Текст книги "The King"

Автор книги: J. R. Ward

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Текущая страница: 34 (всего у книги 39 страниц)

SIXTY-ONE

As Beth woke up, the first thing she did was a body scan for the urge to run for the bathroom. When that came back with a not-right-now, she pushed herself to a vertical and swung her feet to the floor. How long had she slept for? The shutters were still up so it wasn’t yet daylight, but man, she felt like she’d been out for days.

Looking down at herself, she put her hands on her belly—

Holy crap, she didn’t remember swallowing a basketball.

Under her palms, her stomach was swollen and hard, the protrusion such that she doubted she would be able to pull her pants on.

Her first instinct was to reach for the phone and call Doc Jane, but then she dialed back on the panic and got to her feet.

“Feeling okay,” she murmured. “Feeling pretty good…”

As she went over to her closet, she felt like her body was a bomb about to go off—and, man, she hated it: She’d had no idea how much she took for granted in the health department until she’d deliberately tried to complicate herself—

For no apparent reason, the Saturnine Ruby slipped right off her finger.

Glancing down, she watched the ring bounce on the carpet—and frowned as she bent over and picked the thing up. She and Wrath had traded back for convenience because both had struggled with something that didn’t fit—and the symbols of their marriage had meaning no matter whose hand they were on.

Or falling off of, as was the case—

“What the hell?” she breathed.

As she went to put the thing back on, she realized that her fingers were positively skeletal, the skin stretched over knobby knuckles and a sunken palm.

Heart starting to hammer, she rushed to the mirror in the bathroom, turning on the lights—

Beth gasped. The reflection staring back at her was all wrong—all totally frickin’ wrong. Overnight, literally, her face had hollowed out, all the fat gone from her cheeks and her temples, her chin sharp as a knife, the tendons in her neck standing out in bald relief.

Stark fear speared into her chest. Especially as she lifted her arm and pulled at the skin on her triceps. Loose. Way loose.

It was as if she had lost twenty-five pounds within hours—except for her belly.

Trying not to completely freak out, she headed for the closet to find something she could wear. In the end, she pulled on a pair of drawstring sweatpants, and one of Wrath’s few button-downs. The latter was like a cloud of fine white cotton around her—and that meant, as she had another hot flash, there was plenty of ventilation happening.

At least her slippers fit perfectly.

Heading down to the second-floor landing, she put her head into the study and didn’t find Wrath at the desk. Maybe he was working out?

She was going down the grand staircase when she found him.

He and George were walking out of the dining room along with a string of doggen, the staff carrying all kinds of silver trays across the depiction of the apple tree in bloom.

The second he caught her scent, he stopped. “Leelan! Are you sure you should be up?”

Turned out the smell of the food was one hell of a distraction: the spike of hunger she got in response enough to halt her in her tracks.

“Ah … yeah, I feel okay. I’m hungry, actually.”

As well as scared to death.

While the staff continued on into the billiards room, filing in past some sheets of heavy plastic, Wrath came over to the base of the stairs. “Let’s get you into the kitchen.”

Heading all the way down to join him, she let him take her arm, and leaned into his strength, taking a deep, easing breath. She’d probably just imagined everything up there. Really. Probably.

Crap. “You know, I slept well,” she murmured as if to reassure herself. Which didn’t work.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm.”

Together, they walked past the long dining table, and went through the flap door in the far corner. On the other side, iAm was once again at the stove, stirring a great pot.

The Shadow turned—and immediately frowned as he looked at her.

“What?” She put her hands to her stomach. “What are you—”

“Nothing,” he said, banging his wooden spoon on the steel vat. “You two like chicken soup?”

“Oh, yes, that sounds perfect.” Beth hopped up onto a stool. “And some bread maybe—”

Fritz materialized at her elbow with a baguette and a plate with butter. “For you, madam.”

She had to laugh. “How did you know?”

As Wrath sat on the stool next to her, George parked it between them. “I had him on standby.”

A steaming bowl of soup was slid in front of her by the Shadow. “Enjoy.”

“Him, too?” she asked of iAm.

“Yeah, the Shadow mighta been on it as well.”

Picking up the spoon Fritz offered her, she dug in, aware the three males were staring at her—Wrath with such intensity, it was almost as if he’d gotten his sight back—

“Mmmmm,” she said—and meant it. The soup was perfect, simple, not too heavy, and warm, warm, warm.

Maybe it was just that she’d been through the needing and not eaten for how long?

“So what’s going on in the billiards room,” she asked, to try to distract the males.

“They’re cleaning up after me.”

She winced. “Ah.”

Wrath patted around for the baguette and broke off the hard end, putting it aside. The piece he then tore for her was soft in the middle, crunchy on the outside—and the butter he put on it was the unsalted, sweet kind.

The combo was great with the soup.

“Would you like something to drink?” Fritz asked.

“Wine?” iAm said—before catching himself. “No, not wine. Milk. You need the calcium.”

“Good idea, Shadow,” Wrath chimed in as he nodded at Fritz. “Make it whole—”

“No, no, that will make me gag.” Annnnd didn’t that stop all of them in their tracks. “Which was true before all the, well, you know. But the skim does sound good.”

And so it went, the three of them waiting on her: More soup? iAm hit her bowl again right away. More bread with butter? Husband was on it. More milk? The butler raced for the fridge.

Being surrounded by all the normal really helped calm her down. But she felt the need to try to set the record straight before they fed her until she exploded.

“Boys. I really appreciate all this—but we don’t know if I’m preg—”

She did not get to finish the thought, much less the sentence.

All at once, everything she’d eaten headed for the fire exit at the same time, her stomach contracting without warning.

She barely made it to the staff bathroom in time.

Yup, it all came up, from soup to bread, as it were. And then, even when she could have sworn not just her stomach, but her entire chest cavity was empty, the heaving kept her bent over the toilet until her eyes watered, her head pounded, and her throat was nothing but a raw, burning mess.

“Hey, how we doing?”

Of course, it was Doc Jane. “Hey, what’s up—”

It was a long while before she could say anything else. And P.S., she really hated how the gagging sounds echoed in the bowl.

When there was a break in the action, so to speak, she rested her hot, sweaty forehead on her arm, reached up to flush again … and found that she didn’t have the energy to pull the lever down.

“I think we need to get you to the doctor,” Jane said.

“I thought you were one,” Wrath bit out.

“Do we have to?” Beth countered—

The fact that she started throwing up again pretty much answered things, didn’t it.

* * *

As Wrath stood just outside the staff bathroom by the kitchen, he was ready to scream at his lack of vision: There was nothing like having your mate in medical distress to get you good and pissed off that you were blind.

With his piece-of-shit pupils, he couldn’t see her face to get a read on her coloring, her expression, her eyes. And his keen sense of smell? Out the window, too—the vomiting had clogged up his sinuses, making it impossible to tease out any emotional clues.

The one thing that was working? His ears—so that every new round of sickness went straight into his brain.

“Okay, let’s go,” Beth finally said hoarsely.

“Wait a fucking minute,” he barked. “Go where?”

Jane’s voice was level. “To the doctor—”

“You are a fucking doctor—”

V’s mate put her hand on his forearm. “Wrath. She needs a specialist and we’ve found one.”

WTF—? Wait a minute. “That does not sound like Havers,” he gritted.

“It’s not. She’s a human—”

“Ohhh no, nope, not going to happen—”

Annnnnd cue another round of heaving.

Behind his wraparounds, he closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

Against the horrible backdrop of his wife’s suffering, Doc Jane started giving him all kinds of very rational reasons that his shellan had to be handled carefully. But, Christ, the idea she’d be going out in the human world, during the day—because hello, the cocksucking shutters just went down …

You know what? He really fucking wished life would take him off its shit list. He was getting pretty goddamn sick and tired of unwinnable situations.

“…half-breed, unknown complications, incapable of making an assessment…”

He cut through Doc Jane’s little speech. “No offense, but I’m not letting my wife go out there without serious-ass backup, and nobody can leave this house right now—”

“So I’ll go with her.”

Wrath glanced over his shoulder at the sound of iAm’s voice. His first instinct was to go all bonded-male on the guy and tell the Shadow he had this, thanks. The problem was, he didn’t have shit—and only an asshole stood in the way of his mate getting the medical treatment she required.

Wrath let his head fall back with a curse. “Are you sure she needs this?” he said, not really certain who exactly he was talking to.

“Yes,” Doc Jane answered gravely. “I’m totally sure.”

iAm spoke up again. “Nothing will happen to her on my watch. On my honor.”

He had a feeling the Shadow was offering him his palm—and sure enough, as Wrath reached out blindly—natch—the other male caught hold of it.

“What can I do for you?” Wrath heard himself say as they shook.

“Nothing right now. Just let me take her.”

“Okay. All right.” Except as Wrath let go and stepped back, he was not at peace with any of this. What other choice did he have, though?

Shaking his head, he thought, see, this was precisely why he hadn’t want a young. This pregnancy shit was not for him.

What the hell was he going to do if he lost her—

“Wrath,” Beth said weakly. “Wrath, where’d you go?”

As if she knew he was two thoughts past sanity—heading into the weeds of wigging out.

“I’m right here.”

“Will you take me upstairs? I think I should try and feed first, and I don’t want to do it out in the open.”

“Plus,” Doc Jane murmured, “I need to call and see when she can fit us in.”

“Wrath? Take me upstairs?”

Snapping into action, he went forward and gathered his beloved gently in his arms, lifting her from the floor.

And what do you know, instantly, he was grounded. Calmed. Prepared to hold his shit together if only to spare Beth the worry over him.

“Thank you…” she whispered as her head lolled into the crook of his arm.

“What for?”

She didn’t answer him until George had guided them over to the base of the stairs and Wrath had begun their ascent.

Her reply was just one word: “Everything.”

SIXTY-TWO

It was seven twenty-three in the morning when Sola stepped out on her terrace and saw the ocean properly.

“Almost worth the drive,” she murmured to herself.

With the sun rising, the vast blue expanse of water melded with the color of the early sky, only the peach clouds of dawn marking the horizon in between the heavens and the earth.

Settling into a lawn chair, she groaned as every joint she had, and some she didn’t know about, let out a holler. Man, she was stiff. Then again, a full twenty-four hours behind the wheel of a car would do that to a girl. And it wasn’t just her bones that were aching. Her right calf was spasming¸ as if it were considering a full-on charley horse—in spite of the fact that she’d used cruise control a good eighty percent of the time.

Wow, the air was soft and nice down here, even in December.

And the humidity was awesome. Her skin was positively drinking up the moist air—her hair as well, her ponytail already corkscrewing at the end.

“I go sleep now,” her grandmother announced.

Sola looked back through the screen door. “Me, too. I’ll be in soon.”

“No smoking,” came the scold.

“I gave that up two years ago.”

“And you’re not doing it again.”

On that note, her grandmother nodded and walked out of the shallow living area.

Sola refocused on the ocean. Her Miami place was on the fifth floor of an older building, the condo just an unassuming, fifteen-hundred-square-foot space that she’d bought a couple of years ago for all cash and then decorated out of Rooms To Go on the cheap. The complex had a pool and tennis courts, though—and it was mostly dead, what with the holidays approaching and the snowbirds yet to fly down for the rest of the winter.

Arching her back, she tried to give her spine a little relief. No such luck. She was probably going to need a chiropractor after that drive.

Good thing she was never going to have to worry about doing it again.

Shit, that was depressing.

Putting a hand into her back pocket, she took out her iPhone. No calls. No texts.

She hadn’t thought leaving Assail would hurt this much. And yet, she couldn’t say she regretted it.

What was he doing right now, she wondered. Probably settling in after a night of wheeling and dealing in the dark underbelly of the Caldwell economy.

Would he go back to that woman? The one she’d watched him fuck?

Closing her eyes, she breathed in deep a couple of times—and the fact that she could smell the brine in the air helped. She was not up there anymore, she reminded herself. She was not with him anymore—not that they’d really been together.

So what he did and who it was with? Not her issue.

Anymore.

This was going to be okay, she told herself as she put her phone back and stared at the ocean. She had done the right thing …

And yet, even still, snapshots of Assail dogged her mind, barging in and taking over the beautiful view in front of her.

Bending down, she felt around her thigh and then pressed her fingers into the bandage. As pain shot up into her torso and raced her heart, she told herself to remember how she’d ended up here. Why she’d relocated.

Exactly how her prayers had been answered.

Yeah, the drive had given her something other than a sore body and a tired brain: all those highway miles had done wonders for her perspective on everything.

Up north, she’d told herself that her escape had been at her own direction.

But now, as that sun rose in front of her, the rays streaking out over the water, the dolphins frolicking in the morning waves … she realized, no. That had been a cop-out.

Because admitting to herself that she believed in God was too scary, too crazy.

Away from everything she had left behind up north, in a neutral territory where she was starting over, she was able to be honest with herself. That prayer she had offered up, that last one, had in fact been answered … and in coming down here, she was honoring her end of the bargain.

At great sacrifice, as it turned out … because she knew it was going to be a long, long time before she was able to stop checking her phone.

Getting up from the lawn chair, she went back inside, and as she paused to shut the door, she looked at the sliding glass … and remembered that first floor of Assail’s house. And as she picked up the suitcase she’d left just inside the door … all she could think of was that she’d packed the clothes in it when she’d still been with him.

Same as when she brushed her teeth: The last time she’d used her toothbrush had been in his upstairs bathroom.

And as she got into the white sheets, she recalled lying next to him after he’d come to her in the shower and taken her with such incredible power.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the unfamiliar sounds around her—someone talking loudly in the parking lot out back, the person upstairs running their shower, a dog barking on the other side of the wall.

Assail’s place had been so quiet.

“Shit,” she said aloud.

How long was it going to take before she stopped measuring everything by what she had left behind?

It was just like it had been when her mother had died. For months afterward, the metronome of life had been driven by nuances of her mom: last movie seen together, the things they’d bought at the store just that afternoon, the final birthday present given and received, that Christmas—which, of course, no one had known would be the end of the tradition.

All of that relentless remembering had gone on for a good year, until each one of the anniversaries, internal and external, had been exhausted. Getting through them had been like punching through a wall each time, but she had done it, right? She had put one foot in front of the other until life had resumed a kind of normalcy—

Ah crap. She really shouldn’t be comparing this walk away from a drug dealer to the mourning of the woman who’d given birth to her and raised her for how long before her grandmother had taken over?

But there you had it.

Before Sola finally fell asleep, she ended up reaching out to the bedside table, opening the drawer, and putting her father’s Bible under her pillow.

It was important to keep a tie to something, anything.

Otherwise? She was terrified she was going to repack that goddamn Ford she’d rented and head right back. And that stupidity simply was not an option.

After everything that had gone down lately, she really didn’t want to know what happened to people who broke an agreement with the big guy.

And no, she wasn’t talking about Santa Claus.

SIXTY-THREE

Good thing Beth had never had a hypothetical fantasy about what it would be like to find out she was pregnant.

As she sat in a perfectly nice waiting room, surrounded by cushy, neutral-toned chairs, magazines about menopause and motherhood, and women who were either in their twenties or fifties, she was very clear that whatever came from this appointment, positive, negative or too-early-to-tell, she would never have cooked up this scenario:

Without her husband. Escorted by a Shadow with enough concealed weapons on him to blow up a tank—or maybe an aircraft carrier. Having taken a vein for blood, for chrissakes, some twenty minutes before leaving a house the size and make up of Versailles.

Yeah, not exactly shit that would get written up in, say … she picked up the nearest mag. Modern Motherhood, for example.

Flipping through the colorful pages, she saw all kinds of Happy, Satisfied Mothers holding their Heavenly Angels on Earth as they preached about the sanctity of breast-feeding, the importance of skin-to-skin contact, and making that critical, first postnatal doctor’s appointment.

“I’m going to be sick,” she muttered, tossing the propaganda aside.

“Shit,” iAm said as he leaped up. “I’ll find the loo—”

“No, no.” She pulled him back down. “I meant, yeah, no, it was just a comment.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. And next time I get annoyed, I promise to just say so. Not throw out a metaphor.”

iAm had to squeeze back into his own stuffed chair: The Shadow was so big, he overflowed the armrests and the back cushion—and he attracted a lot of attention.

Although not because of his size, necessarily.

Every single woman who came in, walked by, or worked at reception looked at him—in a way that proved you weren’t dead from the neck down even if you were pregnant or your ovaries were winding things up or you were frazzled from ringing phones, lots of patients and tons of paperwork.

“Have you ever been married?” she asked the guy.

Absently, he shook his head, those black eyes of his tracing around as if he were ready to defend her with his life.

Which was awfully sweet, really.

“Ever been in love?”

Another shake of the head.

“Do you want children?”

Looking over at her he laughed tightly. “Did I hear that you were once a reporter?”

“Is my who-what-where-why-when coming through again?”

“Yeah. But it’s cool, I got nothing to hide.” He crossed his legs ankle to knee. “You know, with everything going on with my brother all these years, I don’t ever think like that, you feel me? I gotta get him sorted, and shit knows, that ain’t been happenin’.”

“I’m really sorry.” She’d heard enough through the household gossip lines to get the gist of their situation. “To be honest, I keep expecting to come down one of these nights and find you both gone.”

He nodded. “Might well happen—”

“Marklon, Beth?” a nurse called out from an open door across the way.

“That’s me.” Getting to her feet, she put her purse up on her shoulder and headed over. “Right here.”

Jesus, talk about nausea: At the prospect of going in to actually meet the doctor, she thought, okay, now she really was going to throw up again—

The nurse smiled and stepped back, motioning to a little triage room behind her. “I’m just going to get your weight and blood pressure in here.”

“Can you hold this?” she asked iAm, holding out her Coach bag.

“Yup.”

As he took her purse, the nurse paused and pulled a head-to-toe on the Shadow. Then she flushed brilliant red, and had to clear her throat. “Welcome,” she said to him.

iAm just nodded and kept scanning the back area. Like maybe a matched set of ninjas was going to jump out of an exam room or something.

Beth had to smile as the nurse refocused and got into the business of taking vitals.

After that was done, the woman escorted them down a hallway that had a dozen or so numbered rooms opening off of it. As they went along, the decor was the same brown and cream of the waiting room, with similar kinds of glass mounted, fake-textured “art” doing its best to give a noninstitutional feel to a place filled with medical equipment, and people in scrubs and white coats.

“In five, please,” the nurse said, once again standing to the side.

As iAm passed by her, she took an extra step back, her eyes widening as if she liked the way he smelled.

The nurse shook herself and came in, closing the door. “If you could sit on the exam table, that would be great. And you can be anywhere you’d like, sir.”

The Shadow chose the seat right across from the entry, staring at the door as if he were daring somebody, anybody to come through it.

With another smile, Beth had to wonder what the nurse would think if she knew he was prepared to jump anyone he didn’t like the looks of. And kill them.

Maybe cut them up and put them into a stew.

God, she hoped it really had been chicken in that soup …

“Ms. Marklon? Hello?”

She shook herself. “Oh, sorry, what?”

The history part of things went fast, because before her transition she’d been perfectly healthy, and it wasn’t like she was going to tell them that a mere two years ago, she’d become a vampire.

Duh.

“And how far along do you think you are?” came the eventual question.

“I have no idea whether I’m even pregnant, to be honest. It’s a possibility, though, and I am having a lot of nausea—I just want some reassurance everything’s okay.”

“Have you taken an over-the-counter test?”

“No. Should I have?”

The nurse shook her head. “We can do a blood test here if the doctor wants one. And as for the nausea, if you are pregnant, a lot of women get morning sickness that’s more like all-day sickness in the first trimester—and yet it’s all perfectly fine.”

“Good Lord, I can’t believe I’m talking like this.”

The nurse just smiled and finished writing in the chart.

“Okay, now, if you’d like to change into this gown.” A paper square was placed in her lap. “I’ll send the doctor in.”

“Thanks.”

The door shut behind the nurse with a click.

“I can’t leave you,” iAm said as he got up, turned around and faced the wall—and put his head in his big hands. “But I would strongly suggest that you do not tell your husband you got naked with me in the room. I like my arms and legs just where they are, thank you very much.”

“I agree.”

As she made quick work of getting out of her clothes and into that flimsy gown, she really wanted Wrath with her. And actually, it was a good lesson for how much his presence calmed her out. They were so rarely apart, it was easy to forget what he meant to her, especially when things got stressful.

Annnnnd then it was a case of hurry up and wait.

“So if you were going to get married, what kind of woman do you want?”

iAm glanced over at her. “Can’t we talk about baseball or something?”

Oh, crap. “Or guy, as the case might be. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He laughed again. “I’m not gay.”

“So what would she be like?”

“Man, you don’t quit, do you?”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “Listen, I’m sitting here, freezing cold in this paper doily, about to be told that I have the flu and shouldn’t have bothered coming in. Do me a solid and get my mind off my reality, will you?”

iAm sat back in his chair. “Well, like I said, I haven’t really given it a lot of thought.”

“Can I set you up with someone—”

“No,” he barked. “Nooooooooo. No, no, no, back right off the edge of that ledge, girlie.”

She put out her hands. “Okay, okay. Just, I don’t know, you seem like a good guy.”

He didn’t respond to that one.

And as he fell silent, she figured, damn it, she had made him feel awkward—

“Can I tell you something nobody knows?” he blurted.

Beth sat up straighter. “Yes, please.”

The Shadow let out a long exhale. “The truth is…”

Oh, God, please don’t let the doctor come in before he—

“I’ve never been with a female before.”

As Beth’s brows punched up to the center of her forehead, she gave them a strict lecture about resettling. She didn’t want him to look up and see the shock on her face.

“Well, that’s…”

“Lame. I know.”

“No, no, not at all.”

“Trez has been more than making up for it,” he muttered. “If we averaged his sex life and mine, we’d still be on the Wilt Chamberlain curve.”

“Oh, wow. I mean—”

“Before my brother bolted from the s’Hisbe, I was too goddamn shy. And then once the shit hit the fan with him? I’ve been trying to keep him from spiraling completely out of control. Plus, I don’t know, I’m not into the sluts. Our tradition says you honor your body by sharing it only with someone you are halved with. Guess I can’t get that bullshit out of my head.”

After a moment, he glowered across at her. “What.”

“I just … I’ve never heard you say that many words at once. It’s nice to have you open up.”

“Can we keep this between us?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

She waited a couple of beats. “But if I meet someone, like, you know, who might make sense, can I introduce you two?”

He shook his head. “’Preciate it. I’m not a good bet, though.”

“So what are you going to do, live your whole life alone?”

“I have my brother,” he said gruffly. “Trust me. That shit is more than enough to keep me busy.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it is.”

When he got quiet again, she assumed he was done talking. Instead, he spoke up one last time: “I only have one other secret.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t tell anyone … but I like that goddamn cat of yours.”

Tilting her head to the side, Beth smiled at the Shadow. “I have a feeling … he’s pretty fond of you, too.”

It was a full hour before the door opened again.

And it was only another nurse. “Hi, I’m Julie. Dr. Sam’s tied up in an emergency. She’s really sorry. She’s asked me to take a blood sample to speed things along?”

For a split second, Beth worried about that bright idea. There were anatomical differences in the two species. What if they found something—

“Ms. Marklon?”

iAm had said he was going to take care of any fallout, though, she reminded herself. And she could guess how he was going to do that.

“Yes, of course. Which arm do you want?”

“Let me take a look at your veins.”

Five minutes, one alcohol pad, two sticks, and three filled vials later, she and iAm were alone again.

For a while.

“Does it always take this long?” he asked. “With humans?”

“I don’t know. I was never sick, and I sure as hell never wondered if I was pregnant before.”

The Shadow rearranged himself in his chair again. “You want to call Wrath?”

She took out her phone. “I’m not getting a signal. How ’bout you?”

He checked his. “Nope.”

Made sense. They were in one of St. Francis Hospital’s newer buildings, a twelve– or fifteen-story-high steel-and-glass number—and they were only on the second floor. In the middle.

Not a window in sight.

God, she wished Wrath were here—

The door swung open, and later … much later … she would recall the first thing that struck her:

I like this woman.

Dr. Sam was five feet tall, fifty years old … and all about her patient. “Hi. I’m Sam, and I’m sorry you’ve had to wait.”

Shifting the folder she was carrying to her opposite arm, she put her hand out and smiled, flashing pretty white teeth and a face that had aged well naturally. Her short blond hair was a good dye job, and she had some nice gold bangles and a diamond ring on her left hand. “You must be Beth. Manny’s an old friend of mine. I used to do ob-gyn consults for him in the ER from time to time.”

For absolutely no good reason, Beth felt an absurd urge to cry—and tamped it right down. “I’m Beth. Marklon.”

“And you are?” she said to iAm, also offering her hand.

“A friend.”

“My husband can’t be here,” Beth said as those two shook.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“He’s … not going to be able to be at the appointments.”

Dr. Sam propped a hip on the exam table. “Is he in the military?”

“Ah…” She glanced at iAm. “Actually, yes.”

“Thank him for his service for me, will you?”

God, she hated lying. “I will.”

“Okay, so let’s get down to business.” She opened the folder. “Have you been taking prenatal vitamins?”

“No.”

“That’s going to be first on our list.” Dr. Sam glanced up. “I’ve got some good organic ones that won’t make you sick—”

“Wait, so am I pregnant?”

The doctor frowned. “I—I’m sorry. I thought this was your ultrasound checkup?”

“No, I came in to find out whether I have a stomach flu or if I’m … you know.”

The doctor pulled the chair the nurse had sat in up really close. Then she put her hand over Beth’s. “You’re very definitely pregnant. And you have been for a while. That’s why we need to get you on those prenatals right away—as well as try to put some weight on you.”

Beth felt the blood drain out of her head. “I—that’s not possible.”

“Going by your HCG results, I’d say you’re into your second trimester—although, of course, levels vary significantly. But right now you’re over one hundred thousand. So as I said, I’m hoping you’ll let me do an ultrasound so we can see what’s going on.”