“Unfortunately, that’s the case many times. And you’re more likely to have issues with it later on.”
“Great,” she mumbles. “I already have wrist pain.” Her eyes fall shut and her jaw tenses. I move a pillow under her arm, propping up her injured wrist. She rests her other hand on her stomach and lets out a deep sigh.
When she opens her eyes, she reaches over and takes my hand.
“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?” she asks, tears filling her green eyes again.
The words die in my throat, but I force a smile and squeeze her hand. As a doctor, I never promise false hope, never give an overly optimistic answer when I don’t know what the fate will be. But for Quinn, I know I have to lie.
“Yes.”
“Thanks, Arch.” She squeezes my hand back. “Did they pull you out of surgery?”
“No. I just haven’t changed yet.” I smile and playfully nudge her, hoping to make her laugh. “Why, are you getting turned on from my ‘doctor clothes’ as you call them?”
She doesn’t laugh, but her lips do curve up into a smile. “A little. You can play doctor for me tonight.”
“I don’t have to play, baby.” I lean down, putting my lips to hers. Just then, the curtain is pulled back. Thinking it’s Sam, I don’t move away from Quinn just yet.
“Ms. Dawson?” the nurse says, clearing her throat. I move back and see Elena, the nurse I hooked up with a few times, standing at the foot of the bed. Her eyes widen when she sees me. We ended things on good terms, or at least I thought so. Our relationship was never serious, and we were both clear about keeping things casual from the start.
“Dr. Jones,” she stammers, eyes flitting from me to Quinn.
“He’s the father,” Quinn says quickly as if she’s afraid I’ll get in trouble for canoodling a patient or something.
Elena smiles. “I assumed so. Congratulations, Dr. Jones. I didn’t know you were having a baby.”
“Thank you,” I say and put my hand over Quinn’s belly. Quinn tenses and I know exactly what’s she’s thinking: congrats might not be in order if things…nope. I’m not letting myself finish that thought.
“Do you want him to come with you for the ultrasound?” Elena asks.
“Yes,” Quinn says right away and gets up. Holding her left wrist against her body, we follow Elena into another room, and the ultrasound tech is already waiting for us. Quinn gets onto the bed, folds the waist of her shorts down, and raises her shirt a bit, exposing her belly. She has some bruising under her belly button, and I swear to God I’m going to kill Bobby.
“I bruise easily,” Quinn tells me when she sees the concern on my face. “I always have.”
I can only nod, too upset to open my mouth. Taking Quinn’s hand, I move aside, anxiously looking at the screen next to Quinn. Unlike the OB’s office, this room isn’t set up with a big TV for us to look at. This is the ER, and ultrasounds done in here have an entirely different story most of the time.
The tech goes over Quinn’s information with her and then dims the lights. “How far along are you?” she asks and puts the jelly on Quinn’s stomach.
“Eight weeks.” Quinn’s hand shakes. I grip it tighter. Using my free hand, I smooth her hair back, not taking my eyes off the screen.
“And you were hit in the stomach?”
“Yes. By a doorknob.”
“Are you having any pain?”
“I felt some really sharp shooting pains and then felt crampy. It went away though.”
I didn’t know Quinn was feeling any pain at all. Getting hit in the stomach in the first trimester isn’t usually a cause for concern…unless it’s followed by pain or bleeding.
A few seconds tick by and black and white shapes come in and out of focus. And then I see it, a second before the tech stops moving the transducer around. The outline of what looks like a tiny gummy bear, with a fast-beating heart.
“Baby looks good and has a strong heartbeat,” the tech says, and turns her screen so we can see better. She points to each little body part and lets us watch that beautiful tiny heart beating for another few seconds. Then she turns the sound on, and Quinn finally relaxes.
The tech prints out some pictures and gives Quinn paper towels to wipe the jelly from her skin. She leaves, saying the doctor will be in shortly. Annoyed no one has done anything for Quinn’s injured wrist yet, I leave for a few moments and come back with supplies to ice and splint it.
“I never realized how handy it’d be to date a doctor,” she says with a small smile as I finish wrapping her wrist. I sit in the bed with her, wrapping my arms around her slender waist.
“The guy who tried to break in,” I start, working hard to keep my voice steady. Quinn turns to me, eyes meeting mine. And then Dr. Taylor knocks on the door, coming in a second later. She goes over the ultrasound—everything is normal.
“Are you still feeling pain?” she asks Quinn, looking at her chart on the computer screen.
“Not right now. I felt it most when I was moving.”
“Did it feel like period cramps?”
Quinn shakes her head. “Not at first. It was more sharp, like something was being pulled. Then it cramped and went away after a minute. I felt it again when I was getting in the car to come here.”
“Are you bleeding or spotting?”
“No.”
“The first trimester is full of aches, pains, and cramps. Everything looks good, so I feel confident saying those cramps are normal and you’re currently just more aware of them. And the sharp, pulling pain sounds like round ligament pain to me.”
“Isn’t it early for that?” I interject.
“Textbook-wise, yes,” she tells me. “But I’ve had enough patients experience it I know some unlucky women start feeling the aches and pains from the start.” She looks back at Quinn’s chart. “Do you normally have high blood pressure?”
I almost get up to peer over Dr. Taylor’s shoulder. Quinn doesn’t have high blood pressure. If anything, she’s on the low side, and I should—I need to stop. I’m not here as Quinn’s doctor, but as her boyfriend and the father of her child.
“No,” Quinn answers. “I think it’s from the stress.”
“Me too,” Dr. Taylor says and turns to the computer, putting in an order. “I’m going to get you a dose of Benadryl.” She flicks her eyes to me. “Sounds weird, I know, but I’ve been giving this to my pregnant patients for years. It’ll lower your blood pressure and will help you sleep when you get home. Rest will help you feel better. Being stressed and tense will make you all the more aware of those aches and pains.”
“Thanks,” Quinn says with a nod and finally relaxes a bit.
“Take it easy, and follow up with your regular OB at home. And congratulations, both of you.”
“Thank you,” I say, getting up to shake her hand. Elena comes in right after Dr. Taylor leaves, with water and medication in hand.
“Are you sure this is okay for our baby?” Quinn asks me quietly before she pops the pill in her mouth.
“Yes,” I assure her and she takes the Benadryl.
“This makes me loopy,” she says after taking a drink of water.
“I remember,” I say with a chuckle. “I think you were like sixteen or seventeen when you got poison oak all over your arms. Your mom gave you Benadryl and it was like you were drunk. Dean and I might have used you for our entertainment, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“Oh my God! I almost forgot about that.” Quinn shakes her head, laughing. “It was terrible. My goat got out hours before I had to load him up to take to the county fair. He was a muddy mess and I was covered in a rash.”
Elena looks away from the computer for a second, eyeing us both. “Sounds like you two have known each other a long time?”
She’s a good nurse and a decent human being. She’s not going to say anything or cause a scene, but I can sense the jealousy. Quinn turns her head to me, eyes sparkling. It makes my heart speed up.
“I’ve known Archer since
I was fourteen,” she says. “He was my brother’s college roommate.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Elena says with a fake smile. “Okay…you’re almost ready for discharge. You can return back to normal activities. If you experience any more abnormal pain or bleeding, come back to the ER.”
“Thank you.” Quinn lets out a sigh of relief, and when Elena leaves to grab the discharge papers for Quinn to sign, I turn to her.
“I need to tell you something,” I rush out.
“What is it?”
“I went out with that nurse a few times.”
“Oh. I thought she looked a little too surprised to find out you’re having a baby.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Why would I be? I’ve dated other people too, Archer. And you met Jacob already, who’s my ex.”
“Right. She wasn’t really my girlfriend, just—”
“Spare me the details.” She takes my hand. “You’re mine now, Archer Jones.”
I smile. She has no idea that I’ve always been hers.