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“Jan’s going to take you to do your test, then once we have the results we can continue.”
Sophie didn’t look at her. Instead, she looked at me, something unreadable in those bright blue eyes, something similar to fear but not quite the same. I could put the pieces together from my years as a reproductive specialist, I knew the look, despite it being so specific, so different. I knew she didn’t want to take the test, and I knew exactly why. She didn’t want another negative. Didn’t want to see it, to hear the words. Didn’t want it to hurt her again.
“I know,” I said quietly, pursing my lips together for emphasis. “We have to check, Soph.”
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she nodded her head before picking herself up and defeatedly following a confused Janice out the door. And even though I had a mountain of paperwork to deal with and could have spent the next ten minutes getting things done, I couldn’t do anything except think about her every second she was out of my room.
————
“I’m sorry for yesterday.”
My leg bounced again as I stared at the screen, ticking off boxes. It was the first time she’d spoken since coming back from her pregnancy test, and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “That’s unnecessary,” I said blandly, trying my best to keep my eyes off her body as I ticked ‘physically fit.’
“I want you to know that I don’t expect you to actually have dinner with my parents,” she said. She was wringing her hands in her lap, something she’d done yesterday before running across our joined lawns and grabbing me the same way I’d done to her ten minutes ago. I wondered if it was her way of dealing with nerves. “I’ll figure something out. Tell them I got pregnant and that you died or something.”
I hid my smirk with the back of my hand. “Already planning my death, Soph?”
The glare she leveled at me told me that yes, she definitely was.
“Honestly, it’s fine,” I continued. I wrapped my fingers around my knee, forcing my leg to stop bouncing. “I don’t mind pretending to be your fiancé. I’m happy to have dinner with your parents if you need.”
“There’s really no need?—”
“Consider it a favor.” I turned my chair toward her. I knew what had to be done—a favor for a favor. My mom couldn’t take Jamey forever, and it was already becoming a hassle after only a few days. “And besides, I already know how you can pay me back.”
Confusion rippled across her face before making the stark shift into angered shock. Her brows rose, her nostrils flared again, and god fucking dammit if I wasn’t already confused about how I’d upset her again, I’d be transfixed on how cute she looked when she’s mad.
She stood from her chair, purse clutched in one fisted hand. My mind spun, combing through thought after thought at how I’d said something offensive. “Are you fucking serious?” She hissed, the words icy and frigid, wrought with annoyance and a lack of patience. “What kind of woman do you think I am?”
I could physically feel it click in my mind.
“Whoa, whoa, hold on.” I rolled my chair back a foot, putting some precious distance between us. “That’s not what I meant?—”
“Bullshit.” The laugh that seeped from her wasn’t one of joy or humor. No, it was angry, filled with contempt and shock and disbelief within herself. “Is this what you do with your patients? Get them all drugged up on whatever magic fertility potions you guys use and then fuck them?”
I wanted to laugh. It sounded like a joke, but from the look on her face, I knew damn well it wasn’t. “Absolutely not. Can you let me explain?”
“No need,” she seethed, taking one step toward the door. “I hope you enjoy bad reviews and legal action.”
“Sophie—”
Metal crashed against metal. The chair she’d been in toppled, clanging against a cart with the blood testing kit atop it, sending it spinning. Her foot had caught, and I stood, crossing the distance faster than I thought I could. Down, down, down, she went toward the floor at lightning speed, and I couldn’t think of anything other than grabbing her and wrapping my arms around her to avoid the fall.
With one hand on the small of her back and the other wrapped around her wrist as I’d done before, I held her minimal weight. Heart pounding and eyes wild, she stared up at me, her lips parted in shock and confusion as to how we’d ended up in the position we were in.
The temptation to press my lips to hers overwhelmed me at once, like a grease fire spreading, one that could only be tamped down, not put out. It was wrong and unprofessional, but there was a pull there, one that had hit me the first time I’d seen her that night checking her mail, one that hadn’t left me since. She was intoxicating, even in her anger.
Righting us before I could get the chance to give in to temptation, I made sure she was steady on her feet before putting space between us again. I needed to breathe, to calm down, to regain control of myself so I didn’t end up with a class-action lawsuit on my hands.
I pushed my hands through my hair, smoothing back the loose tendrils that had escaped around my face. “I just wanted to ask you to watch my son.”
Her hand was on the door handle, a second from leaving, but she didn’t look away from me.
“His nanny quit. I can’t find anyone else. You’re next door, and I heard you had babysitting experience and worked from home,” I rapid-fired, hoping it would clear up the confusion long enough for her to stay. My breath was heavy, quick. Why do you affect me like this?
“You just want me to watch your kid?”
I nodded.
