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Chapter Thirty-Three
Josephine
The day after Maceo told me I needed to go into hiding, I worked frantically to line up new doctors in Tallahassee. Jared and my dad took over the restaurant project, and I turned all future projects over to Jared until my return. I called in a couple of favors and landed a consulting project engineer for the duration of my absence and my maternity leave.
There’s so much to wrap up before my departure. In two weeks, Punk will take me with him to Florida to hideout at his step-father’s estate. When Maceo told me Punk was the stepson of a senator, I damn near fell out of my chair. Punk doesn’t give off any kind of pedigree vibe.
When I asked Punk about it, he firmly but gently informed me he was not. “I’m the son of a SEAL. I have no relation to the old goat who married my mom.”
Punk has all the reason in the world to dislike his family, and that’s why it kills me that he asked his family for help.
Oddly, Punk doesn’t seem too bothered by confronting them after nearly three years of no contact. But it sure as shit bugs the hell out of me. I don’t want my brother to have to face his ex during family meals. It’s bad enough his half-brother married her behind Punk’s back, but to have it in his face for however long we stay there…
The more I think about it, the more upset I get. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
He rolls his blue eyes. “Jo, we’ve talked about this. It’s not safe here.”
“I’m not talking about going into hiding—I’ve come to terms with that. I’m talking about staying with those awful people.”
Punk gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for your concern, but you don’t need to worry. I’ll be fine. Plus, we don’t have time to shop around for another highly secure hideout.”
After talking with Punk, it reminded me of the conversation we had about my concerns with my gestational diabetes. I decided I needed to address it with Maceo.
As always, Maceo fell into deep contemplation, probably concocting wild saboteur theories as to what went wrong with my diagnosis. We both agreed it was a good idea to talk to my doctor and scheduled a late morning appointment with Doctor Stoll.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I explain to my doctor sitting across from him in the exam room. “I eat healthy, exercise, and am diligent with tracking my glucose, but there’s no extreme variation with my numbers. There should be something that would set it off. Even some healthy foods can give a glucose spike if you truly have an insulin problem. I have had none of that.”
Doctor Stoll frowns, rubbing his chin with his fingers as he scrolls my meter’s test readings in his other hand. “I agree the numbers don’t match the diagnosis. We should try a new meter.”
“Did and done,” Maceo says. “Tried new controls and testing strips too. There was no change between meters.”
The doctor’s frown lines deepen. “I mean, you may have a mild case of gestational diabetes, and your pancreas is producing more insulin than others with it, but there should still be evidence of it in your readings. A false positive could happen, but all four of your hourly labs came back positive.”
Relieved I’m not overreacting, I ask, “Is it possible to repeat the test? I don’t want to continue sticking myself with a lancer six times a day if I don’t have to. Plus, I miss chocolate.”
“We can do that. Let’s set the test up for some time this week.”
“Can we do it today? I have a busy schedule and I’m limited on time. I fasted this morning, so I can take the test anytime.”
“We most certainly can. I’ll have Nurse Abby come in and draw your first sample and give you the first glucose drink.”
“Is there a way to have another lab test the samples?” Maceo asks.
The doctor arches a gray eyebrow. “Are you requesting the samples be sent somewhere else?”
Not understanding my husband, I look at him quizzically. “Why?”
“False positives happen, but if it was an error on the part of a medical technologist, I’d rather have another lab run the samples,” he explains.
Well, that’s a bit unsettling to think a tech mishandled my previous samples. “Does Flay know someone in the field or has a lab he trusts?”
“He does,” he says to me.
“I’d like my samples to be sent to the laboratory that our friend suggests,” I say to my doctor.
“Sounds good,” Doctor Stoll says. “Get me the name and contact info of the lab and it will be done.”
* * *
