Page 9 of Calamity Rayne Knocked Up

The doctor continued to talk about information I needed to grab at the front desk but I was done listening. I stared at the brochure, wondering why it was in my hand if we still had ‘a ways’ to go and more to ‘thoroughlyevaluate.’ Then the door closed and I wanted to cry.

It seemed like as safe a time as any. Hale wasn’t here, and I was alone. Just me and my empty eggs.

I sniffled, and a tear fell from my eye, forming a blotch on the brochure where the happy couple held an infant. I had no idea how long I sat there, but it felt like years before I was dressed, packed up, and collecting my appointment card and scripts from the front desk.

On the drive home, I was numb. No recollection of traffic or even parking my car when I reached the office.

I filled my arms with the reports I needed to return to Remington and tried to compartmentalize my professional life from my personal drama.

“Hello, Rayne,” Miles greeted in his chipper British accent as he entered the elevator. “I haven’t seen you all morning.”

“What?”

“I said, I haven’t seen you. Is everything okay?” He pressed the button for the top floor.

“Oh, I had an appointmentthis morning.”

“Well, lucky you. He’s in quite a mood today. Stocks plummeted and he’s been on a rampage. Something to do with a bill the senate just passed…”

Miles continued to update me in his eloquent, matter-of-fact way, but I couldn’t hear a single word over the ringing in my ears.

What senate bill was he talking about? Was it another one that went after women’s rights? What if we wound up needing IVF, but by the time we figured that out, some dickface part of the patriarchy took away that option?

In addition to everything else, I now felt a crushing sense of urgency. My mind started to panic, so I beelined toward Remington’s office the moment the elevator doors opened.

“Uh, Rayne, he asked not to be disturbed,” Miles warned, but I needed some sound advice.

Sophie, the newest receptionist whom I was pretty sure was sleeping with or trying to sleep with Remington, sputtered as I walked past. I didn’t bother with appointments. I was Remington’s right hand and daughter-in-law. We were family, so I marched right into his executive, corner office and shut the door.

“Ever hear of knocking, Meyers?”

I plopped into the club chair across from his enormous desk and slouched dramatically like a broken doll. “I’m barren.”

His bushy white brows furrowed. “Start over.”

I rummaged through my bag and withdrew the sad little brochure, tossing the crumpled paper onto his desk. “I went to the doctor this morning, and they want to run more tests.”

“Run more tests, meaning they haven’t concluded anything yet?”

“Well, no, there’s nothing since my initial labs. But something’s gotta be wrong, Remington. We’ve been at it for months!”

He set the brochure aside and glanced at his watch, debating the time. “Sometimes these things take time.”

“It’s been over a year. What if it just doesn’t happen for us?”

“Nonsense. Hale’s a Davenport. We have strong swimmers and a potent bloodline.”

“But what about me?”

I was a Meyers. We didn’t have a potent bloodline. Ours was instead a weak line of runaway men and commitment-phobic women. There were a lot of childless relativesin my gene pool, now that I thought about it. Even I was an only child.

My mom had to have a sex life after my father, right? He left when I was a little kid. Yet, I never had any siblings.

“I’m sure you’re fine, Meyers. You’re young and healthy. For once, don’t overcomplicate something simple. Just keep at it in the bedroom, and eventually, you’ll wind up in a nursery.”

He moved to the wet bar in the corner of his office and cursed. Returning to the desk, he stabbed a finger into the telephone and buzzed the secretary.

“Sophie, where the hell are the glasses?”

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