Page 127 of Ivory Oath

If everything goes well, I think.

I was up late last night Googling the stats on miscarriage before eight weeks, just because I love throwing gas on the raging flames of my anxiety, I guess. A not-insignificant part of me is positive the doctor is going to impale me on that ice-cold internal probe for nothing.

This will be another false positive. Another disappointment.

The only thing that kept me from calling off the appointment and locking myself in the bathroom was the thought that, if the worst happens, I’d be able to reach over and squeeze Mikhail’s hand. When the negative thoughts rose to the surface, he’d be there to keep me grounded.

Apparently not.

“He knows.” Raoul tips his head towards the garage door. “Are you ready?”

I grimace and nod. Something tells me Raoul won’t be holding my hand.

The ride to the doctor’s office is silent and tense. Raoul and I have never been the chattiest. I don’t think spending forty minutes badmouthing his boss would change that, so silence is the safest choice.

I’m actually determined to be miserable and have the worst possible time, only because I know Raoul is logging every single emotion on my face and will report it all back to Mikhail. Then I walk into the office of Dr. Rossi.

“You must be Viviana!” He grins at me under an impressively thick mustache. “My newest VIP.”

I can’t help but return his smile. “VIP?”

“Very Important Patient,” he explains with a cartoonishly salacious wink. “Your husband is a delightful, terrifying man. He made me swear to take good care of you. Several times.”

“That sounds like Mikhail.”

“Of course, I would have taken care of you even without the threats because I am very good at my job.” He says it in a way that doesn’t sound like bragging. I just… trust him.

It’s a nice feeling to have towards your doctor, especially when he lifts my thin exam gown ten minutes later and starts brandishing the internal ultrasound wand for my exam.

I’m staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pressure between my legs and the black square of the screen to my right. Not to mention the swirling black hole of dread yawning open in my stomach. Dr. Rossi can probably pick up my anxiety in the ultrasound.

Maybe that’s why he lays a hand on my knee. “Easy there, Viviana. Everything will be alright.”

I love him.

Sure, he’s in his early seventies and his office is littered with photos of his wife and five kids, but I’m not deterred so long as he isn’t. I need someone right now and this man is all I’ve got.

“I know these exams can be nerve-wracking, but you have nothing to worry about.”

“How do you know that?”

He smiles and turns the screen to face me. “Because I’m looking at your baby right now. Why don’t you join me?”

I turn and my heart stops. The world stops. Every dark, angry, anxious thought in my head disappears.

“That’s my baby,” I breathe. It looks like a little gummy bear on the screen. Nubby legs and arms, no neck in sight. “It’s beautiful.”

“I agree,” Dr. Rossi says proudly. “Absolutely gorgeous. Especially that heartbeat. Strong as an ox, eh?”

He isolates the flickering white speck on the screen and a crackly whoosh-whoosh fills the room.

“So, the baby is…” There? Real? I’m not sure how to finish the sentence. I’m afraid if I do, this will all disappear.

“Perfectly healthy,” Dr. Rossi finishes for me. He clicks around on the screen, taking pictures. A small printer to the side spits out the black-and-white images. “Cute as a button, too. I can tell. I have a knack for this kind of thing.”

I laugh and it feels like a sigh of relief.

I just wish Mikhail was here to feel it with me.

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