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And after weeks of hovering and doting, a part of me is relieved he’s getting back into his old habits.
Because I know we can’t stay in our bubble forever.
No matter how badly I want to.
Still, I miss Carter with a fierceness that surprises me, and while I’m glad that Sam and I are reconnecting again, another part of me can’t help but feel like Carter should be here. He should be the one sitting across from me while I sit on the exam table, waiting to hear back from the doctor about my test results. After an entire week of feeling sick, I know that I need to get to the bottom of what’s happening.
Contrary to what Carter believes, I can’t stay home forever.
“Yeah, things have been intense,” Sam agrees, with a sigh. “I honestly can’t believe how quickly things are escalating with the Philipses and the Natoris.”
I swallow. “Has Tristan told you what’s been happening?”
I hate feeling like I’m using Sam, but since my father’s death, Carter has kept me even more out of the loop than usual. While I appreciated it at first, I know firsthand how dangerous it can be to have secrets, the kinds that fester and spread like poison.
I’m determined to make sure Carter and I don’t repeat the same mistakes.
Sam drops her phone into her purse and stands up. “No, but I don’t ask to be honest. I figure the less I know, the better.”
I tilt my head to the side and study her. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
But I know Carter and I aren’t like that.
We never can be.
Sam straightens her back and opens her mouth just as the door to the exam room opens, revealing a young red-haired woman wearing flats and carrying a clipboard. She offers us both a small smile and snaps on her latex gloves. Then she lifts the clipboard to her face and skims over the information. When she’s done, she steps closer and motions for me to face the front of the room.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Isabella. I’m Dr. Munroe.” The doctor presses two fingers against my wrist, the smile never leaving her face. “So, according to your chart, you’ve been feeling sick lately?”
I nod and keep my arm held out. “Yeah, nausea, vomiting, bloated stomach, and I’ve been feeling very tired lately even though I’m getting a lot of sleep.”
Dr. Munroe releases my wrist and unwinds the stethoscope from around her neck. She presses it against my back, the cool metal harsh against my flushed skin. “Take a deep breath for me, please. How about breathlessness?”
“Yeah, I’ve been feeling that too.” I inhale, and when she signals, I release my breath. “And I’ve been getting these bizarre food cravings.”
The doctor nods and removes her stethoscope. She jots something down on the clipboard. “I assume you’re active sexually?”
A flush rises over my neck and stains my cheeks. “I am, but I had a birth control implant put in a while ago.”
She writes something else down. “Alright, I’m just going to take a blood sample so we can rule out a few things.”
With that, she sets her clipboard down on the desk and takes my arm in hers. She pats my skin for a while until she finally spots a vein. Then she opens a drawer and rips open a pack of brand-new syringes. When she looks back at me, she gestures for me to clench my hand into a fist.
I look over at Sam, who has drifted closer to the exam bed. She takes my free hand in hers and gives me a reassuring smile. “You’re doing great.”
There is a stinging sensation, and I inhale sharply.
A few short minutes later, Dr. Munroe moves away, and I hear the gloves being snapped off. I look back at her, and she’s holding a vial with my blood. She presses a piece of cotton to the wound and motions for me to keep it there. “I can have the tests ready for you in half an hour, but you’ll have to pay extra.”
I look at Sam and then back at her. “Sure.”
“Okay, you can wait here till then.” Dr. Munroe gives me another smile and steps out, the door clicking shut behind her. Sam holds my hand for a while longer, then she releases it and wanders over to the window.
I lean back against the exam table and stare at the ceiling.
I don’t realize I’ve drifted off until the doctor returns, a folder in her hand and a furrow between her brows. “Okay, your test results are back. Why don’t we move to the consultation room so you’re more comfortable.”
We follow the doctor to her office as Sam and I share concerned glances.
