Page 47 of Frog

As we sat there, I could not help but notice that the nurses’ station was beginning to draw a crowd. There were a lot of people in scrubs, a lot of white coats, and even one guy in a suit.

“Uncle Cy!” Pip shrieked and leaped off the seat beside me, streaking around the chairs and charging across the floor to him.

Cy bent and caught the little boy easily, kissing him and patting his back as chubby little arms were wrapped around his neck.

I got up, Tristan and Micah trailing after me, and met him halfway.

“Sorry it took me so long to get down here.” He smiled at me, his eyes warm and soft.

“No, we know you’re busy,” I assured him, holding up his worn leather bag. “I like this.”

“What’s that?” He smiled at me, reaching for and fiddling with the collar of my dress shirt under the sweater I was wearing.

“This bag. It’s nice. It reminds me of a briefcase my grandfather had when I was a little boy.”

“Well, there you go. They said it was vintage when I bought it.”

I smiled at him.

He took a breath and stepped closer to me, his hand sliding around the back of my neck. “So, I have a fundraiser to go to tonight that I completely blanked on. You want to meet me here and go with me?”

“You didn’t forget. You told me you had an event to go to while I was here.”

“No, that’s the annual Christmas party, and there are a few others as well, but this one never even made it into my calendar.”

“I see.”

“So?”

I squinted at him.

“I want you to go with me.”

“Oh hell no, Doc. You can go stag, and I’ll wait up for ya.”

“I would prefer if you came with me.”

I grinned evilly. “Not if ya paid me.”

“Please, Web.”

The eyebrow waggle I gave him made him curse under his breath.

His eyes narrowed, and I snickered. “You’re just—”

“Get home soon as you can. Me and the boys are makin’ stroganoff for dinner for their mama and we thought for you as well.”

“Oh, that sounds so good. Save me some, all right?”

“We’ll try.” I smiled at him. “Now put that boy down; we gotta go.”

“No, stay and have lunch with me.”

I laughed at him. “We ain’t eatin’ no hospital food. We’re goin’ to the wharf to get us some clam chowder in sourdough bread bowls before Micah’s appointment with his shrink.”

He made a face. “Kids don’t eat clam chowder.”

“You wanna bet?”