Page 27 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

“Possibly a good thing,” I repeat, dryly. “Has anyone told you that you suck at delivering news to patients?”

Dr. Joyce shrugs. “Only once or twice.”

“Let me be the third person to say it, then. You suck at delivering news,” I tell him. “Come on, what did the results show.”

“You aren’t sick,” says Dr. Joyce. “But you are expecting.”

A pause. The word doesn’t actually click with me right away. “Expecting what?” And then I realize what he means, and mortification washes over me. I slam my hand to my mouth. “Oh my God, are you telling me that I’m pregnant?”

Dr. Joyce nods, just once. He looks no less nervous than he did when he first came in. “Like I said, possibly a good thing, but you can never be too certain.”

The words feel like a wrecking ball to the chest. Of course I’m pregnant. Ofcourse.

Hands drop down to my stomach. “I should have guessed that. It’s not a flu. It's not a mineral deficiency. I’ve had morning sickness!”

My cheeks are hot, first with embarrassment, and then with nerves. I bury my face in my hands.

“And pickle juice is a common craving among pregnant women,” says Dr. Joyce. “I know that this must be a shock. Is there… someone that you want called?”

“No,” I say too fast. The thought of Jackson finding out when I don’t even have my head on straight is totally out of the question. My cheeks are still bright red. Sliding off the table, I grab my purse and sling the strap of it back over my shoulder. “Barry, you can’t say anything.”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” he says, with a nod of his head.

I hurry over to him, grabbing hold of his hand. “No, Barry, you don’t understand. You can’t sayanything. Not the residents or the nurses or the other doctors. As far as anyone is concerned, you did the blood test, and you found nothing.”

Dr. Joyce asks, “Are you alright, Amanda? You aren’t—”

“Don’t even ask me if I’m in trouble, we both know that’s not it. I just can’t have the father finding out about this from someone else,” I say, firmly. That pretty much spills the beans that I’ve been sleeping with someone else that works at the hospital, but it’s fine.

I know Barry pretty well. If I ask him not to tell anyone, I can trust that he won’t.

And just like I expect, he nods his head and tells me, “My lips are sealed.” He even goes so far as to mime zipping his lips shut. “I won’t say anything to anyone. But you have to promise me something, too.”

“What?” I can’t keep the hesitancy out of my voice.

He waves a hand at me. “It’s nothing bad. Just promise me that you’re going to try and take it a little easier. Being pregnant is hard on the body, and we all know how much time you spend working.”

“I can’t slack off on my research,” I say. Harris isalwaysmy top priority. “That’s important.”

“Your health is important,” says Dr. Joyce. He takes his hand back and puts it on my shoulder. “And so is the health of the baby that you’re carrying.”

He’s right, of course. It’s just too much to think about right now. I promise him that I’ll take care of myself and then make my escape, hurrying through the office and outside, into the parking lot.

I’m grateful that no one is parked right next to my van. That means I can slide into the driver’s seat and leave without having to talk to anyone. I don’t go very far, just to the gas station on the corner of the next street over.

Once I pull in next to the pump, I crumble, almost sagging against the steering wheel. I managed to hold myself together in front of Dr. Joyce, and I got out of the hospital parking lot before I could be caught by anyone else there and pulled into a conversation, but now… All I want to do is collapse into a heap and just turn everything off. The world. My responsibilities. My brain.

Then again, clearly my brain hasn’t been running for a while.

Of course I’m pregnant! Jackson and I haven’t used a condom once, the whole time that we’ve been seeing each other. This shouldn’t be a surprise! We’re both grown adults in the medical profession. We should have at least thought in passing about what the consequences might have been.

Now, I have to think about what the consequences of this totally new problem are going to be.

Am I going to tell Jackson about this? Just the thought is enough to make my palms start sweating and my stomach twist into knots. He’s so work focused, I’m not sure that he’s going towantanother child. Or have the time for one.

I mean, we haven’t even been able to really date properly. Someone is always getting called back into work.

He already struggles with making sure that Bonnie gets the love that she needs. And it goes right back to my thought from yesterday, at the pizza place. We aren’t even together, not really.

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