One who is better when Jace is around.
Hitting my profile, I smile at our picture. Both of us acting goofy with me on his back, kissing his cheek. Ugh, I miss him and I can’t wait to get home and apologize. We haven’t discussed what happened at all. We’ve just enjoyed texting each other, and it almost feels like it did when we first met. But I know we both see the elephant in the room. We have to discuss it. We have to clear the air to move forward. Which is the only way we’re going.
When my phone goes off and I see my mom has texted me, I click her message.
Mom: How about you stay for a couple more days?
What the hell?
Me: No, I can’t. I have classes, gigs, and my internship.
Mom: Oh. Well, I was hoping you’d stay since it would just be us, no one else since everyone is leaving. I didn’t get to spend much time with you.
Me: Whose fault is that?
Mom: Avery. Come on, you wouldn’t come out of your room.
Me: Because you didn’t want me to. You didn’t care one bit about me and that hurts. So yeah, no, I’m not staying.
When the door opens, I look up as Dr. Perry comes in, shutting the door behind her. I look down to turn off my phone after reading what my mom said back, but she hasn’t said anything. Okay, then. Looking up, I swallow hard and look at Dr. Perry as she comes toward me. She looks worried, which confuses me. Her small frame is tense, her shoulders back as she moves closer, looking at my chart and chewing on the end of her pen.
What the hell is going on?
She looks at me with trouble-filled brown eyes. “Sorry it took so long. We, um, had some issues with your prescription.”
My lip curls up in confusion. “Huh? Why?” She looks at me, really looks at me. I’ve been coming to her for a very long time, so I know something is wrong. With my chest tightening and my heart slamming hard into my ribs, I eye her. “What’s wrong?”
“Avery,” she says, placing her hand on my knee. “Sweetheart, you shared so much today, more than
ever. I mean, you are growing right before my eyes. But you left out something huge. Something I needed to know before I try to write a scrip. I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. Aren’t you worried your medications could hurt the baby?”
I can only blink. “What? What did you say?”
Her head tilts to the side, confusion swimming in her eyes. “You’re pregnant, and I needed to know that before I wrote this scrip. I had to find a different prescription for your lingering traces of depression because the other med could be harmful to the baby.”
“What baby?”
“Your baby.”
My head is jerking from side to side as I throw my hands up in a defensive manner. “Whoa, back it up. I’m not pregnant.”
“Yes, you are,” she says, flipping her file over to show me. At the top it has my name and then below that in big, bold letters:
PREGNANT
“Wait, what?” My throat is closing as I pull in deep breaths through my nose.
This is a mistake.
“You didn’t know?”
I shake my head, and I swear my brain scrambles in my head. Maybe it’s resetting because surely this is fucking wrong. I can’t be pregnant. This can’t be true. “No!”
She holds the file to her lap, her gaze full of confusion but also concern. “Well, Avery, are you sexual active?”
“Yes. But we use condoms.”
“Those aren’t 100% effective, you know,” she points out and I shake my head, unable to breathe.