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What could it be? From Dr. Quinn’s expression, nothing good.
I steel myself for the worst, while still reeling from the usual sucker punch to the stomach seeing Marissa and not having her is. All these years apart, I’d gotten used to the dull ache of being away from her. Almost to the point the pain had become second nature to me, familiar, like putting on old shoes worn from countless miles traveled. So familiar, in fact, I’d forgotten it even existed. I’ve been able to lie to myself, to tell myself I’d forgotten her. Out of sight, out of mind. But now, she’s in my head all the time. Since she’s come back into my life, the pain has become sharper, constant, and impossible to ignore.
Her head turns to me and her jaw drops. “What are you doing here? What is this?” No matter that her eyes are flaring with suppressed rage, I still find them irresistible. And she looks as surprised to see me as I am to see her, so she definitely didn’t file a complaint.
“I don’t know.” I look between her and Dr. Quinn.
“Dr. Raikes.” He gestures at the remaining empty chair in the room. “If you could take a seat. Close the door behind you, please.”
Gingerly, I do as I’m told, throwing another furtive side glance at Marissa before sitting down like a good boy.
Dr. Quinn sighs. “I’ve asked both of you to come here today because I have to deliver a piece of potentially upsetting news.”
My boss’s words compel all my attention and I turn my focus on him.
He stares down at a paper on his desk. “Miss Mayer, you started your IVF cycle with us on September twentieth and had your first ultrasound check-up with Dr. Raikes on the twenty-second, correct?”
“Yes,” Marissa replies in an icy tone that doesn’t match the flush of her cheeks.
“And on that same day.” Dr. Quinn turns to me. “You filed a doctor-patient conflict form and added it to Miss Mayer’s medical record. Correct?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Miss Mayer, following a standard hormone stimulation protocol, you had a successful retrieval of thirteen viable eggs and were implanted with a five-day-old blastocyst on October eighth.”
Tapping her fingers on the chair armrest, Marissa asks, “Have you called me in with extreme urgency for a recap of my IVF cycle?”
“No.” Dr. Quinn, a usually confident, calm man, lowers his gaze. He clears his throat and, in a raspy voice, announces, “I’m afraid we made a mistake.”
Marissa frowns. “I’m sorry? What mistake?”
“It appears that the lab technician responsible for the creation of your embryos picked the wrong sperm sample. A clerical mishap more than a scientific one, really. He misread the form. See, Dr. Raikes is a donor for our research projects, and his sample was used instead of the donor you’d selected.”
My heart thunders in my chest, thrashing against my rib cage while a million conflicting thoughts fight for attention in my brain. The semen I donated was only meant for lab research—the clinic is doing a detailed study on how temperature affects sperm; it was never intended to be used on an actual fertilization. But if they mistakenly used my sample to fertilize Marissa’s eggs… She could be pregnant. With my baby. Then the hard reality hits; I’ll have no rights. Will I? Where do I stand from a legal viewpoint? Will I have any say in the baby’s life? Can I be recognized as the father? But then mostly, unbridled joy takes over. I could have another child. Nora could have a sibling. And Marissa…
My gaze darts back to her, but she’s just staring uncomprehendingly at Dr. Quinn with her mouth slightly ajar.
I look back to my boss. “How?”
“The doctor-patient conflict form and donor selection form have a very similar… uh… formatting. We believe the technician mistook the conflict form for the donor one, and that’s why they used your sample. You’re new here, Dr. Raikes, they probably didn’t recognize your name.”
I dare another side glance at Marissa.
She blinks. “Excuse me, what?”
A vein pulses in Dr. Quinn’s temple. “I’m sorry, I’m still stunned myself. A human error in the lab. But as a result, you might”—he pauses, swallows, dabbing sweat off his lip with a handkerchief—“as of this moment, be pregnant with Dr. Raikes’ baby.”
21
MARISSA
I hear the words. I do. But I can’t make sense of them.
Did he say pregnant? With Johnny Raikes’ baby?
My heart skips a beat and my stomach lurches as nausea rises in my throat.
“No, that’s not possible.” I shake my head as a smile fast-approaching hysterical pulls at my lips. “There must be a mistake.”
