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“That’s it then for now,” the doctor says, rising as she gives me a smile. “Again, I tell no one else any more details. Good night, Mr. Gerard. I’ll see myself out.”
She’ll do no such thing.
“I’ll see you out, but first I need to know, how far along is she?” I ask.
“Based on the date of her last period, she’s eight weeks along.”
Either she’s lying, or this baby’s mine.
Mine.
Mine?
What the fuck is in the water at Le Luxe?
She said she was on birth control. I trusted that.
“You said you were on birth control.”
Cosette’s smug look broadens. “Thought you didn’t believe the baby was yours?”
“Whether it is or not impacts our future, mine and yours, so I have to know for sure. And you know why I don’t take you at your word.” I don’t care that she winces. I push on. “Unless you’re lying about that date, or cheated on me when we were together, then the babyismine.”
“Oh, it’s yours alright,” she snaps. “I can tell by the way it’s making me sick already.”
Dr. Martin’s eyebrows rise before she responds. “We’ll know soon enough. For now, follow the instructions on this sheet here, and I’ll be in touch with the results of the paternity test shortly.” She packs her bag and heads for the door while Cosette peruses the paper she gave her. I can’t read the smaller print but can readFIRST TRIMESTER OF PREGNANCYacross the top wide and clear.
This feels surreal.
“I’d like to see you in another month.”
“A month?” Cosette and I say in unison.
There we go again.
“Why that long?” I ask her. “Don’t you have to take care of her and the baby? What if something goes wrong during that time?”
“There’s nothing to do now but make sure she’s nice and hydrated, eats well, and gets plenty of rest. Of course, if there are any concerns, or you have any symptoms on that sheet, you can call me directly at any time.” She hands us both a little business card with her name emblazoned on the front. “Normally I’d have you call the front desk, but when I work for the Gerard family, I have a direct line.”
Good.
That’s something, anyway.
After she’s gone, Cosette and I stand alone in the room, staring at each other. She stifles a yawn, her eyes watering.
“I told you,” she says quietly. She blinks and turns to the bed, sinking onto it.
I pull out the chair at the desk and sit.
We don’t talk again for long minutes. What should be happy news feels like weighted bricks in my stomach.
“I didn’t want you to… hurt the baby,” she whispers before she averts her eyes. “That’s theonlyreason I told you.”
I blow out an angry breath. “If what you’re telling me is true, then I deserve to know the truth.”
“Do you?” She tips her head to the side. “And why would I tell someone who doesn’t believe a word I say? Why would I trust someone who doesn’t actually give a shit aboutmywell-being? I half expect you to chain me to the bed, force-feed me prenatal vitamins, demand I get a C-section when I’m full term, and then take the baby for yourself.”
I stroke my chin. “Those are actually some good ideas.”
