Page 115 of This Woman Forever

“Dr. Pierce?” The receptionist sounds confused. “I’m afraid we don’t have a Dr. Pierce here.”

“But it says online that he works at this practice. Or worked.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’ve only been here for eighteen months, so perhaps it was before me.”

“Perhaps,” I muse. “Could you ask someone who’s been there longer?”

“Sure. I’ll have the practice manager call you back.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay then, goodbye.”

“You’ve not taken my name or number.”

“Your number is on my screen. Ends in 674?”

“That’s it.”

“And your name?”

I don’t want to give it in case it rings any bells with anyone. Like whom? I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances. I can’t imagine Alan will want to hear from me. So I scratch around in my brain for a name. Any name. Fuck. “Norman,” I blurt. “Norman Partridge.” What the fuck?

“Got it.” She hangs up, and I have absolutely no faith that anyone will call me back. “Norman fucking Partridge?” I question as Bianca approaches. I hand over the cash as promised.

“I just took it over,” she says. “She looked surprised.”

“You mean annoyed?” I reply over a laugh.

“Yes, and that. Are you smothering her?”

“Apparently,” I mutter, leaving the cafe. “Thanks, Bianca.”

“Anytime, Mr. Ward.”

I bet. I give Ava’s office front a wide berth—or as wide as I can while walking on the same street—and head to the florist.

The girl looks up when I push my way in, and then gets to work quickly. “When am I delivering?” she asks.

“You’re not.”

She blinks, surprised. “I’m not?”

“I’m delivering them myself today.” I hand over some cash, my chest puffing out. “It’s a special occasion.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“We’re expecting.”

“Expecting what?”

My shoulders drop. “A ba?—”

“I’m playing with you, Mr. Ward.”

“Oh. Okay.” I grimace, giving her grabby hands. “Very funny. Give me the flowers.”

She hands them over on a smirk, and I scowl lightly. “Congratulations, Mr. Ward. And have a good day.”

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