She waited, the beginning twinges of panic setting in.
“It’s not a stomach bug, Renata. You’re pregnant.” Another sigh. “I’m taking it this wasn’t planned?”
Everything came to a screeching halt. Thoughts. Feelings. Her heart. The already frigid exam room plummeted a good twenty degrees. What? She blinked, hands tightening on the exam table edge. No. No way.
“I have to say, I’m just as surprised as you are.” He flipped the paper on her chart.
I doubt that.
“I think it’s best if you go see Dr. Farriday, Renata. We’ll get you set up before you leave.”
“Dr. Farriday?” she repeated. The same Dr. Farriday who cared for her brothers’ wives. The one every pregnant woman in town went to see—because she was...pregnant.
“Healthy mothers and healthy pregnancies are her specialty.” He scribbled something on her chart.
Healthy mothers. Healthy pregnancies. Pregnant? Her? No. She couldn’t be.
“Dr. Santos, I’m certain there’s been a mistake,” she finally managed. “I can’t be pregnant. It’s impossible.”
“Impossible?” His brows rose.
The heat in her cheeks was instantaneous. It was possible.
“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded. “We can confirm it with a blood test.”
“Yes.”
He stared at her long and hard then stood. “I’ll get Marcy to come in and get a blood sample.” With a click of his pen and another pointed look her way, he left the exam room.
By the time Marcy returned with her little white caddy full of multicolor tipped vials, Renata was fighting back tears.
“You go on and cry,” Marcy told her, patting her hand. “I cried through the first trimester with all five of my kids. And when I wasn’t crying, I was eating. Got to be the size of a house every time.”
Renata pressed her eyes shut and bit into her lip. There was no point in arguing with Marcy. It wasn’t her fault that the test had given some sort of false positive. It wasn’t her fault that Dr. Santos had acted all judgy about her supposed pregnancy. The blood test would show them all just how wrong they were. Then, she would totally expect an apology. And he could dig through the cabinet for one of those lollipops he gave to his younger patients.
“Sharp stick,” Marcy said.
Renata didn’t feel a thing. Dr. Santos’s calm proclamation was still ringing in her ears. And ten minutes later, when Dr. Santos returned with his clipboard and his pen, the words were just as deafening—especially since he was saying them again.
“No mistake.” He didn’t look up this time. “Strong positive. Go check out with Winnie at the front and she’ll help you get set up with Dr. Farriday.”
“Are you sure?” she whispered, her throat constricting.
His dark eyes met hers. “One hundred percent. You are going to be a mother, Renata Boone.” He paused, clicking his pen. “I’m looking forward to meeting the fellow who finally won your heart.”
Oh God. Ash. John-Asher Carmichael and his charming grin and magic hands. And absolute shock and panic over seeing her again. One night. Period. That was all they’d both wanted. This. A baby... Her stomach flipped. This was really happening?
How was she going to tell him?
How was she going to tell her family? Her father? Anybody?
“You go see Dr. Farriday as soon as you can. It’s more important than ever that you take care of yourself now, you hear me? I know it’s a stressful time of year, but stress isn’t good.”
Did he not grasp how big a shock this was? An unplanned pregnancy sort of meant stress, didn’t it? Or was she the odd woman out? No stress? Was he kidding? Still, she nodded. Words weren’t going to happen. Thankfully, numbness was sinking in.
“Winnie’s waiting,” he mumbled, helping her off the table.
The walk from the exam room to the front desk took forever. Imagination or not, it seemed like everyone in his office already knew and was whispering about her condition. Her only hope was that the doctor-patient thing would prevent news of her scandal reaching her family before she’d found the courage to tell them herself.