With a swift glance to ensure he wrote the correct amount and signed his name, I give him a polite smile. “Thanks, Frank.”You stank.Sometimes I crack myself up with my own jokes, especially since Silas doesn’t laugh at them anymore.
Well, time to gas up and then learn more about my baby. Despite the shaky future in front of us, I’m excited. This baby will have a loving momma, even if Silas doesn’t want to be a daddy.
Daddy.The word brings Connor Shay to mind. It’s been difficult with his jacket that still smells of him (not that I’ve picked it up and sniffed it—much) lying around at work, but I’ve forced myself to refrain from thinking about him. Even now, almost a week later, embarrassment burns through my sternum at the thought of our interaction. I can’t believe I called such an attractive man that name when I know—I know—the innuendo behind it.
Clearing my thoughts, I smile down at my belly. “Let’s get this show on the road, baby.”
Myleftkneebouncesnervously as I wait to be called back into an exam room of the low-income clinic. Being fingered by a doctor isn’t my idea of a good time, but neither is being fingered by Silas, sadly. At least I have no expectation of pleasure from a doctor.
Mentally, I slap myself. Why do I think things like that? It’s better than the last time I had a pelvic exam and nervously blurted out,So...do you enjoy your job?
Fun times.
God, I really have to pee.?My bladder has been super active this past week, but I read online that it’s a pretty common thing. Pretty sure I’ll have to give a urine sample for the doctor to confirm what I already know, so that works just right.
Repositioning in my chair to get some relief for my bladder, I accidentally bump the arm of the obviously pregnant woman next to me. “Sorry,” I offer up with a perfunctory smile. “You’d think they’d have learned by now that two elbows aren’t really capable of sharing an armrest this small.”
“You’re telling me,” she says wryly. Catching my quick glance over her protruding lower half, she rests a hand over her bump. “Twins.”
Oh. My. God. She’s huge.Huge.“Wow...” What do I say in response? God! “That’s insane. Congratulations! This is my first appointment, but I hope I’m just having one. Not that two are too much,” I hurriedly add on so I don’t offend her. “Mad respect to you, though.”
“It gets even better. This is my second set. I wasn’t as big then, but at least I haven’t had much morning sickness with this pregnancy.”
My jaw must drop open in shock, because I’m floored. Two sets of twins. I can’t even imagine dealing with one set.
“Rosanna Taylor?” a nurse calls from the doorway.
Rubbing my clammy hands on my knees, I stand. “Well,” I tell my short-term friend with a tremulous smile, “good luck to you, and congratulations again.”
“Same to you.” She gives me a little wave.
Following the older nurse around the corner, my heart rate picks up at the sight of medical supplies. My blood pressure is probably going to be higher than usual, simply because I have white coat syndrome.
“If you’ll just step on the scale, Ms. Taylor. Thank you.” I watch her make adjustments until the scale balances. “Okay, have a seat here and roll your sleeve up. I’m just going to take your vitals.”
I hope it doesn’t involve needles. I hate needles. Bracing myself, I bare my arm and watch her slide the cuff above my elbow. “Just so you know, I have an unreasonable fear of doctors, so my numbers are probably going to be higher than normal.”
The nurse chuckles lightly. “That’s actually pretty common. Close your eyes and relax your shoulders for me. There we go.”
My arm gets squeezed to within an inch of its life as the cuff tightens around me. A thought comes to me, another one of those out-of-the-blue thoughts that rebel against control, and I bite my lip to hold back my laughter.
I wonder how many guys have tried to take their blood pressure through their cock. Would it give the same reading? If it’s erect, the veins are much closer to the surface, so it might be possible with one of those blood pressure monitors for wrists. Surely some guy has done it in the name of science. Maybe even self-pleasure. Should I ask the nurse? I open my mouth just as the pressure releases with a hiss.
“Not too bad. A little higher than what we’d like, but still okay.”
Missed my chance, and good thing, too. No need to shock the poor woman with my weirdness.
“One last thing and then we’ll get you into a room. Take this cup and give a urine sample. You can leave it in the depository and then take a seat in room three, all right?” She hands me a sample cup and directs me to the restroom. “The doctor will be with you shortly, Ms. Taylor.”
After fighting with a shy bladder, I manage to leave enough for them to work with and go to room three so I can be anxious in peace. Oxymoronic, I know, but it helps. Changing into the paper medical gown, I fold my clothes on the chair and walk around the small room, looking at the posters showing the various stages of pregnancy. I’m thinking I’m eight weeks along, because that was the only night no condom was used.
“Aww...” If it’s true, then my baby was the size of a blueberry last week. And now, my little one is the size of a raspberry. In awe, I peer down at myself. This is real and there’s a tiny person inside of me. I...I think I’m about to cry. “Hey, little Raspberry,” I whisper.
Knock-knock.“Ms. Taylor?”
It’s the doctor. Blinking past the sudden onset of tears, I sniff and regain my composure. “Come in.”
An older woman with friendly eyes steps in. “I’m Dr. Blackwell. How are we today, Ms. Taylor?”
