Page 83 of I Can't Even

Quaid moved upon my arrival. Wrapping his arm around me, he dropped his mouth to my ear and said, “Ready for this?”

“Ready as I guess I can be,” I admitted.

“So,” Hollis said quietly as we got onto the elevator, “how does it feel to get your actual medication today?”

I burst out laughing.

And poor Quaid’s cheeks went pink. “My ankle feels great.”

I peed in a cup.

I got my weight—which was higher than I expected.

I got naked.

Then Quaid and I sat in the freezing ass cold room for what felt like forever but was really like fifteen minutes.

“You know,” Quaid grumbled as he got up and moved to me. “If they were going to make you wait naked, they could’ve at least given you a blanket.”

He wrapped his arms around me, and I groaned at the heat of his body.

“It’s freezing in here,” I agreed. “And I don’t understand why they would do this when they damn well know that we only have this stupid little paper gown to cover up with.”

Just as I said that the door opened, and a haggard looking redhead filed in, pushing a computer on wheels.

“I’m so, so sorry.” She winced at the sight of us. “I know it’s freezing in here. There’s something wrong with the air. That’s what took so long. I was meeting with the air conditioner guy.”

Quaid didn’t let me go completely, but he did move to the side of the exam table to give me an unobstructed view of the woman who would be up close and personal with my vagina for the next nine months.

“Anyway, I read your chart before I came in,” she looked at Quaid. “Luckily, birth control isn’t toxic for men.”

Quaid’s cheeks again went pink. “I can’t say it was my finest moment.”

The redhead, Dr. Herreros, grinned, then turned to me. She studied my face, took in my appearance, and then said, “You look well. Good news.”

I beamed.

“Let’s give that baby a look,” she said. “Lean back, spread your legs, and get them up in those little stirrups right…” she paused as she hefted the metal contraption into place, “here.”

I did, then scooted all the way down until my butt was hanging over the edge, just like every woman in the world knew how to do.

And before I knew it, things were being shoved up inside of me, and Quaid was looking on as if he’d never seen a thing in the entire world so interesting as a wand being stuck up my hoo-ha by another woman.

“Ahh,” the doctor said. “Here she is.”

“She?” I squeaked.

“Well, generic she,” she said. “It’s still quite a bit early to tell. I’d say you’re about…” She tilted her head. “Whew, for a second there I thought I saw two. But this one’s just moving around like crazy. I’d say you’re about seven weeks.”

Seven weeks.

Nothing in the grand scheme of things.

But still.

I was pregnant.

Whoa.

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