Page 39 of Books and Hookups

LUCIE

“Is there anything more humiliating than wearing a paper poncho while sitting on a roll of paper? I feel like pork loin at a butcher,” I said.

“I know you’re nervous,” Savannah said, folding my shirt and laying it on top of the other clothes she’d placed on the chair in the exam room, “but early exams are no big deal.”

“Wait. It gets worse than this?” My voice rose into such a high register that it hurt my throat. I swallowed.

She gave me a flat look. “Honey, everyone at this hospital is going to look at your hoo-hah before this is over. Not to mention—hmm. Plenty of time for that later.”

“Not to mentionwhat,Savannah?”

“Have you read The Book yet?”

“Not…not yet. I’m still writing mine, remember?”

She squinted at me. “Or are you putting it off, thinking if you don’t read it, it might not happen?”

“That’s not it.”Quite.“I’ll read The Book and do all the other preparations later, once my manuscript is in a good place. Promise.” Was I promising her or myself? Or the fetus lodged in my uterus?

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” I said, relieved.

A brown-skinned woman no taller than me bustled in. She flashed me a radiant smile. “Hello, Lucie. I’m Dr. Cheema.” When she shook my hand, hers was dry and warm, which made mine feel extra clammy.

Unbothered, she extended her hand to Savannah. “Is this your partner?”

“We’re friends. I’m Savannah,” she said. “I’ll be coming with Lucie to her appointments.”

“Ah. And Dad is…?” Dr. Cheema raised her lush eyebrows, making me wish I hadn’t overplucked mine back in the ’90s.

“Just a…a hookup. And a friend. My neighbor, actually. With benefits. Though that’s over now. In fact, I’m actively avoiding him.” I cringed. Where had allthatcome from? I certainly hadn’t meant to mention the avoiding-him part. But the night he’d brought me dinner and offered to do more haunted my thoughts. His caretaking was dangerous. I couldn’t let myself rely on him. I’d gotten myself into this mess, and I’d see it through.

“Is he the kind of friend who might come to your appointments?” Dr. Cheema asked.

“No.” Sure, he’d seen me naked, but naked and wearing an oversized envelope was something else entirely. And with all the weird pregnancy hormones, I’d gotten hot and bothered over a flippingshoulder massage. It would be too humiliating if I got aroused while I was sitting on a sheet of goddamn paper. “Did you miss the part where I said I’m avoiding him?”

“Okay,” she said, making a note on her tablet with a stylus. “Are you planning to invite him into the delivery room?”

Delivery room? I hadn’t thought that far ahead. My immediate thought wasno way,but that didn’t seem fair to him, considering we planned to co-parent this baby. Would he want to see his child’s birth? “I don’t know.”

She made another note. “You’ve got plenty of time to work out your birth plan.”

I turned wide eyes on Savannah. “Birth plan?” I mouthed.

“Read The Book,” she mouthed back.

Subtly, I gave her the middle finger. She hid her laugh with a cough.

Dr. Cheema looked up. “Do you have questions for me?”

Shit.This felt like a job interview. “Just one. I had a couple sips of wine after I, um…conceived, but before I knew I was pregnant. Do you think the baby’s okay?”

The doctor smiled. “I’m sure the baby is fine. But I recommend you don’t drink alcohol for the rest of your pregnancy.”

“Right.” I nodded. It tasted funny now anyway. Though I missed going to the bar. I loved living alone, but living over a bar was like having a family who didn’t care if you had a little too much and danced on a table, or if you wanted to drink your goddamn drink in a corner and not say anything.

Dr. Cheema checked her tablet. “Is this your first pregnancy?”

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