Anne Winston - The Baby Consultant

So enough about what it would be like to sleep with Frannie every night. Even the idea of falling asleep with her snuggled close against him was appealing.

Forget it. Wanting to be close was what got you in trouble the last time, dope. Why would you want to set yourself up to get shot down again?

The answer was simple: he wouldn’t.

With prescription in hand, he jogged back across the street and into the emergency department. Seeing him, the girl at the desk smiled warmly and stood. “I think they’re ready to go.” She disappeared, and in a few minutes Frannie came out through the swinging doors from the E.R.’s interior, carrying Alexa.

He held up the bag to show Frannie he’d gotten the medicine, suddenly feeling incredibly weary. Alexa wasn’t screaming anymore, but the sound of her pained cry would haunt him for a long time. Why in the world hadn’t he realized she was hurting? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to be a parent, even a half-decent one. Which, no doubt, was what Frannie would say.

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