Page 61 of About That One Night
“Dr. Lodge will be with you in just a moment,”she says with a reassuring smile before closing the door behind her.
I sit, swinging my legs and trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The room is almost blindingly white, from the gleaming tile floor to the glossy cabinets filled with medical supplies. A colorful anatomical chart on the wall catches my eye, and I find myself staring at the complex tangle of organs, trying to locate the source of my discomfort—if only I had done better in health class.
A soft knock at the door jolts me out of my thoughts. Dr. Lodge enters, her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun, a warm smile on her face.
“Good morning, Zoe,” she says, glancing down at my chart. “So, tell me what brings you here.”
I shrug, suddenly feeling foolish. “Other than my physical? I haven’t been feeling well lately. Nausea, fatigue, some dizziness. And the crying . . . I mean, it’s not like I’m sad, but I cry over everything. Even for a cute kitty video posted on social media.”
“Do you think the fatigue and nausea could be part of an IBS flare up?” she asks.
I press my lips together and shrug. “Some symptoms make sense, others not so much . . .” like the crying, I want to remind her, but maybe it doesn’t matter right now.
Dr. Lodge nods, making a note. “Any fever or vomiting?”
“No, nothing like that. Just . . . off.”
“I see.” She sets aside the chart and reaches for her stethoscope. “Well, let’s take a look and see what’s going on.”
As Dr. Lodge goes through the familiar motions of the exam—listening to my heart and lungs, pressing gently on my abdomen—I try to relax, reminding myself that this is all routine. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is different this time. Something has changed.
Dr. Lodge finishes her exam and steps back, a thoughtful expression on her face. “How was your last period?”
I don’t even remember the exact date, and she wants to know how it was. “Umm, I’m not sure. Bloody?”
“Tender, swollen, or sore breasts and darkening of the areolas?”
I cover my boobs. “No . . . at least I don’t think so.” But just this morning, I was thinking that maybe I need to get my bra size checked again because they’re a little tight and the material is rough on my nipples.
She nods. “Let me go and check on some of the tests the nurse is running. We’ll have a technician come and draw your blood in the meantime.”
“You think it’s bad, don’t you?” I ask, feeling a wave of fear and surprise. “WebMD said it could be a thyroid disorder. There’s diabetes, or . . . cancer.”
The doctor shakes her head. “No, I have a couple of theories, but we definitely need to run some tests.”
She leaves, and a new nurse comes in to draw blood. I try to make small talk to distract myself, but my mind keeps racing with possibilities. The nurse is quick and efficient, and soon I’m alone again, waiting.
Dr. Lodge returns, her expression calm and professional. She takes a seat and looks me in the eye. “Okay, Zoe. We’ll need to wait for the blood tests to confirm, but based on your symptoms and the urine test, I’m pretty sure you’re pregnant.”
My jaw drops. “Pregnant?”
“Yes,” she says gently. “It would explain the nausea, fatigue, dizziness, and emotional fluctuations.”
I blink, my mind reeling. Pregnant. I hadn’t even considered that possibility. Suddenly, all those treats in Fiji take on a whole new meaning. It wasn’t the food but the things Max and I did . . . Fuck, is this true?
Am I having Max McCallister’s baby?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Zoe
“I take it this is unexpected,”Dr. Lodge says, her tone serious and professional.
Ya think?I want to say, but instead I smile and mumble, “It’s definitely a surprise.”
“As I said, we’ll confirm with the bloodwork. I’m going to send you for a sonogram to figure out the gestation age and your due date.” She continues talking about the appointments I need to make,but I’m lost in thought.
Pregnant. A baby.
