Page 7 of The Grumpy Billionaire Baby Daddy

“It usually appears toward the end of the month. It's a couple of days away.”

He scribbles again.

“Have you been experiencing fatigue?”

Judging from how difficult it was to move from my bed this morning, that would be a yes. I nod.

“There are a couple of suspicions, but we can't be entirely sure until we run tests. We'll have to get a sample of your blood. Do you understand?”

I nod again.

“Great. Just walk over to the lab. I'll let them know I'm sending you over. Go with this. The lab is at the end of the hallway.”

He scribbles a note and hands it over to me. As I walk out, I stare at it, squinting. Nothing on the note makes any sense.

Do doctors speak another language?

I roll more eyes and walk down the hallway. On the last door, the sign reads “Diagnostic Laboratory.”

I push the door open.

“Hello. Doctor Jimmy sent me for a blood test.”

Loud horns scream as the maddening gridlock gets worse. I love everything about LA, but the traffic situation is a mess. I slap my steering wheels and suck my teeth. I look at my wristwatch—4 pm. Dr. Jimmy said to come back in about four hours.

Just great.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the magazine, about the front cover, about Jason. Now that I think about it, he looked like a million bucks that night. He even smelled that way. But that’s not what I saw.

Images of the lust burning in his eyes as his hands moved over my body fill my senses. It was one of the most passionate nights of my life, and everything happened like it was an explosion from fantasies about exploring the depths of one another in the dark. When he kissed me the first time, there was a mix of tenderness and brashness. Three weeks later and the memories still make me tingle between my legs.

I still can’t believe it was Jason Greene. Would I have treated him differently if I knew it was him? I was too far deep in a lust haze to know.

The vibration from my phone adds to my growing irritation, and I frown as I rummage through my bag in search of it. I find it on the second ring. It's mom.

“Hey, Fifi. Are you back at the clinic yet? Remember, he said four hours.”

“Traffic is crazy, Mom. But I'm close.”

“Have you eaten something yet?”

“Uhh…Yeah. Chicken salad.”

“Good. Call me once you get the results, okay?”

“Yes, Mom.”

The call drops and the road clears a little, enough for me to swerve into the clinic street. My heart pounds as I approach the clinic again. Every dark thought crosses my mind. Maybe it's just an infection. Food poisoning, perhaps. It shouldn’t be serious. I pull over into the parking lot and make my way to the reception. The same woman is at the counter.

“Hi. Appointment with Dr. Jimmy now.”

“Right. Just a sec.”

She picks up the telecom.

“Name again, please?”

“Fiona McCall.”

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