Page 134 of The Savior

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Chelsea and Dr. Nguyen volleyed questions back and forth until they’d landed on a source of the miscommunication. Her discharging doctor had assumed any are-you-pregnant conversations happened before shift change with the previous doctor.

They had not. At least, not that she could remember.

Then Chelsea assured everyone, even the nurse redrawing her blood and asking her to pee in a cup, that it was impossible she could be pregnant. She had already had a once-in-a-lifetime situation happen earlier that day when she learned of a sister during a bomb scare.

Two absurd circumstances clustered so close together had to be categorically, metaphysically, and statistically impossible.

The nurse bounced in and handed the report to Dr. Nguyen, whom Chelsea hadn’t let leave her side, at least for the first test. Apparently, the other took more than two minutes to run.

“You’re pregnant.” Dr. Nguyen went on to explain hCGs and the process of dating conception, but Chelsea couldn’t listen or see straight. “Are you okay?”

Am I okay?Am Iokay?Forget the bomb scare and the vampire attack—she was pregnant.

“Must be,” the nurse said. “Look at the smile on her face.”

Chelsea touched her cheeks and her lips. That was, indeed, what had to be a painfully huge smile. Aside from the shock and having to tell Liam, she realized that the news made her very,veryhappy. Even if it made no sense.

***

“Women’s Care Family practice. Can I help you?”

After calling Liam a hundred times in a row, Chelsea could’ve kissed her ob-gyn’s receptionist for answering the phone. “Hi. I need to speak to my doctor. Dr. Doyle, please.”

“I can take a message and have—”

“Ineedto speak with Dr. Doyle. It’s an emergency.” Maybe that was a little dramatic, but given the day she’d had, she was allowed as much theatrics as she wanted. Besides, Chelsea didn’t have her cell phone. She could only make phone calls on the hospital line, which meant no return calls. “Please.”

“Ma’am, if it’s an emergency, you should call 911 and go to the hospital.”

“I amatthe hospital.”

“I can put you through to her nurse.”

For all the love of cheese doodles.Chelsea took a deep breath. “Sure. Her nurse would be fine.”

“Name?”

“Chelsea Kilpatrick—”

“Oh. Okay.” The receptionist sounded as though her name came with a warning label. “One moment, please.”

The hold music played with tips for women’s health—limit caffeine and alcohol.

Take a prenatal vitamin with iron and folic acid. Eat fiber. Avoid foods with high levels of mercury.

Anxiety needled her. A sudden urge to take notes made her twitchy.How was I supposed to know about mercury if it hadn’t been for the hold music?Where’s the pregnancy rule book?Could someone give her a Cliff’s Notes of dos and don’ts?Blood loss and human neck bites were sure to be high on the bad list.

What else didn’t she know? How do pregnant people act? She couldn’t recall spending much time with anyone nurturing another person inside their body. A cold sweat formed at the base of her hairline.

The hold music prattled on. Try whole-wheat toast, dry cereal, or a thin slice of ginger in hot decaf tea to combat morning sickness.

Morning sickness?The times that she thought Mac and Calhoun made her nauseous, she’d hadmorning sickness.

“Chelsea?” A new voice interrupted Chelsea’s shock. “You are a hard woman to get ahold of.”

“Dr. Doyle?” Chelsea managed. Her thoughts were a roller coaster of how she got pregnant and how to be pregnant. She needed books and blogs. A tutorial. Something.

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