Free Fix You by Lauren Gilley Page B

“Let me send it to the club and I’ll get back to you with what they say.”
                  “Thanks, Delta.”
                  “You bet. Oh, and good luck at the doc today.”
                  She disconnected the call with another thank you and started down the tiled hall of the new outpatient building where her obstetrician worked.  All the way to the second set of elevators, and all the way up to the fifth floor, she ran through all the potential critiques of her work. But when she stepped out into the plush, tasteful, air conditioned waiting room of the OB/GYN’s office, she told herself, firmly, that Delta didn’t throw compliments around – just like Jordan didn’t – and she shoved her worry aside and allowed herself a moment to bask in the praise as she signed in and plopped down in a vinyl chair by the window.
                  There were a scattered handful of other patients waiting, all of them at some stage of pregnancy save for the reed-thin redhead two chairs over from her. And she could have been pregnant; who knew? Ellie picked up a wrinkled parenting magazine she had no desire to read and flipped it open anyway, wishing she’d remembered to tuck a book inside her purse. Her girls were hell on her memory; two nights before she’d added cinnamon instead of pepper to their chicken, and bless Jordie, he hadn’t said a word and she’d only realized the mistake when she’d gagged on her own bite. Pregnancy brain Beth had called it, and apparently two babies meant twice as much stupidity.
                  “Missus Walker?” the receptionist called and Ellie glanced up from her magazine. “You signed in with the wrong sheet.” She held up a clipboard to demonstrate.
                  “I’m sorry,” Ellie groaned. “It’s probably a miracle I’m even wearing shoes.”
                  The receptionist laughed. “It’s fine. If I could just get you to fill this out.”
                  Which wouldn’t have been a problem if heaving herself out of her chair hadn’t become so difficult. Seven months along, her baby bump was no longer cute, but a hindrance to her normal range of motion. She felt fat and swollen and unseemly, especially as the skinny redhead’s eyes followed her up to the counter.
                  “Will your husband be joining you today?” the receptionist asked as Ellie printed her name on the correct sign-in sheet. Jordan had come to all of her appointments that he’d been able to and the staff thought his nervous fidgeting was cute. The f-bomb he’d dropped in front of the doctor the day they’d been told it was twins, though, hadn’t been so cute.
                  “No, he couldn’t get away from work.”
                  “Aw, well that’s too bad. Tell Jordan we all said ‘hi.’”
                  “Will do,” she said with a forced grin, thinking the OB staff’s “hi” wasn’t anything he cared about.
                  “They’ll call you back in just a sec,” she was assured, and then went back to her chair and lowered herself into it gracelessly.
                  “Excuse me,” someone asked to her left a moment later, and Ellie turned to see that the redhead had her magazine in her lap and was watching her with a curious half-smile. Curious, but not a friendly smile. “Hi, um, your last name is Walker?”
                  “Yes…” Ellie felt a prickling up the back of her neck.
                  “And your husband’s name is Jordan?”
                  “Yes.”
                  The redhead’s smile stretched, toothy and sparkling, taking up nearly all of her narrow face. She propped an elbow on her knee and dropped her chin in her hand, nothing short of  fascinated. “I know a Jordan Walker,” she said in a sugary sweet voice that