Page 62 of Cautious

I understand their worry, more so than anyone, given the circumstances. But there is being cautious, and then there is just being crazy overprotective. That’s the category most of the men fall into at the moment. I almost wish Christian would make his move just so this shit could all be over with.

As I wait for the doctor, I sit on the edge of the exam table, swinging my feet. I kill time by reading the numerous posters decorating the room. By the time my doctor walks in, I’ve learned more than I ever needed to know about STDs and how to correctly check for lumps in my boobs.

“Afternoon, Callie. How are you feeling today?” he asks kindly.

In his seventies, Dr. Abbotts has a thin, wiry body and a shock of white hair that makes him look like an eccentric professor from a movie I once saw. He also happens to be permanently upbeat, something I never experienced in the overworked big-city doctors.

“Hey, Doc. I’m actually feeling great. I haven’t thrown up since I was last here, and I finally managed to eat some real food again, thank god. I’ll admit, I was getting pretty salty about not being able to eat a taco without puking it back up.”

“Well, that’s all perfectly normal, given the circumstances. Despite what the books seem to say, morning sickness can, in fact, occur at any time of day. It can also last the entire pregnancy, though most people find it drops off once they hit their second trimester.”

“So, I’m not dying?” That’s good at least.

“No.” He chuckles. “You’re not dying. You’re pregnant.”

“Wait, what? I’m pregnant? Like with a baby?”

He chuckles. “Well, it’s not a goldfish.”

“I don’t understand. I’m on the Depo. I don’t even get periods anymore, so it’s not possible, doc,” I tell him something he should already know.

“Well, the blood test revealed elevated levels of the pregnancy hormone hCG.”

“That can’t be right,” I say nervously, thinking this has to be a mistake.

“You know no method of contraception is a hundred percent effective. Lie back for me for a moment and let me have a feel.”

“That’s what got me into this mess in the first place,” I mutter, but I do as he asks, swinging my legs up onto the bed before lying back and fidgeting around on the scratchy paper until I’m somewhat comfortable.

“Can you pull your jeans down a little for me?” I pop the button and slide them down a touch.

Slipping on a pair of gloves, the doctor offers me a reassuring smile. He stands beside me and moves his hands over my stomach, pressing with his fingers in some spots.

Any minute now, he’ll realize this is all a huge mistake. Any minute now.

“Hmm... any tenderness here?” he asks, pushing down just above my pubic bone.

“Only when you push down like that.” I frown.

“Any other issues than vomiting and being tired?” he asks as he slides the blood pressure cuff up my arm.

“Not that I can think of, but I’m only really just feeling like myself again after recovering from my attack,” I tell him quietly, listening to thepuff, puff, puffnoise as he squeezes the balloon end of the tube.

I spent weeks feeling and looking like a giant bruise. Some parts of me had been sore and tender for months. Thanks to the pulling and clawing, even my hair and nails hurt. Some days, it was a miracle I made it from the bed to the sofa, the short journey between the two wiping me out for the rest of the day.

“Okay, this looks good.” He removes the cuff from my arm and places it down before picking up an electronic thermometer and sticking it in my ear. He waits for the little beeping sound. “Well, this is all good too. And you’re in luck. We have an ultrasound next door, so we can take a look to see what’s going on. Give me a moment to grab it.”

I just lay there in a daze, wondering how the fuck this happened. Well, I know how it happened, but seriously? After the broken condom fiasco, I thought getting the Depo shot was a smart move, but apparently, I got jabbed in the ass for nothing.

The doctor returns with the ultrasound machine, pulling it close to the bed before lifting my top to just under my breasts.

“Can you pull your jeans down a little more?” I wiggle them down to the top of my bikini briefs before the doctor rubs gel across my stomach.

Pressing the wand to my stomach, he moves it around, clicking a button on the machine, before moving it around some more. He’s moving it around so much that I start to relax, realizing he can’t find anything. I must have been right—the test was nothing more than a false positive.

I wait for the relief to rush in, only it doesn’t. I’m not ready for a baby. My life is in chaos, and Blake is busy having to temporarily run his business from home. Adding a baby to the mix would be a stupid idea, and yet... I don’t feel relieved like I should. I feel disappointed and sad. Maybe the timing is all wrong, but the thought of holding a baby with Blake’s eyes looking up at me fills me with an intense longing.

“I…” I open my mouth to speak when a loud, whooshing sound fills the room.

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