Page 10 of Dr. Attending

“Absolutely.” He smiles as he follows her. “I do it all of the time.”

I close the front door and thank him for coming over.

My parents typically help with Carter when something comes up with work, but that’s usually scheduled far in advance. They have a packed social calendar, so I didn’t want to bother them with a last-minute request when Parker agreed to grab drinks tonight. Instead, I asked the first person I could think of—Walker.

Even though Walker was a year behind me in residency and usually kept to himself, we always got along professionally. When I came back to work full time in May, he was the only person who was able to tell that I was drowning and in desperate need of a friend. And ever since, that’s what he’s trulybecome—my only true friend.

Hopefully after tonight, I’ll be able to add Parker back to the list, but we’ll see how things go. I’m cautiously optimistic.

“Got any snacks in this mansion? I forgot my clusters,” Morgan calls as we make our way down the hall. We follow the sound of her overzealous voice to the kitchen and find her throwing open several of the black cabinets like she owns the place.

Walker stops beside me and gives her a silent look that would scare the shit out of me if I didn’t know him better. Sure, he might look scary with his sleeve of tattoos and six-six frame, but we’ve all learned that he’s really just a big softie—he has to be in order to put up with her.

“What?” She glances at him and shrugs, completely unphased by his intimidation tactics.

“You’re yelling,” he replies calmly.

Her green eyes widen as her hand shoots over her mouth like she just remembered why they came over. “Oh shit. Sorry.”

Morgan is around a foot shorter than Walker on a good day, but she walks around the ER like she owns the place. If there’s one nurse that I don’t want on my bad side, it’s her. But thatdoesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy poking fun at her a little bit—it’s too easy.

“It’s fine. He’s out cold.” I laugh and place the baby monitor on the quartz island countertop before walking over to the pantry and opening it for her. “Not sure what clusters are, but I’ve got a ton of pint-sized food in here. Perfect for you, actually.”

Morgan ignores my jab and picks up a jar of sweet potato puffs. “Jokes on you because these look delicious.”

She’s not wrong. I’ll sometimes toss a few back when Carter isn’t looking because they’re oddly satisfying.

A few months ago, the pediatrician recommended we start adding solid foods to his diet—things like bananas, purees, that type of thing. It was a struggle at first because the dude loves his bottle, and I had no idea what to buy. I ended up ordering his food from a company that delivers everything to my door.

Right now, Carter is obsessed with these off-brand Cheetos that are supposed to help with his fine motor development. It’s probably some big marketing ploy, but I’m happy to shell out the money if he likes them. Plus, it makes my life a hell of a lot easier.

“I married a toddler,” Walker comments, watching his wife affectionately as she rummages through my kitchen. “Morg—”

She doesn’t hear him because her head is shoved deep inside my cabinet.

“Morg,” he repeats, more sternly this time.

Morgan lets out a dramatic grunt as she stretches to her toes.

“Got it.” She grins triumphantly, landing on her heels and tossing a box at Walker. “Now be a good boy and make me some dino oatmeal.”

His dark eyes flicker in warning as they narrow on her. “Want to try that again?”

“Hmmm,” she hums, holding his gaze. “I don’t think so. Good boys make their wives food. And you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

He steps forward, his tone lowering. “One more time, little devil. I dare you.”

“Awww,” she coos, her eyes shining with delight. “My Walkie-boo-boo is being bad. Sounds like he needs to be sent to time out.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Morgan winks at me and sprints around the island to put distance between the two of them. She leans forward and places her elbows on the counter, dropping her chin into her hands triumphantly.

I sigh and exchange a glance with Walker. He clenches his jaw silently, but seems to share the same sentiment—his wife is exhausting.

“So, like, what happens if he wakes up?” Morgan asks, staring at the baby monitor curiously.

“Let him try and soothe himself back to sleep for a while. If that doesn’t work, offer him his pacifier.”

Morgan blinks like she doesn’t understand. “We don’t need to give him a bottle, or something? Wait, do they still drink bottles at this age? Does he have teeth yet?”

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