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EMMALINE

James held my hand in his as we walked into the doctor’s office. Numerous women were sitting in the waiting room, some pregnant, others either not or not yet noticeable. Some had kids with them, and others were sitting with their significant others.

It was kind of noisy for a waiting room, to be honest. I always thought of doctor’s offices as quiet places, but this one broke that stereotype.

“You would think people could talk quieter,” James grumbled in displeasure.

I laughed softly. “Honestly, I was just kind of thinking the same thing,” I admitted.

He flashed me a grin as we moved up in line to the front desk. “Hi; do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked me.

“Yes,” I told her. “Emmaline Arnold. My appointment time is at three fifteen.”

She grabbed a clipboard and handed it to me with a pen. James silently handed the pen back to her and pulled one out of his shirt pocket, handing it to me. My cheeks burned. “Um,” the receptionist stammered for a moment, “just fill out that paperwork, and when you’re finished, bring it back up to me with your insurance card.”

“I don’t—"

“Will do,” James told her as he led me away. I frowned up at him.

“James, I don’t have insurance,” I reminded him. “This is going to be extremely expensive.”

He pulled out his wallet as he gestured for me to take a seat and pulled out an insurance card. “You do, actually,” he told me. I gaped at him in astonishment. “I added you to my insurance the day you signed your name to our contract.” My heart squeezed in my chest. He gripped my chin. “I take care of what’s mine.” He pressed his lips to mine. “Fill out your paperwork,” he ordered. “I’ll help you fill out the insurance information part.”

I went about filling out all of my personal information, though I stopped at the part where it asked for the medical history of my parents. I frowned. “Um, how do I fill this out?” I asked, feeling extremely embarrassed and stupid.

James looked over at the question and took the clipboard from me, writing “N/A” for each one. He handed me the clipboard back. “Nothing else you can put since you don’t know anything about them,” he reminded me. I started filling out the rest of my paperwork. “Do you ever wonder who they were?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. When I left the foster care system, one of the social workers that I was familiar with told me that my parents had always had the option of regaining custody of me; they just chose not to.” I shrugged. “It’s a door I prefer to keep firmly closed,” I told him honestly. I couldn’t get hurt by their abandonment more than I already had if I left that can of worms alone.

I passed him the clipboard when I got to the insurance section. He pulled his card out and began filling out the information for me. Once that was completed, I filled out a couple of HIPAA and privacy forms. James pressed a kiss to my forehead and took it up front for me, telling me to just stay seated. I watched as he handed over his insurance card to the receptionist, and after a couple of moments, he pulled out his wallet and handed the receptionist some money. I frowned in confusion as I watched.

“What was the money for?” I asked him when he came back.

“I have a deductible,” he explained. At my confused look, he went further in-depth. “It basically means that I have a certain amount of money to pay in medical expenses before my insurance will begin to cover anything.”

“What’s the point of insurance, then?” I asked him, not understanding what was going on. I’d grown up on state insurance because I was a foster child, so I didn’t understand having to pay for medical services when you had insurance.

He laughed. “Sometimes, I ask myself that same question, little one.” He grabbed my hand in his and linked our fingers together. “You nervous?” he asked me when he reached over and settled his other hand on my knee, stopping it from bouncing.

I hadn’t even realized that I had been doing that.

I nodded. “Extremely,” I admitted. I swallowed thickly. “Do you really think something is wrong with me, James?” I asked him. I’d always thought that my bleeding was normal.

His lips thinned out into a flat line as he nodded his head. “Yeah, baby, I do. What you’ve been experiencing – it’s not normal. I understand a woman’s reproductive system enough to know that – made it a point that I understand it because of the kind of sexual life I prefer,” he informed me.

I tightened my hand around his. “I’m sorry for yesterday,” I apologized.

He brought my hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to my knuckles. “We both did some dumb shit yesterday so, I’m sorry, too,” he apologized. “Don’t let it bother you. You’re right – it is your body. I fully respect that.” He drew in a deep breath. “But at the same time, little one, I’ll never allow you to neglect your body. If that means I have to take control of it, then I will.”

Before I could respond, a nurse called my name. I stood up from the chair, and with James at my side, I walked towards the nurse. She gave me a warm smile. “My name is Shelby. I’ll be your nurse today. Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” I told her. “You?”

“Just great.” She smiled. “Follow me. I’m going to take your vitals, and then, I’ll take you to the room you’ll be in when you see Dr. Franklin.”

I drew in a deep breath. James gently squeezed my hand. I looked up at him. He leaned down and brushed his lips to my temple before he lowered his lips to my ear. “Be strong, my queen. I’m still by your side – always,” he soothed.

~*~*~

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