Kill me now.
Sin sighs when he sees me struggling to keep myself hidden. He storms over, grabs the paper gown out of my hand, and wordlessly holds it up in front of me like a screen. I steal a wary glance at him, but he’s not looking at me. He’s in guard mode, completely impassive. That makes me more comfortable though, so before I lose my chance, I make quick work of stripping.
“Thank you,” I murmur, as I take the gown and slip it on.