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Beside her Rafael sat quietly, listening intently. Lottie could sense his concentration, the significance of the conversation only really evident in the stiff posture of his body.
Moving on from Lottie’s fertility deficiencies, Dr Oveisi turned his attention to the precious embryo. More notes were taken as Rafael confirmed that, yes, it had been frozen at five days old, and gave the name of the fertility clinic where it was stored.
‘And there is only one blastocyst?’ Looking up briefly, Dr Oveisi directed the question at Rafael.
They both knew the term blastocyst: an embryo that had been cultured for five days. Three gruelling rounds of IVF had left them horribly familiar with all the medical terminology.
‘Yes.’ The lack of emotion in Rafael’s clipped reply was telling. ‘Just the one.’
‘Right.’ Screwing the top back on his fountain pen and stowing it in his inside pocket, Dr Oveisi stood up. ‘I think that is everything. I will arrange a visit from one of our fertility nurses to discuss Contessa Revaldi’s hormone injections. Once we have a date for the transfer I will see you at the clinic.’
Allowing himself the smallest of smiles, he held out his hand to shake Lottie’s, bowing slightly before leaving the room with Rafael.
Lottie found herself gazing at his vacated seat. This was all happening so fast. Dr Oveisi, for all his brusque impersonality, had made it seem real, tangible. Was it really possible that a few weeks from now she could be pregnant? Pregnant with Rafael’s child?
* * *
As promised, the fertility nurse turned up the next day, carrying her bag full of potions. Lottie immediately liked her—a young Eastern European called Gina, obviously very bright, and attractive with it. Her crisp white uniform set off her slender figure nicely, her hair was scraped back into a bouncy ponytail and her intelligent blue eyes held a steady gaze.
Until she saw Rafael, of course. Lottie could almost see her trying to control the phwoar! response, fighting to remain professional in the face of this alarmingly handsome man.
Rafael treated her to a polite smile before announcing that he would leave them to it. Alone together, the two women exchanged a glance, and the flush on Gina’s face took its time to recede as she turned away to open her bag, fumbling inside for her equipment.
Gina had intended to come and administer the hormone injections every day, until Lottie told her that she could do it for herself. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done it before. She watched as Lottie pushed her first injection into her thigh and, obviously satisfied that she knew what she was doing, left her with instructions on the strict routine she had to follow until her next visit.
‘And I don’t need to tell you about the possible side effects either?’ Gina gave Lottie a sympathetic smile.
‘Headaches, stomach cramps, mood swings, hot flushes... Looking forward to it already.’ Lottie grinned back. ‘Been there—got the tee shirt.’
‘Well, I hope it’s a baggy one,’ Gina replied. ‘You’ll need it to cover the baby bump!’
‘Let’s hope so.’
The two women looked at each other.
‘This is Dr Oveisi we are talking about here,’ said Gina. ‘He takes hope and turns it into reality.’
Gina’s faith was touching, even if it did sound a little like a line from a fertility clinic brochure.
Gazing at the array of medication spread out on the table in front of her forcefully brought home to Lottie what she had to go through—what she had agreed to do. But there was no going back now.
* * *
‘Yes, I promise I will tell you all about it when I get back. Yes... No... I’m fine. Honestly, Alex, there’s nothing for you to worry about. Now, you get back to your Pinot Grigio and let me get some sleep. It’s gone midnight here, I’ll have you know.’
Lottie ended the call and twisted round to put her phone down on the bedside table. She loved Alex, she really did, but she was becoming increasingly difficult to fob off—especially after a glass or two of wine fuelled her slightly slurred determination to find out, ‘Just what is going on over there, Lots?’
Lottie had lived the past few days in a bubble of unreality—the situation being so crazy that she could hardly come to terms with it herself, let alone try to explain it to someone as excitable as Alex.
She had arrived at Monterrato convinced that she would be signing divorce papers, severing all ties with Rafael, and yet now here she was, trying to get pregnant with his baby and wanting it more desperately than she dared admit even to herself.
Turning out the light, she curled up under the duvet. Her life back in England seemed very far away right now, even though she knew she was going to have to face up to it again at some point—especially the small matter of her job at the Ibrahim Gallery. Ibrahim himself had made it quite clear that he would not authorise any extended leave and that if she wasn’t back at her desk within the week there would be no desk for her to come back to. Bearing in mind that threat, she was now left wondering whether she actually had a job at all.
