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With that, Tommy stood abruptly and left the room.
If Dr. Whitley was surprised by his reaction, she didn’t show it. She leveled an appraising glance at her remaining audience and continued.
“There was no presence of semen, but we ran the full STD battery regardless. I should have the results by tomorrow.” Then, she brightened slightly. “I also conducted a full obstetrical exam including ultrasound, and I can assure you that the baby is perfectly healthy.”
My heart stopped.
You could have heard a pin drop.
I felt Sloane looking at me. It felt like everyone was looking at me, but my brain had seized along with my heart, and I was currently incapable of coherent thought.
Baby. The baby. Is okay. Perfectly healthy.
“How far along?” Sloane asked quietly.
Dr. Whitley frowned. “You didn’t know?”
“No,” I whispered.
A long silence.
“Eight weeks.”
Eight weeks. That’s…Maine. She’s been pregnant ever since…oh, god.
Eight weeks pregnant.
Three words. Three little words with such an exquisite duplicity. I wanted to weep with joy, to take Cassidy in my arms and kiss her senseless, and at the same time, I wanted to scream in horror. It felt like my heart was being squeezed in a vice, and it was getting hard to breathe.
“I want to see her,” I blurted. Suddenly, I was on my feet. “I need to see her. Please.”
The two doctors looked at each other. “Okay, we can take you up. She’s sedated, though."
“I don’t care. Just take me up there. Please.”
Sloane's hand was on my arm. “Connor, do you want me to come with you?”
“No. Not yet. I’ll be okay. I just need to see her.”
“Okay. Okay. I should probably go check on Tommy and tell him the news.” Even Sloane seemed unsure of how to react to Dr. Whitley’s announcement. She warily watched her me as I followed the doctors down the hall and into the elevator.
The ride up was a little awkward, both doctors realizing that nobody had known about the baby and they had inadvertently told the entire family. Jerome shifted uncomfortably. “She’ll probably be in and out of it for a few days, but once she’s lucid enough we’ll need to discuss physical therapy.”
“Okay.” I felt numb.
Dr. Whitley turned to me. “Mr. McTiernan, with your permission I’d also like to send my colleague by. Her name is Dr. Julianne Long, and she’s a therapist that specializes in rape recovery.”
"Okay." Now I just felt sick.
“I know this is a lot to handle right now,” she said gently, “but I think it would be beneficial for you both to talk with her.”
Somehow, I found the strength to voice something more than noncommittal grunts. “Okay, yeah. Yes. That sounds good, um, thank you.”
Grady was posted outside Cassidy's room. The bodyguard carefully avoided his eyes, and for that, I was grateful. I was vulnerable, I was hurting, and I was absolutely terrified to walk though those doors.
And the worst part of it was, I felt selfish. I felt selfish for feeling that way, to admit my vulnerability and my hurt and my fear when I should be able to swallow it down and be strong for her. Because whatever I was feeling was nothing compared to what she’d gone through.
You better get your shit together, right the fuck now. That’s your pregnant wife in there, and she needs you.
