Page 25 of The Doctor's Twins

“You and me both.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Not yet. I’m going to have a DNC this evening. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. I love you, my friend. Promise me you’ll call me if you need help.”

“I promise. I love you too.”

I felt a little better after the call. At least someone else knew the truth about Mateo. Alyssa promised to keep it to herself. I didn’t want my family to know. Not yet anyway.

Mandy from Dr. Forbes’ surgery called me and told me I had to be at the hospital at 4 pm. The procedure was scheduled for 6 pm.

I was nervous, but I knew it had to be done. It was absolutely true that doctors were the worst patients. Probably because we knew all the things that could go wrong during surgery. Ignorance truly was bliss, in this instance. But Dr. Forbes was purported to be one of the best, so I was hopeful.

He wasn’t at all what I had expected. For a start, he looked younger than his thirty-eight years. Also, he was insanely good-looking. Tall, dark, in excellent shape, armed with intensely dark eyes, and sporting well a manicured stubble. I guessed the sexy, soft-spoken gynecologist had no shortage of female admirers.

Not that I was on the hunt for a replacement by any stretch of the imagination. Mateo’s and my relationship wasn’t something I’d planned, as it happened. I should have known better. Who knew? Had I stopped for a moment before leaping, I may have spotted the flaws in my husband’s near-perfect facade. I wondered if I’d ever forgive myself.

* * *

“Hello, again,” Ben’s soothing voice sounded above me as I lay on a gurney in the operating theater.

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Are you kidding? You know what they say about doctors being patients, don’t you?”

“Ben, please. I think as doctors we can forgo the formalities.”

“Peyton.”

“Okay, Peyton. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

“I’ve got you,” he said and squeezed my hand.

It was unexpected, but at that moment, a slew of feelings coursed through me. It was as if we’d known each other for years. I trusted Dr. Ben Forbes, effortlessly. What was it about this man that had me so at ease?

A nurse wheeled me into the operating theater, where Ben, the anesthetist, and a team of theater nurses were going through their pre-op rituals.

“Hello, Dr. Taylor. I’m Peter. Are you ready for a wonderful nap?” the anesthetist smiled.

“Don’t suppose you have tequila in that IV?”

“Ah, a tequila girl. I’m afraid not, but I do have a lovely little cocktail I think you’re going to enjoy almost as much.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Peter.”

A nurse set up the drip and placed the needle into a vein in my hand.

“Sorry, it’s going to sting a bit,” she said.

Sting…yeah, sure. Can’t be worse than having the shit kicked out of you by an angry husband.

“Here we go,” Peter said. “Countdown from ten for me, please.”

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