Page 70 of The Refiner

We’re teasing. Astor is far from old. There may be ten plus years between us, but nothing about this man—other than his video game knowledge—is old. “Nah. You don’t need to keep up with the kids. I rather enjoy keeping you a classic.”

He chuckles, as the weight of his chin drops to my head. “You ready to go trick-or-treating?”

Stepping back, I look up at those icy blue eyes that I once thought were cold and detached. “You’re serious? We’re really going to go trick-or-treating?”

“Are you too cool to knock on doors?”

I nearly snort. “No, but you are, Dr. Elite.”

He pushes the pink ballgown into my chest. “I’ll have you know I never miss a Halloween. It’s my favorite time of the year.” Without another word, he turns me around where I face the bathroom door inside his office. “Get dressed. We can’t be late.”

I feel like a real-life princess.

“One day, I’m going to grow as big as you.” I gaze at the little hand clutched in mine. Her name is Hannah, and she’s six and a half years old—her words not mine.

I wasn’t shocked when Astor—who looks dapper in his overalls and plumber’s hat, impersonating the hottest Mario I’ve ever seen—pulled into the Children’s Hospital parking garage.

Apparently, he and other clinicians put on a trick-or-treat parade for the children spending Halloween in the hospital. The ones who are well enough to walk or ride in wagons and wheelchairs go from floor to floor, stopping at offices and nurses’ stations collecting candy and prizes. The children who aren’t well enough to participate in the parade await all the staff (Astor and me included) to come to their rooms with baskets of goodies.

It’s the sweetest, most thoughtful Halloween party I’ve ever been to.

Squeezing Hannah’s hand, I respond, “I think you’re gonna grow much bigger than me, and you know what happens when girls grow tall?”

That sweet little face grows curious. “No, what?”

“They become models.”

“Really?” Her excitement grips my heart and squeezes. “You think I could be a model?”

I touch the tip of her little nose. “Without a doubt.”

Hannah, her mom told me, recently found out she has a rare blood cancer. What was supposed to be just a simple sick visit to the urgent care turned into a month stay at the Children’s Hospital. But apparently, Hannah, dressed in her adorable pumpkin pajamas and knitted hat, has kept her positive attitude. Her mom says that if it weren’t for those little girl giggles and smiles, she would have crumbled when the doctor first broke the news.

It’s funny how children seem to look at adversity and act like it’s simply a bad hair day. They don’t allow it to cripple them the same way adults do. They live every day like it was the day before. They truly are examples of innocence and purity.

“You guys ready to get some candy?”

There’s a little boy on Astor’s shoulders, and he’s wearing his Mario hat.

“Lucas here says he’s going to get more candy than me.” He jostles the boy, making him giggle. “But I told him that I was the best at tricks, so there was no way I wasn’t coming out of this the Candy King.”

Oh, he’s the best at something all right, but it’s not tricks. This man and his hero mode have my womb aching with a primal need I never knew I wanted.

“Don’t worry, Lucas,” I say, finding my composure. “You can stay with me and Hannah if Dr. Potter ends up with a few doors slammed in his face.”

Though, no one would dare turn Astor away.

In fact, this is one time I think Dr. Potter will have no problem beating me. He looks hot and ridiculous dressed as a video game plumber, but he has this boyish smile, and a child on his shoulders.

He’s a single woman’s fantasy.

And he’smine.

I’ve smiled so much my cheeks hurt.

Racing Astor down the hall in wheelchairs with Hannah and Lucas on our laps was better than any night I spent at the bar with Kenny. The kids chanted as Astor and I rolled the wheels as fast as we reasonably could, with sick kids on our laps, until we reached the end of the hallway.

We called it a tie, but I saw Astor slowing down toward the end. Hannah and Lucas didn’t care. All they wanted was the bag of goodies waiting for us at the finish line.

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