Page 50 of The Fake Family Deal

My name gets called and I’m shown through into the appointment room. It’s a light-blue room with tall ceilings, a huge window, and some generic pictures of people smiling on the wall. I wonder how much say Dr. Chenka has in decorating her own office. I wonder if any of this was anything she wanted.

It speaks of a friendly, kind woman, and that impression is matched by the smile she gives me as our eyes meet. “Marina?” she asks warmly, gesturing for me to take a seat.

“That’s me,” I say as I slump down into the chair.

“Welcome. My name is Dr. Chenka. How can I help?”

I sigh. “I’ve had this nausea for about a week now that just won’t go away. I’m worried it’s symptomatic of something a lot worse. I have a baby girl at home, and she really needs me to not be sick.”

“I understand,” says Dr. Chenka. She’s an older woman with laughter lines and deep crow’s feet, and the kind of smile that tells me she believes every word I’m saying. Already, I trust her completely.

Dr. Chenka takes my medical history, and when she asks me about my sexual activity, I blush. I’m sure she must recognize me, because everyone seems to, but she makes no comment on me being single. “There was a guy,” I say, knowing my timeline is going to give me dead away. “About a month and a half ago now. But we used condoms every time.”

Dr. Chenka nods, noting that down on her computer. “Are you on any other types of birth control?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t really get out much, and my period has never been bad, fortunately.”

“Thank you,” she says, making another note. She says nothing for a while, spending some time typing, her brow creasing as she completes her documentation.

My palms start to sweat. What can be taking her so long to write? This is starting to feel like all this is a setup for a really nasty joke, and I’m certain I’m going to be the punchline.

Without explaining, Dr. Chenka moves on. She takes a blood sample and asks me for a urine sample as well. I don’t want to question her motives, because I’m sure she has way more medical knowledge than I do, but as I sit in the bathroom stall trying not to feel queasy again, the question of why I’m doing this hangs heavy over me.

By the time I leave the office, I’m more confused than ever. Dr. Chenka recommended some more remedies for me, but she didn’t really give me anything conclusive. Instead, she booked me in for an appointment next week and told me to let her know if anything changes.

I head home with a sickening feeling of dread in my body, and almost as soon as I’ve taken my shoes off, my phone starts ringing.

Scrambling, I pick it up, not entirely surprised to see that it’s the doctor’s office. I answer it with shaking hands. “Hello?”

“Hello, Marina?”

“That’s me. Everything okay?”

Dr. Chenka takes a deep breath down the phone. I wonder how many times she’s had to deliver news to people before. I wonder if it ever gets any easier. “Yes, your results are very positive overall. You’re looking very healthy.”

I sigh in relief. “That’s great, then.”

“But,” she says, and my blood runs cold. “There is one thing you should be aware of.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Marina. You’re pregnant.”

CHAPTER 25

ELLIS

“Here’s to Beautiful Baby!”

“To Beautiful Baby,” my friends chorus. I smile thinly at them all, raising my champagne glass languidly in a toast.

I thought that maybe inviting some people over would help fill the emptiness inside me, but it hasn’t. These people aren’t really my friends. These are people in business — accountants and lawyers; people who have artificially whitened teeth and highly manicured nails and who would fall into bed with anyone if it would give them an advantage.

I had my chef prepare the finest meal for us and ordered in the most expensive champagne I could find, and all these people are sitting back laughing, congratulating me on the success of the app, telling me how wonderful it is that it’s doing almost even better than Beautiful Fitness,telling me that I could have a whole little app empire if I tried. It’s decadence beyond belief.

It felt like a good idea when I planned it, but now that I’m here, it’s sickening.

Everyone keeps asking me what I’m going to work on next, too. I’m trying to keep an air of calm, a sort of easygoing attitude that says,oh, you know, I’ve got projects in the works.But that’s a lie. I don’t have any ideas. The thought of creating another soulless app for petty cash fills me with a numbness like I’ve never felt before.

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