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His head tilts as he looks up. “You don’t know the first day of your last period?”
“Uh…no.”
“We can get a tracker app for your phone. It’s good information to have.”
“Okay, good doctor.”
“You still wouldn’t be through your first trimester…”
“No, but—”
He shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “I’ll get my act together. I’m a fucking doctor. I keep a stoic face all the time. I can do this.”
I laugh again and make a face when he scowls at me.
“Here’s the thing.” I hold up my hand when he starts to argue with me. “If something awful were to happen, I’d want your family to know about it anyway, so we could acknowledge that this baby was important to us, no matter what…you know?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and nods. “Yeah, I get that,” he says softly.
“Okay. Think you can do all the things, Dr. McGorg?”
“Put me to work, Little Rocket. I’m sorry I lost my shit earlier.”
“It was…something.” I whistle. “But it only made me love you more,” I add. “Aw, there it is.” I point at his smile. “Took that long enough to show up. Geez.”
“Why are you all fine this morning and I’m the one who’s a mess?”
I shrug. “I was a mess for too many consecutive days and got it out last night, and I woke up this morning to the great beyond.” I walk over to him and place his hands on my hips, leaning down to kiss him on the nose.
“Mmm, that was good.”
“Sogood. Think you’re okay to go out there or do I need to get them out of the house before you come out?” I ask.
“I…don’t know,” he admits.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. But if they don’t leave for some reason and you feel the gab pouring out of your mouth faster than you can contain it, count to ten and just smile.” I snap my fingers. “Or, I know—give me a look and I’ll kiss you.”
“You’re having way too much fun with this.”
CHAPTERFORTY-EIGHT
PUT IT ON THE LIST
WYATT
Everything in me calms when we’re at the hospital and I’m back in my element doing what I know.
Of course, the fact that the patient is the love of my life and she’s having my baby carries a weight that isn’t exactly familiar, but I’m thorough and unflappable.
The complete opposite of the shit show I was at Marlow’s.
I’ve never been great at keeping secrets.
The family stopped telling me what they’d bought for everyone else as Christmas gifts because even when I got better about keeping it to myself, if anyone tried to trick or coax the answers out of me, I was toast.
I thought I’d gotten past that, but apparently fucking not.
“I cannotbelieveI didn’t even feel the poke,” Marlow says a second time. She pulls off the cotton swab and tape and marvels that there’s no sign of the needle. “Can you always do my blood work?”
