Page 112 of Oblivion

“I knew I should have waited for Dr. Harris to be available. I don’t even know who this quack is, and I let him touch you.I let him make you sick,” he snarls, fire and fury evident in his expression.

“Evan, baby, I always feel like I’m going to puke when I have blood drawn. The doctor didn’t do anything wrong. You need to calm down.” Grabbing his hand, I tug him to me, cupping his cheeks with my palms. “I’m fine. You’re overreacting,” I whisper in my most placating tone.

“Here you go, Mrs. Morris. Drink this. It should stop your nausea. Are you feeling faint at all? I’m going to check your blood pressure again, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

Evan grumbles under his breath the entire time the doctor fusses over me, then visibly sags in relief when Dr. Singh says my blood pressure is fine.

“How’s the nausea?” the doctor asks.

“Gone, thank you. I feel fine now,” I assure him, smiling as I slip off the table.

“Okay. Well, I’ll leave you to get dressed, and I’ll call you with the results of your blood work as soon as I have them.”

“Thank you, Dr. Singh. It was nice to meet you,” I say, being overly polite to counteract the way Evan is scowling at him from beside me.

With a nod, the doctor leaves, and ignoring Evan’s displeasure, I quickly get dressed.

“Come here. I’ll carry you,” Evan says, striding to me with a determined expression on his face.

“You are not carrying me.” I laugh, lifting my hands up to ward him away. “I’m fine.”

“Take my hand then. I don’t want you to fall,” he grumbles.

Smiling and giggling to myself, I take his hand and let him lead me out of the office.

“Have you heard from Dr. Singh yet?” Evan asks when he meets me outside my class the following day.

“No, but I also didn’t give them my number. Did you give it to them?”

“Oh, fuck. No, I guess I didn’t. Should we call them?” he asks, sounding oddly excited.

“I’m sure they’ll call you if there’s something we need to know,” I say, shrugging him off. “Dr. Singh said he didn’t think there would be anything to worry about.”

“So, let’s call and confirm that,” Evan says insistently.

“Fine. I’ll call once we get back to the house.”

The cart ride back across campus is fast, and when we walk into the house, instead of heading for the kitchen, Evan tugs me into the den, closing the door behind us. “Here, I’ll call,” he says, pulling his cell from his pocket and quickly dialing the number.

“I could have called,” I say, arching a brow at him. “Are you worried there’s something wrong with me? You’re acting kind of weird.”

“Of course not,” he denies, tapping at his screen and putting the call onto speaker.

“Harris and Singh, doctor’s office. How may I direct your call?” a perky receptionist answers.

“Hi, this is Evan Morris. We were expecting Dr. Singh to call us with the results of my wife’s blood work this afternoon, but we just realized we don’t think you have her cell number.”

“Let me see if Dr. Singh is available. Please hold the line.”

Hold music plays through the speakers for a moment before it abruptly stops, and Dr. Singh’s voice replaces it. “Mr. Morris, I’m glad you called. I should have checked yesterday because wedon’t have a contact number on file for your wife. Is she with you? I have her test results here.”

“Yes, I’m here,” I say.

“Perfect. I’m happy to inform you that all of your blood work came back as normal, except for one test that we did as a precaution. Mrs. Morris…” He pauses, and my heart races. “You’re pregnant. Around two to three weeks, judging by your hCG levels.”

“I’m what?” I splutter.

“Pregnant, Mrs. Morris. Obviously, it’s very early, and a lot of things can happen. But congratulations. You’re going to have a baby.”

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