Page 31 of Calamity Rayne Knocked Up

An hour later, we were sitting in a sterile, Ikea-style waiting room. The place smelled of opposition, mixed levels of hope, and privilege. I wouldn’t exactly call it welcoming orhomey. There was a super-enlarged baby poster on the wall. What did it say about me if I found that kind of closeup creepy?

Elara could totally be a model. She was way cuter than any of the kids plastered on the walls here.

“Mr. and Mrs. Davenport?”

Hale stood and took my hand, raising a brow when he felt how clammy my fingers were. I don’t know why I was so nervous.

What was wrong with my doctor at home? Sure, he was about a decade past retirement, and his bedside manner had room for improvement, but these New York doctors intimidated me.

“Dr. Seacrest is waiting for you,” the nurse said, directing us toward a scale. “I just need both your weights and a quick urine sample from Mrs. Davenport.”

That was easy enough with my nervous bladder. I accepted the cup while Hale got on the scale. His weight never fluctuated more than half a pound. Mine, on the other hand, yo-yoed all over the place on a weekly basis.

The one time I needed to pee in a straight stream urine came spraying out of me like a sprinkler. After washing my hands and tightening the lid over a few salvageable dropsof urine, I returned to the hall. The nurse took the cup and instructed me to step on the scale.

I glared over my shoulder at Hale. “Turn around.”

He pivoted, and I read the scale. Yikes. That was quite a few pounds higher than I was used to weighing. “Are you sure this is right?”

Hale laughed, and I glanced down to find his foot on the corner of the scale.

I smacked his shoulder. “Jerk!”

When he lifted his foot, the scale settled back to my usual weight -- plus ten. Which was normal. I guess.

“Perfect. Come with me.” The nurse led us into an office rather than a patient room, and a beautiful woman with dark, curly hair rose from behind a white veneer desk.

“Mr. and Mrs. Davenport, welcome to Blossom Fertility.” She shook both of our hands, and we sat.

To stop from fidgeting, I buried my hands in my lap. This place looked more like a med spa than a doctor’s office.

“I’ve gone over your medical history and the good news is, so far, everything looks great.”

“It does?” How did she get our medical history?

Dr. Seacrest nodded. “Your recent tests show no red flags, and we’re at a good place to dig a little deeper. I want to conduct a personal interview with the two of you so that we can fill in some missing information your other doctors might not have considered collecting. Do you mind if we get started?”

Hale nodded his consent, and she opened a slim laptop, her focus moving to the screen.

“How frequently do you have intercourse?”

“Daily.”

I gaped at him. “We do it pretty frequently when Hale's around, but he travels a lot.”

“Would you agree that you have daily intercourse on the days he’s home?”

I don’t know why I was suddenly embarrassed, but we sounded like whores. “Yes?” I leaned forward and explained, “We’re newlyweds.”

Were we still newlyweds? It had been over a year since the wedding. Did other couples have sex as often as we did?

“And how often do youtravel, Hale?”

“Weekly. I’m usually away on business for half the week.”

“And…” She clicked her mouse. “You have a daughter?”

“Yes.”

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