Page 1 of The Grumpy Doc's Surprise Delivery

CHAPTER 1

EMMA

Phoebe clutches her belly as she bursts out laughing. “Oh, my God!” she giggles, and I place my hand on her shoulder.

“Careful,” I say. “I don’t want you to pop out that baby too early.”

She grins at me. “I’m not worried. This little one’s going to see out the whole term. I’m sure of it.” She pats her pregnant belly to drive her point home.

“And what medical advice is that opinion formed from?”

Phoebe rolls her eyes. “How many times? You don’t have to worry about me, Emma. I’m doing totally fine. You said it yourself.”

“Yes, but I’m also not your ob-gyn. I’m not anyone’s ob-gyn. There could be things I’m missing.”

“But you are a doctor, and you are my best friend. You know that I trust you more than anything. So I’m asking you to just trust me. Okay? I’m fine. The baby is fine. A little bit of laughter won’t hurt.”

“Okay,” I say with a sigh. She’s probably right. I probably am being too overprotective. But how am I supposed to do anything but worry when I’m the only one here to look after her? “I just want to look out for you. That’s all.”

She stares at me firmly. “Tom is coming back from Germany a week from Tuesday, and then he’s going to be home for three whole days. Plus, my mother’s taking me out for some sort of shopping trip next week. And his mother wants to help me start planning preschool and kindergarten. The baby’s not even born yet!”

I chuckle. “I’m sorry. I know you can do it. I would just never forgive myself if anything happened to you while I’m away.”

“Thank you for the concern,” she says. “But you deserve to have some fun. I won’t have you back out of that training course on my watch.”

“You know I’d prefer to be working.”

Phoebe shakes her head, her short hair catching in the summer breeze as we walk around the park. We’ve been best friends since college, and ours is a friendship I treasure. Although she’s a lawyer, and I’m a doctor, we are both career women who believe in excellence. “It’s great that the hospital nominated you for it. And it’s inSaint Lucia, of all places. I can’t believe you’re thinking of turning down a trip to the Caribbean!”

“Well… yeah,” I say, not sure what else there istosay. She’s been acting like this ever since I told her about the training course I’ve been invited to, and she’s refusing to accept the possibility that I might not go because of her.

Not to mention that I’d have to take time off work, and though it would be a work trip and I’d still get paid, I’d feel bad about mypatients. How can I drop everything for a week for the sake of a vacation?

“I’m not listening to you anymore,” says Phoebe, folding her arms. “You have to go. No questions, no arguments.”

“But…” I start. “What about you?”

She rolls her eyes again as we walk in the afternoon sunshine. It’s become a tradition at this point to make time on a Saturday to go for a walk in the park near Phoebe’s house. We started when she first got pregnant, and I doubt we’ll ever stop now. After all, she’s going to have a baby to take on outings, and she’ll want the company.

“You can’t back out on my account,” she says firmly, in the kind of way that makes it impossible to argue with. “I can fend for myself. Being pregnant hasn’t changed who I am. It’s just made me fatter.”

“You know as well as I do that being pregnant doesn’t make you fat.”

She shrugs. “Tell that to this.” She points at her belly and scrunches up her nose to prove the point. She’s six months along, and her bump is undeniable now. “And they’re paying your expenses?”

I nod. The more we talk about it, the more it seems like a really dumb idea not to go.

Phoebe grabs my hands and stares into my eyes. “I’m not joking, Emma. If you’re going to stand here and refuse, I’m going to call your work and tell them that you’re signing up anyway. There is no way I’m letting you miss out on a fully funded trip to the Caribbean just because you’re too proud to leave me.”

“I am not,” I scoff, but it’s a lie and we both know it.

“You deserve a break, Emma,” she says, softening. “When was the last time you had a vacation?”

“Um…” is all I can manage, because the truth is, I can’t remember. I hardly ever even have sick days, let alone days off for vacation. Hell, last year, I won the award for fewest days off, fewest total hours missed. Sure, some people say it’s good to have time off, to rest, but I take pride in my work. I’d be bored without it.

“This is why you’ve never met any men,” she says coolly.

I frown. “That’s not true.”

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