Page 41 of Auctioned to Dr. Daddy

Pink.

That means it’s real.

I’m pregnant, and the nausea has been morning sickness. I let Nathan Stone knock me up.

And… And I’m going to be a horrible mother. That tiny little soft person reliant on me? The thought is terrifying.

“Oh,” says Lori, startled. “Don’t do that!”

She curls her arms around my shoulders and pulls me close to her, holding me in a hug. I wrap my arms around her middle and cry on her shoulder.

I want my own mother. Losing a parent is the sort of ache that never goes away. It wells up inside of me right now like a desperate thing.

I want to be held by my own mother. I want her to tell me that everything is going to be alright, that there’s nothing to worry about.

But the most that I have is Lori Lockwood, who I’ve never met before, and Nathan.

He’s already got a kid. And we’ve never finished our conversation about how official we even wanted to be!

I whimper, “What am I going to do?”

“Well, right now you’re going to come sit down and have a cookie,” says Lori, ushering me out of the bathroom and back into the pediatric room. It’s covered in bright colors, meant to soothe the younger patients that Lori normally works on.

She tosses the tester into the trash bin, washes her hands, and briefly vanishes. When she comes back, she has a cookie, a lollipop, and a sticker in hand.

I let out a watery laugh. “Thank you.” I take the cookie, and she sits the other two items on my lap. “I’m sorry. When I saw you, I realized that had to be it.”

“No apologies.” She pulls her stool over and sits down next to me. “Here’s the deal, Miss Winters. I’m going to let you sit in here until you finish your cookie and dry your eyes. Then you will go home with a bout of stomach flu.”

“But—”

Lori tuts at me. “Doctor’s orders. You don’t have to stay away long. Twenty-four hours, just until you’re able to sort the mess in your head out. Trust me, I know how a pregnancy can hit you. You need to be in your own house and your own bed.”

I give a small nod. “Okay.”

“And then in twenty-four hours, you're going to find someone and talk to them about this,’ says Lori, firmly. “It doesn’t have to be the father. If you can’t think of a friend, you can call me.”

Josie and Carter instantly spring to mind. I give another relieved nod, finish taking her instructions on getting someone to help me with the prenatal care, and then I’m ushered out of the room so she can go deal with the ten-year-old that managed to break her wrist trying to climb a tree in this storm.

I shoot Nathan a text to let him know the false diagnosis. Guilt crawls up my spine like a many-legged thing. Nathan was so worried about me, and here I am lying to him!

I just can’t tell him the truth right now.

Grabbing my bag, I head to the lobby and make my way through the double set of sliding doors, out into the overhang. The wind is blowing so hard that the overhang might as well not exist. I can’t hear my own heart beating through the crash of the rain.

Grateful that I took Nathan’s advice and got new tires put on, I run through the parking lot toward the car.

It takes less than a minute and a half, and I’m still soaked by the time I get there and throw myself behind the wheel. I get the heat cranked up high, not wanting to catch a chill and come down with a real cold, and then flip on the windshield wipers.

Carefully, I back out. This is the worst kind of weather to drive in. I have to pull over four times on the way to Apple Green, once to let an ambulance pass, twice because the rain picks up and I can’t see to drive, and the last time because I’m just so worked up and stressed that I need a break.

I’ve never been happier to see the sign for the farm come into view. The back-to-back long shifts and the most startling doctor’s appointment of my life herd me into the house. I’m halfway through getting out the bottle of sweet peach wine from the back of the fridge when I realize that I can’t drink anymore.

My mouth is dry. I put on coffee instead and head for a shower. It feels like I’m wading through a pool of molasses. Each step has me dragging my feet a little bit more. The warm water helps a little bit but at the end of the day, there are a few facts that I can’t just wash down the drain.

One: I have no idea if Nathan’s looking for something as serious as having another kid when he’s just come out of a nasty divorce.

Two: I don’t think that I’m going to be a good mother in the slightest; between my work hours, my time-intensive hobby here at the farm, and the fact that it scares me. Being in charge of a whole person. The risk of leaving them, the same way my mother left me.

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