AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I try to hold back a smile as I anticipate what Calista’s about to drop on this cute couple. I hope it’s good news for them.
“What test?” Mara asks, confusion on her face.
“As it turns out, you’re pregnant,” Calista tells her.
“What?” Noel and Mara say at the same time.
“Are you sure?” Noel asks, now cradling Mara’s hand between both of his.
Mara looks confused. “But ... but ... I took a test. It was negative.”
Calista looks at the laptop. “When did you take it?”
Mara looks to Noel. “Like a week ago?”
“Your last period was five weeks ago, correct?” Calista asks, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her.
“Yes, but I just figured my period was late,” Mara says. “That happens sometimes for me. I didn’t bother taking another test.”
“Sometimes tests are negative,” Calista tells her. “But according to your blood test, you are definitely pregnant, and your numbers look good. Congratulations.”
“I’m going to have a baby?” Mara asks Calista, like she can’t believe it.
“You are,” Calista confirms.
My heart goes all aflutter as I see Noel lean in and rest his head on his wife’s arm, his shoulders shaking as he cries. Mara tears up as well as she leans her head on his. It’s the perfect snapshot. My heart does a little lurch. I want this. I want this life. I want what they have.
“I’ll let you finish getting fluids, and then Lucy here can help you get on your way,” Calista says. “I’ll write you a prescription to help with nausea and get you some info on how to manage it. If it keeps up, or gets worse, please see your obstetrician.”
I follow Calista out after Mara and Noel both thank her repeatedly, even though she had nothing to do with it, but I guess she was the bearer of the good news.
“Now that’s what I call a good ending to the day,” Calista says.
AT JUST AFTER SEVEN, IN my favorite puffy white coat, and carrying a grocery bag half-full of a variety of sprinkles and a couple of round cake pans, I knock on the very tall door of Graham’s house. The air is crisp, with fresh snow on the ground around me. But the driveway and walkway look to be freshly plowed.
From the outside, Graham’s place looks like a good-sized home. Not huge or anything. Less modern than I was expecting and more craftsman style with its white exterior and black trim. A large front porch looks welcoming with its classic columns and matching black rocking chairs.
“Price,” Graham says when he opens the door.
“Dr. Shackwell,” I say in return. He steps aside, and as I enter, the unmistakable scent of new construction surrounds me—the combination of new wood floors and recently painted walls.
“Come on. We’re not at work,” he says, a smirk on his face. “You don’t need to be so formal. You can just call me doctor.”
“Har-har,” I say, mocking him.
I realize what had me feeling strange about coming here, as I walk farther inside his house, Graham trailing behind me. It’s because for the first few challenges, we’ve been at work or on our own.
I haven’t been around Graham in a casual setting in ... years. I haven’t even seen him in regular clothes until right now. The dark jeans and gray sweater he’s currently sporting are a stark contrast to his scrubs and doctor’s coat. He looks ... nice. Okay, fine. He looks like a freaking supermodel. He could be a model for a Doctors After Hours calendar.
At least I took the time to actually get ready before coming over. I left my hair down, applied more makeup than I normally do for work, and put on some soft leggings and an oversize taupe crew neck sweater. I didn’t do it in an attempt to get Graham to flirt with me (seriously, though, I’m trying not to be offended that he’s yet to make one suggestive comment)—I did it for myself. I’m in scrubs so often that when I think back about things I’ve done where I most certainly wasn’t in scrubs, that’s all I can picture. Me wearing scrubs skiing down a mountain. Me wearing scrubs boating on the lake. It’s like it’s the only way I can picture myself now.
“So this is your lair,” I say, taking in the clean white walls and the bright lighting.
“A graduation gift from my parents,” he says.
“A house?”
“Only child,” he says, pointing to himself. “They owned the lot already, so they made the down payment on the build-out.” He lets out a breath. “It was a good way to get me to move back here after graduation with a mountain of student debt. Cheap housing.”
