She kicked and screamed like I had personally offended her.
“That’s fair,” I said. “Wet clothes are rude.”
Then the door opened.
Heels clicked against the tile. The sound was sharp, quick, and angry.
I turned.
A woman in a cream blazer stood near the sinks. Her name tag said “Patricia.”
“You need to leave,” she snapped.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I’ll be done in one minute. My daughters needed…”
“I don’t care. This is a women’s restroom.”
“I understand. There was no changing table in the men’s room.”
“I will. But right now, my baby is half changed.”
She stepped nearer. “Men always have an excuse.”
I looked down at Ivy, who was finally in a clean diaper.
“Ma’am, I announced myself. I checked first. I’m not trying to bother anyone.”
“Then leave.”
Lily cried from the stroller.
Ivy joined her.
