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Orson frowns, likely at my tone of voice, but I’m not sure what else to say. She doesn’t want to talk with me or reassure me.
She’s went through her checkbox, and now she’s done. It’s a little underwhelming, and I hate that I’ve gotten this anxious to not even feel confident in what she’s said.
“Do you have any other concerns?” she asks, but I shake my head. I have plenty, but I’m not going to waste my time talking to her about them. “Okay, I’ll grab a nurse and get her to come steal some blood, and we’ll touch base in a few days. Want to head back into the waiting room for her? I’ve got a call.”
I nod, and Orson jumps up with me as we leave the room.
“You’re not very happy,” Orson mentions as we approach where Cevon and Griffin are sitting. Fin laughs at something Cevon’s said, but when they scent me, they both give me their full attention.
“That was quick,” Cev says, glancing at his watch with a frown. “You were barely in there ten minutes.”
“She said we’ll touch base in a month if my heat doesn’t come,” I say, shrugging a little. “They’re going to steal some blood to check if my heat is coming, but as long as it is, then we’ll not need to come back unless my heat doesn’t come.”
Fin frowns. “Okay. What about pregnancy? What about your cramps? What about the heavy flow? How long is your period going to last?”
Orson rubs my shoulders, sensing my upset. “Let’s head over to the other clinic, and we’ll see if we can get in a little early. I’m not sure we’re a good fit for this clinic.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, glancing at the receptionist who seems very unhappy with what Orson said. “Shouldn’t we at least get the blood test?”
“I’m sure that Dr Katyana Likens has the ability to draw blood,” Orson says, emphasising her name for some reason.
I nod slowly, and the four of us leave, much to my confusion. Didn’t they pay a lot of money to see her? Is he not upset?
“You weren’t happy with her,” Orson says once we’re away from the clinic.
“Well, no.” I shrug. “She just seemed so… dismissive. Very quick and to the point. She didn’t even introduce herself to us.”
And she was a little rude about my mental health, even if she didn’t outright say it.
It was confirming my fears—that people are going to judge me for going into heat when I’m depressed.
“No,” Orson says with a frown. “She didn’t. Her reviews were exemplary, but her bedside manner was not. Let’s see how this next one goes. I have better hopes, I promise.”
I nod, and the drive over doesn’t take long, and the clinic is very different to the one we’ve just been to. It’s a little smaller with automatic doors. When you go inside, the receptionist smiles at us, and even the decor is better here. It’s less… pink.
Which is never something I thought I’d complain about.
There’s a full wall with pamphlets on it, there’s a water fountain and some cups so you can grab something to drink. Hell, there’s even a few people here compared to us being the only ones at the previous clinic. It seems a little more relaxed, and I’m a lot more at ease.
“Hi, can I help you?” the receptionist asks. Her tag reads Gemma, and she’s got a short brown bob, with warm honey skin.
“We’ve got an appointment for Nora Hart,” Orson says, and the receptionist smiles at him.
“Let me just check,” she says, her Northern accent strong, before starting to type on the computer.
I spot a lady in the corner, nursing her toddler, and I smile as we make eye contact. She’s pregnant again, the extra heartbeats easy to hear, and a pang of emptiness hits me.
But I ignore that.
“Ah, perfect. I’ll let Dr Likens know you’re here and see if she can bring you in earlier,” the receptionist says. She rustles through her drawer, before pulling out a sample pot, and passing it to me.
I smile hesitantly, not sure why I need to do a urine test. She knows I’ve not yet had my heat, right?
“The toilets are just on the left there.”
I nod, not questioning it. There’s got to be a reason for it, even if the doctor at the last clinic didn’t do it.
“Let me check them first,” Cevon says, glancing around the room with suspicion lacing his actions. I go to protest, but Orson nods, and that’s it. I’ve been overruled.
