Page 21 of Stirred Up

Not to mention, that’d be asking for help and he made it perfectly clear he’s just waiting for the chance to throwthatin my face.

No, I’ll go home, have some brown-bag wine and a hot bath and face this tomorrow like the independent adult that I am.

“Jennifer,” I call to the other tech as I gather my things, “I have to leave for the day and I’ll be late tomorrow. I’ve got an emergency appointment that can’t be helped.”

She comes in the room, concern lining her eyes and brow. “Is everything okay? Can I do anything?”

“Thanks, Jen, that’s sweet of you. Can you hold down the fort here and let the others know?” I smile hopefully. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Once out of the building, I inhale a lungful of fresh air and trudge straight to my car. I can’t drive home fast enough, deadbolting the door, turning on some Miles Davis and opening the wine as I head to the bathtub.

So done with this day.

Maybe I’m delirious with fear about my results ormaybe I’m actually deranged and badly in need of an alignment to my priorities, because in spite of it all, one lingering thought induces a shiver…

I’m headed back to see Dr. Reynolds.

Chapter 8

Again with the paper robe? Why even pretend? We all know I’m as good as naked minus my favorite pair of smooching frog socks snuggling my toes.

There’s no fancy schmancy prep this time; I’m in far too foul a mood. Only a rushed hot shower, one squirt of lavender and a quick leg and pit shave. I did, however, brush my teethtwice, now keenly aware he prefers to be up close and personal with more than just my cha-cha.

Other than that, this is as good as it gets.

I spent all night tossing and turning, anxious about my results, mad I’d missed more work, and positivelydistraught at the current state of affairs with Brady and Dylan.

So when Dr. Reynolds knocks and steps in bearing that charming smile, and dear God wearing the sexiest pair of blue scrubs I’ve ever seen in my life, I almost feel bad for the scowl I’m throwing back.

“Addison,” he regards me, airing on the sign of caution, “how’re you?”

“Not great, Doc, not even close. Kinda wanting to speed things along and go straight for a drink. It’s gotta be five o’clock somewhere, right?”

He glances around, noticeably uncomfortable, before blowing out a long winded breath. Obviously he was expecting the universally acceptable response of, “fine, how are you?”

Not today, sorry, Doc.

“I, um,” he stammers, concentrating on the damn all-knowing chart. “Anything I can do?”

“Ha,” I scoff. Doesn’t matter—doctors, lawyers, trash men, janitors—they’re all stillmen, so they have no clue what to say.

“You could explain my test results. My first ever examwas nerve-wracking enough. Getting a call that my results are,” I air quote, “‘inconclusive,’ well, it scares the shit out of me, quite frankly.”

With that admission, my catty, sniping anger is gone, replaced with a trembling lower lip and watering eyes. “And I couldn’t even call my best friend to get a medical opinion on it, because again, quite frankly, he’s an asshole.”

Another thing all men, any walk of life, have in common—they can’t stand it when a woman starts to cry.

Dr. Reynolds rises from the stool and moves to stand directly in front of me. “Hey, shhh.” He rubs my knee. “Addison, everything will be fine, I promise.”

I wipe my palms down my face, a mess inside and out. “Th-thank you for fitting me in, by the way. I appreciate it.” I sniffle, long past simply feeling vulnerable. “I’m sorry, I’m just overwhelmed, worried, exhausted.” I wave my hand as though “shooing” away the unbearable list. “Anyways, please, can we just get this over with? I need to know what’s going on.”

Head ducked to meet my eyes, his empathic smile soothes me. “Inconclusive means just that. Not good, not bad, not anything. Something made it impossible to get anyresults at all.”

That’s my vagina alright—never getting any results.

“Addison,” he taps the hand still on my knee, bringing me back from thought, “did you by any chance douche before you came in that day?”

Oh dear God, he’d smelt the vinegar!My entire body flushes with morbid embarrassment as I fidget away from him.

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