Dr. Singh makes a sound on the back of her throat that has me turning in her direction. “Did it show something?”
She washes her hands, and her smile is soft as she comes back to me. That eases some of the tension in my chest.She wouldn’t smile if I was dying, right?
“Well, it’s not a virus.” She takes a seat on the stool next to the table, clutching the stethoscope around her neck.
“It’s not? So what is it?”
“Well,” Dr. Singh smiles, “you’re… pregnant.”
What. The. Fuck.
FOUR
LEXI
I blink.Then I blink again. “But that’s not possible. I’m covered.”
Dr. Singh taps a finger over her lips. “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes IUDs can migrate out of the uterus. If you’re having rough sex, they can even come out.”
I’m pretty sure my face is on fucking fire right now. Casey screws me like he’s possessed. He’s probably fucked my birth control into my chest.
“Have you had any bleeding or abdominal pain?”
“No. Nothing like that.” My mind is spinning. I grip the edge of the table until my fingers hurt. “I’m really pregnant?”
Her expression softens. “Yes. I’d still like to do bloods, and an ultrasound. We’ll need to check if your IUD is somewhere it shouldn’t be.”
Like on the clubhouse garage floor…
Fuck my life.
“I’ve drunk alcohol. I’ve eaten bad things. I streamline caffeine like it’s a lifeline. I’ve—”Had more sex than I can admit to without sounding like a nymphomaniac.
“Well, that’s not ideal, but let’s just focus on good habits going forward.”
Dr. Singh takes my blood, runs a few more tests and sends me on my way with an appointment for an ultrasound in two days’ time.
I walk back to work in a daze, my mind rebelling at the idea that there’s life growing inside me.
Life that shouldn’t be there.
I don’t know how Casey’s going to react to this. He likes control. Needs it.
And I’m about to shatter that.
I have no idea how I get through the rest of the afternoon.
After the presentation, I head into the break room, my brain spiraling with a thousand thoughts. I have to tell Casey, of course, but how? And when? Maybe I should wait until the bloods come back…
Maybe I should?—
A hand slides around my waist, and I stiffen as his sickly cologne fills my nose. James reaches for the coffeepot, and that touch disappears as if I imagined it.
Except I didn’t.
Because I can still feel his hand ghosting along my hip.
“You did well in the presentation,” he says. “I would suggest, though, that next time, make sure you’re not fiddling so much with your paperwork. We don’t want to look unprofessional, do we?”
