Page 59 of The Doctor's Simple Life

And everyone saw it.

I cringe, closing my eyes and pulling the sheet up to my chin. I have nothing to distract me, so all I can do is keep running it around in my mind.

At least thinking about fainting is better than thinking about Reece.

Damn, I curse at myself. I shouldn’t have thought that because now I am thinking about him. I bet he’s never fainted at work. I bet he’s gone right back to being Mr. Perfect with his perfect hair and perfect smile and fancy job.

I don’t miss him. I refuse to.

Fortunately, about twenty minutes later, Giselle comes back to free me from my spiraling thoughts.

“Well,” I say as she comes through the door. “Tell me I’m not going to die.”

“Exactly the opposite.” She grins.

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

She comes to sit beside me and takes my hand, which does nothing to ease the terror that she’s about to tell me I have something terminal and bad. “Sienna,” she says gently, squeezing my hand. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’ve been blessed. You’re going to have a baby.”

“I’m what?”

“You’re pregnant, Sienna.”

My mouth drops open, and, not sure what else to do, I burst into tears. Of all the things I thought she was about to say, a baby was way, way down on the list.

And I know exactly whose it must be.

And so does she.

“Are you going to tell him?” Giselle asks once I’ve caught my breath.

I shake my head. Then I nod. Then I slap my hands against my face and groan. “I don’t know. Yes, probably. I have to, really, don’t I?”

“No,” she says, and I chuckle. That’s Giselle, as straightforward as ever.

“We were careful,” I whisper. “We used protection.”

“These things aren’t foolproof. You know that. Mistakes happen.”

“This is a pretty big mistake.” But even as I say it, I don’t believe it. Any baby of mine could never be a mistake, no matter how it happened. Reece might have been a mistake, but my baby? My baby will be loved and looked after like they are precious, because they will be.

A baby has always been part of my life plan.

Being a single mother though… that’s something I’m going to have to adjust to.

“I’ll tell him later,” I say. “It’s not like he’s going to care.”

“But he should know,” Giselle says gently.

“I know,” I whisper.

What I don’t tell her is that I’m still furious with him. I’m mad at him for leaving. I’m mad at him for lying. I’m mad at him for crawling right back to his old boss and acting like nothing was different, then treating me like I was the problem for refusing to play along.

I’m mad at him for making me fall in love with him.

Without him here, somehow it’s easier to confess that to myself. And until today, I thought I would never have to face admitting it out loud to anyone, especially not him. But with the baby, with him being a father — I don’t know if I’m strong enough to tell him that without yelling at him.

Or worse, without blurting out a confession I don’t want to make.

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