There’s silence, and then he asks. “Where?”
“San Diego.”
“Wait, what?”
Now I’m the one laughing. “SAC Trey offered me a job. I’m going to lead the sex crimes task force here. She gave me three agents and an analyst. And I have my own office.”
“Well damn, look at you. I’m happy for you.”
“And for yourself?”
“Duh,” he says. “No time difference, less traveling, and when you’re not out of town, you’ll be in our bed. Of course, I’m happy. Not only for me but for us.”
“What about you and the DC office?”
“Evan and I’ve been chatting. We’re thinking of moving the home base here. I’m not worried.”
“Want to drive to Vegas and help me clean out my rental?”
“Works for me. I’ll see you when you get home. Love you.”
“I love you,” I tell him and hang up.
On my way back to the apartment Nate and I share, I stop at the urgent care clinic. Something isn’t right, but I can’t put my finger on it. I check-in and prepare to wait for hours, only to have my name called immediately by the nurse. She takes my height and weight, hands me a cup, and tells me to pee in it. Fun times, all around. This kind of stuff reminds me why I don’t go to the doctor. I leave the sealed cup on the tray, wash my hands and open the door. The nurse tells me to follow her to a room, where she takes more vitals.
“Okay, the doctor will be in.”
I’m halfway through an article about police in schools when the doctor walks in with a big smile on her face. “Congratulations,” she says.
“For what?”
“You’re pregnant.” The end of her last word trails off, and her smile disappears. She sits down on her stool and looks at me. “I guess that’s not why you’re here.”
“No, it’s not. I haven’t felt right for the past couple of weeks, but I guess this explains it.”
“So, you weren’t trying?”
“Define trying?” Because if it’s having sex with the person you’re in love with every chance you get, then yes, Nate and I are trying all the time. But if it’s missing a pill here and there, then no, we’re not trying, despite me missing a pill here and there.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She looks at me and laughs. “Well, to be the bearer of news, you’re pregnant. We don’t really do vaginal exams here, but I can refer you to an obstetrician if you don’t already have one. Or offer you some pamphlets on resources.”
“Are you sure?”
“About a referral?” she asks, but I’m shaking my head. “About being pregnant?” I nod. “Yeah, HCG is present in your urine. I can send you to the lab to test your blood for another confirmation. Your OB can do an ultrasound as well, and they’ll be able to tell you how far along you are.”
And whether I’m carrying twins.
Fuck.
The doctor hands me a slip of paper with four names written down, along with my urine results. They’re nothing but a blur. She leaves, but not before putting her hand on my shoulder. “Take your time.” I nod but say nothing.
I don’t know how long I sit on the exam room table, but it’s long enough to miss a slew of texts from Nate and a handful of calls. When I leave the office, the staff stare, making me wonder what the doctor said to them. I imagine people are excited when they get results like this, but I’m not.
The drive over the bridge takes hardly any time, and I find myself sitting in the parking lot, staring out into nothing. The tap on my window startles me. Nate stands there with a concerned look on his face. I turn off the car and step out.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I lie. I hate lying, but I have to think.
“Why are you just sitting in your car?”
“Just lost in thought, is all. Thinking about everything.”
He leans in and kisses me. “I’m so proud of you. Do you want to go out and celebrate or eat in?”
I hold his hand. “Let’s eat in.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod. “I am.”
Nate studies me. The way he looks at me makes me want to crawl into a hole. I kiss him, hoping to assuage his thoughts, and start walking toward our apartment. I know I have to tell him, but I want to see a doctor first, one who can show me proof, before I open the door to something that could ruin us.
CHAPTER 3
NATE
All night, something felt off with Cara. She seemed lost in her own world but assured me things were good. I’m thankful she didn’t use “fine” to tell me she’s okay because then I would know something is bothering her. Her quiet demeanor, I chalk up to her job. It’s stressful, and I wish every day damn she worked in a different department, like fraud or corruption. Anything other than what she must deal with daily.