Page 248 of Vegas Heat

I only wait about a half hour before I’m called back. The medical technician takes my vitals, and she doesn’t say anything, which only serves to drive me crazy.

“Is, uh…is everything okay?” I ask.

“Everything’s looking normal,” she says. “Tell me about your symptoms.”

“I passed out about an hour ago, and it’s the second time in the last couple months that’s happened. I’ve also felt a little off the last few days.”

“Off?” she asks.

I wrinkle my nose as I try to put words to how I’ve been feeling. “Kind of like something’s coming on. I haven’t been sick or anything, I’ve just felt…tired. Maybe a little nauseated, like I’m never hungry but when food is in front of me, I can’t stop eating. I’ve been busy and stressed between work and school, and my dad is getting married tonight, and I just wanted to make sure whatever it is isn’t contagious.”

“Have you had to go to the bathroom a lot?” she asks.

I nod. “I’ve been drinking an abnormal amount of water lately, so I figured that’s why.”

“Any tenderness in your breasts?”

I nod. “Likesosore lately. Usually they get sore around the time my period comes.”

“Regular periods?”

“I started birth control, so I haven’t been having periods at all. I figured that’s why my boobs have been sore, too.”

She clears her throat. “Any chance you might be pregnant?”

“I’m on the pill.” Didn’t I just say that? I shake my head. “So no.”

“Let’s run a test just to make sure.”

I shrug. “Okay. Go for it.”

“The pill isn’t one hundred percent effective,” she says as she pulls some items out of a drawer.

“Right. My doctor told me that. But ninety-nine percent is still pretty good.”

She nods. “It is, but it only reaches that rate when it’s taken correctly.”

My brows knit together defensively as my perfectionism takes over. “I take it correctly. Same time every day.”

She hands me a cup and writes my name on it. “We’ll need a sample in this cup. There’s a bathroom down the hall to the right. There’s a little cabinet on the wall you can leave it in.”

“A sample?” I ask.

“Urine.”

“Right.” My cheeks fill with color, and then I hop off the table and head down the hall to grab mysample.

There’s no way I’m pregnant.

If I was, wouldn’t I know?

When I return to the room, the medical technician is gone. I sit on the table and wait.

It feels like the longest damn wait of my life before I finally hear a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I yell, and a man who looks to be in his late twenties and who might pique my interest if I wasn’t in love with Cooper walks in.

“Well, I’m glad you’re sitting, because I’m here to tell you that you’re pregnant,” he says. He sits on the stool across from the table where I sit, and I’m glad I’m sitting too because what?

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