Lizzie spoke with greater confidence than she felt. John had left her at the front door of the care facility, but only after she’d shoved him back into their cab. She could do this. And if she couldn’t, she was an idiot for insisting John leave her at the door. The nurse typed in the computer and asked her, “Your name?” Lizzie paused a second—Harrington wouldn’t dare. “Lizzie Smith.” The nurse didn’t even look twice. “Here. I’ve got Elizabeth Smith Braxton listed as an approved visitor. Can I see your ID?” Lizzie handed over her ID. Harrington was an ass. She wasn’t changing her name. No way. She wasn’t married. It’s a good thing John hadn’t come with her, because she’d likely have thrown something at him. Even though it was Harrington who’d made the arrangements…yep, she’d still have blamed John. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair. Apparently, “Elizabeth Smith” on her ID was sufficient, because the nurse asked her to have a seat and told her someone would be by to escort her to Sarah’s room.
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