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Me: Demanding but sure.
Lochie: Some call it demanding. I call it being a gentleman taking charge.
Let me confirm reservations.
Lochie: And by the way, I’m glad you reached out.
Lifting my head, I see Eric still rambling on about auras and energies. To be polite, I nod a few times, unable to hide my smile from reading Lochie’s text.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“A little bit yes, and partially no,” I drag, bored with his talking. “Look, I’m beat and need to pack for tomorrow.”
“We’re leaving at midday, sharp.”
“We?”
“Yes, we,” he announces, crossing his arms while minutely shaking his head. “Me and you. I’m your publicist and need to make sure nothing goes wrong.”
“Well then, I’ll pack the Xanax. You on an island with pool boys, something tells me I’ll need it with all the high-pitched fangirling.”
Eric pouts his lips then follows with a malicious laugh. “Honey, it’s like we’re two beautiful peas in a glamorous pod. You know me too well.”
I’m unable to hold back my grin. “You’re hard work, Eric Kennedy. How you’re still married is beyond me.”
The obnoxious ring of my phone wakes me. The morning sun is shining through the drapes while I answer the call with a croak in my voice.
Dr. Taylor informs me my results have returned and requests to see me immediately. Over the phone, her tone is cold, making me break out into a panic. I beg her to tell me, but she insists on face-to-face contact but assures me it’s not life-threatening, so to calm down.
I crashed early last night, tired again from the day and hoping Dr. Taylor has solutions to fix whatever the hell is wrong with me. Lochie responded with an address for dinner, and after a few flirty text messages, I fell asleep with my phone on my face.
After a quick shower and dressing into a pair of jeans with a black bodysuit, I answer the door and motion for Dr. Taylor to come in. She keeps her greeting short and simple, not looking me in the eye, which causes me concern.
Dr. Taylor sits on the sofa across from me.
I’m waiting for her lecture on how the diet pills I’ve been consuming is what’s causing me to be so ill over the last month or two. Perhaps, in hindsight, I should have listened to Millie when she warned me of the damage they can do to my body. But stubborn me just continued, and now I’m paying the price.
“Miss Edwards, I have your results here.”
Dr. Taylor procrastinates in the most annoying way possible. She’s pushing close to a hundred— okay, exaggerating a little—but doesn’t she know that time is of the essence? In less than two hours, I need to board a flight to the Bahamas for a photoshoot. Just give me the pep talk, and I’ll be on my merry way.
“You’re pregnant, and the blood work shows you’re about four months along.”
Frozen on the spot, Dr. Taylor hands me a piece of paper with the results. I barely make out the words, all of them jumbled and blurry. My skin tingles in discomfort as my chest tightens, restricting my ability to breathe so effortlessly.
This. Cannot. Be. Happening.
I gasp for air, my eyes twitch, followed by the room spinning. Dr. Taylor is concerned, calling my name in the distance. I focus on her face, mumbling the question that is bursting to come out.
“So, when you say four months, I fell pregnant around... ”
“January,” she confirms.
My breaths come hard and fast, the panic crippling my ability to even talk.
“But it was only one time,” I beg, almost in tears. “I had my shot back then, and we used a condom…I think.”
“Miss Edwards, I always advise my patients that the birth control shot is not one hundred percent effective. You did the right thing using a condom if you did, but even condoms aren’t one hundred percent.”
