Page 84 of Dishing Up Love


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“Shit,” she says, “they won’t be open again until tomorrow.”

I chuckle. “Baby, if you wanted to go to a doctor right this minute, I could make that happen.”

“How?” she questions. “The doctor’s offices stay open later here?”

“This is LA. Doctors don’t set office hours; dollar bills do.” I smirk.

“I never thought I would be grateful for your cockiness,” she tells me, looking at me with hopeful eyes.

“So do you, baby? You want me to find a doctor right now?” She nods, her gaze turning pleading, even though she doesn’t need to beg. I would literally give her anything she wants in this very moment. I reach into my pocket, not letting her go with the other arm, and I make a call to my assistant. Within minutes, Rachel is sending me an address with an appointment to be there within thirty minutes.

Dean asks us if this is something we would like to do on our own, giving us the option for him and Emmy to stay here while I take my woman to see the doctor, but at Emmy and Erin’s simultaneous “No way!” that’s all the answer I need. We all pile back into my truck, thankfully making it to the office without Erin getting sick on the way, and when we arrive, Dr. McNealy meets us at his locked door, opening it up and allowing us in before locking it behind us once more.

A few minutes later, Erin is up on the exam table with me and Emmy sitting in the chairs along the wall, Dean choosing to stay behind in the waiting room.

“So what’s going on?” Dr. McNealy asks, and Erin holds out the pregnancy test, allowing him to see that it reads positive. “Well, congratulations are in order!” he says with a smile on his face that I see as I come to stand next to her.

Then I listen as the love of my life word-vomits her entire medical history onto the doctor. She explains to him in detail everything that went on from her miscarriage all the way until seven months ago, when she had her fibroid surgery. I watch the play of emotions across his face as I see the understanding with every slight nod of his head, and then his eyes alight, twinkling with mirth when he seems to put it all together in his head.

“Well, dear girl, I can tell you exactly what happened. Your myomectomy was successful in ridding your uterus of all the fibroids that would’ve been blocking any sperm from being able to enter the uterus through the cervix and into the fallopian tubes. Nevertheless, being diagnosed with a hostile uterus, you are still susceptible to miscarrying once again. But luckily there are now medications you can take in order to keep that from happening. And as long as we, or whoever your OB/GYN is, keep a good watch during the pregnancy, there is no reason why you shouldn’t be able to carry this little one full-term and have a healthy and happy baby.” He claps his hands, which give away he’s much older than what his plastic surgery enhanced face portrays.

A healthy and happy baby.

A healthy and happy baby.

A healthy and happy baby.

Those words circle my mind over and over again, the world seeming to finally slow down enough that it hits me what we’re actually doing here. It all seemed to happen so fast from the second in the kitchen when Dean suggested the idea of the pregnancy test to here, in this moment, with a medical professional telling us that it’s possible for us to have a healthy and happy baby, it repeats once more.

I look down at Erin, and although she’s a little paler than normal, looking a little green around the gills, I’ve never seen her look more beautiful than the second it all occurs to me.

I’m going to be a father.

Chapter 24

Erin

“SO THE QUESTION is now, what would you like to do? Do you want to wait until you can see your own OB/GYN before being placed on any type of medication? Or would you like to have me call in for your medical records and get you those prescriptions here?” Dr. McNealy asks.

I feel Curtis’s eyes on me as if he wants to talk about the decision, but I’ve already made up my mind about it before the question is all the way out of the doctor’s mouth. “Here. Now,” I say. “I have my medical records stored in my phone. I’m a therapist, so I know how handy those can be. If what you’re saying is true, then I don’t want to take any chances of losing the baby before I can get home to New Orleans on Monday. So go ahead and sign me up for these meds.”

I know I’ve made Curtis happy with my decision, because the soothing smile he’s kept on his face for me through all of this craziness turns into a huge grin and he nods before leaning down to kiss my cheek.

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