He stood up the moment I walked out, his calm, low, reassuring tone carrying easily across the quiet room.
“There she is,” Luke said, walking toward me with his hand outstretched. “I managed to slip away from the site early to surprise you.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer, turning instead toward the high glass partition where the receptionist sat.
“We’ll need the itemized statement for today’s visit,” Luke said, his voice dropping to a warm, polite murmur.
I stood by the coat rack, my fingers tucked deep into the pockets of my cardigan.
The receptionist tapped her keyboard, her eyes scanning the screen before she looked up. “The copay is forty dollars, Mr. Vance.”
“We’ll have to bill that to the home address,” Luke said, his hand resting flat on the wooden counter. “My wife has been a bit confused about our current insurance coverage lately.”
The receptionist looked at me, then back at Luke, her expression softening into a professional nod.
