Page 116 of Resisting the Running Back

CHAPTER 52: Sophie Summers

Bonding

Since I’ve only lived in San Diego since March and my annual appointments all take place in January, I haven’t taken the time to find doctors here in town. But I know someone in the medical field who has lived here her entire life, which means I have the inside track.

I text rather than call.

Me:Hey, my annual is coming up. Do you have a local GYN you’d recommend?

Cassie writes back immediately with a name and phone number, and I’ve never been more grateful that I have a friend here. And then she sends another message.

Cassie:She’s the best around, so she fills up quick. I’m not sure if she’s taking new patients, but I can ask.

Me:I can just call and find out. Thanks.

Before she replies, I dial the number.

“Primrose for Women, please hold.”

Of course.

I hold and hold and hold some more before she comes back.

“How can I help you?”

“Hi. I think I might be pregnant, and I’m new to the area. A friend recommended your office. Are you taking new patients?”

“Drs. Maddox and Thorpe are not, but I can get you in with Dr. Kacey this Thursday at nine fifteen.”

Dr. Maddox was the one Cassie recommended, but that’s okay. This Thursday is my book release. I don’t go to Vegas until Friday, so that should work.

Great, birthing a book and finding out more about birthing a kid all on the same day. Just what I was planning when I picked July thirtieth as my release date.

“That would be great, thank you.”

She takes some of my information down, tells me to complete the new patient packet on their website, and we hang up.

I immediately run to my computer and fill out the paperwork, and I realize I’m absolutely starving—as if the rolling over of my stomach has ceased and now it’s angry for food.

I make some eggs and munch on cheese while I wait for the eggs to cook, and I stare at my phone as I will it to ring.

I wonder what Miller’s doing right now. Is he in a meeting? At practice? Sleeping in?

I’d know if he called or communicated with me in any way, but all I have to go on is that one text from last night.

And that’s how I spend my day.

I shoot him a text around lunchtime, figuring at the very least that he’s awake.

Me:Hope today is going well. I miss you.

I don’t get a reply for hours, and when it comes, it’s another vague one.

Miller:Sorry I missed your call. My phone stays in my hotel room during practice. Today is going well. Miss you too.

I take the text back as my sign that he’s available to talk, and I hit the call button. I really just need to hear his voice.

But I get voicemail.

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