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Ultrasound. For thebaby. I nod, lying back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Eight weeks. Fucking shit. I must have got pregnant almost the very first time we fucked. And I’ve been fucking pregnant fortwo fucking months? How didn’t I notice?
“I-I’ve had alcohol.”
Dr. Mackenzie smiles down at me, snapping on gloves and picking up a large tube.
“It shouldn’t have had any effect on the fetus. But from now on, no alcohol and no smoking. You will also need to follow a stricter diet, no soft cheeses, no deli meats, and I’ll have the nurse give you some supplements.”
I nod mechanically. I have some slightly more pressing issues than diet right now. I suck in a breath when the plastic wand with the cold gel hits my still flat stomach.
Dr. Mackenzie moves it around, and the tears I had been managing to hold back spill over as awap-wap-wapfills the room. Oh,God.
“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Mackenzie tells me quietly, pressing a tissue into my hands.
I hold it to my eyes as she does some measurements and hands me a paper towel to clean the gel off my skin.
I sit up, and we sit in silence until she speaks again.
“There are several options. We can give you a referral to Planned Parenthood if that is the path you wish to take.”
I shake my head, a small whimper in my throat. I want this baby. Connor’s baby.Ourbaby. If he doesn’t, then I will leave Boston. My heart aches at the thought because,of course,I’m the stupid idiot who went and fell in love with my fucking Irish mobster boss.
“All right then,” she says kindly, running me through the do’s and don’ts of pregnancy and arranging my next check-up. I thank her, stumbling a little as I get to my feet, and she steadies me.
“We’ll get you a glass of water before you leave.”
Dr. Mackenzie guides me out to the waiting room. One of the receptionists smiles and brings me water, standing and making sure I drink the whole lot before paying and leaving. I need to get home and lie down. I need tothink.
I’m so close to my car when I hear “Ms. Andrea Halpern?” and turn, thinking that the clinic forgot to give me an information packet or something. But it’s a uniformed cop. I automatically curl my arms around my middle, protecting Connor’s baby from these people.
“Yes,” I huff defensively. The cop’s eyes rove over me, and he gestures at his patrol car, where his partner is standing.
“We need you to come with us to the station.”
I blink at him. Don’t they need a warrant to arrest me? I haven’t done anything wrong. Is this because those Vice Cops saw me with Connor at Oracle? Did they follow me here to the clinic in Dot?
“Why?”
His eyes narrow. “We have some questions for you regarding the assault of Mr. Hamish MacLauchlan.”
I blink at him again. Well, at least it isn’t about Connor’s gambling hall. I had nothing to do with Hamish getting his ass handed to him. They can question me all they want. I was at home taking a bath and getting ready to have sex with Connor.
“Can I take my car?” I ask, but he’s already shaking his head.
“I don’t want to have to cuff you, Ms. Halpern,” he tells me sternly.
I hold my midriff a little tighter. Numbly, I follow the officer, and they shut me in the back of their patrol car like I’m some sort of criminal. I stare out the window as Dot flashes past us. This has to be some kind of bad dream. Maybe I’m going to wake up, and it will be this morning, and I won’t have been to the clinic yet.
At the station, I’m taken into an interrogation room. They let me keep my pocketbook. They thoroughly searched it and were happy I didn’t have anything that could be a weapon on me.
Sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chair, I keep my arms wrapped around my waist as two different cops sit across from me. These don’t have uniforms on.
“You were in a relationship with Mr. MacLauchlan for almost three years, correct?” One of the officers questioning me kicks off the interrogation.
“That’s correct,” I whisper, huddling over, still protecting my stomach. It’s probably irrational, but I don’t want Connor’s baby near these people.
“And this relationship ended, when?” Officer Two asks. I swallow, trying to think of exact dates.
“Uh, about five months ago.”
