Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“You’re the happiest working with people,” Dad said. “Not paperwork.”
“Very true,” Mom said.
“So, Dad…” Our baby made me forget about the other big news going on in our lives. “Atlas told me everything going on at work. It’s incredible.”
His eyes lit up, the joy undeniable. “We’re still waiting to see patient response, but our results are already promising.”
Mom hugged him around his waist before she rose up to kiss him on the mouth. “So proud of you.”
His arm circled her, and he kissed her. “I know, baby.”
“It makes up for you being a shithead.”
Dad rolled his eyes.
“What happens next?” I asked.
“We have to complete this trial, and if it—”
“Then what happens?”
“We publish our findings, file with the FDA, and then…it can be accessible to everyone.”
“That is fucking unbelievable.” I cupped my face, shocked that this was happening. “You’re going to win another Nobel, Dad! That’s wild. No one has ever won two Nobels in medicine.”
Dad shrugged. “I don’t care about that.”
I gave him a cold look. “Everyone cares about a Nobel.”
“But I care more about getting this approved so everyone can have treatment. That’s the part of my legacy I’m concerned with. And if the pharmaceutical companies decide to jack up the price so it’s unaffordable to people, I’ll march all the way to the White House.”
“Or everyone will come to you.” Mom patted him on the arm. “Like they always do.” Mom turned to me. “It’s a big week for Atlas. He must be thrilled.”
“Honestly, he hasn’t talked about the research much. I think he’s more excited about this…” My hand moved over my stomach.
Dad smiled. “That’s exactly how it should be.”
The next two weeks passed in a blissful blur.
All of his patients saw signs of progress, and they hoped for a recovery for each one of them. When Atlas was home with me, he was attentive and loving, the charming, smooth guy I’d fallen in love with.
It was nice.
He was on top of me in bed, his lips all over my stomach, kissing me and inching farther down.
With my pregnant belly, he loved me more, worshiped me more, couldn’t get enough of me even though he already had it all. All I had to do was lie there and enjoy it, feel him kiss me between my legs, make me writhe in bed, gripping the sheets in ecstasy.
He drew me into another climax, my hips bucking automatically against his sexy mouth, and once that was over, he was on top of me again. He tilted my hips and pushed his length inside me, sliding through the wetness from his kisses and my arousal.
Then he rocked into me, one hand on my stomach, feeling the life inside me. He was a behemoth in bed, anxious for more, eager to make love every chance he got. He was a man who had regained his confidence, regained his worth.
It was beautiful to see.
The life we made together made him so happy.
We groaned and rocked together, clinging on to each other in our unbridled passion, the darkness of the bedroom enveloping us in warmth. He finished with a masculine moan, his dick hardening just a bit more before he released.
My hands swiped against his sweaty chest, my ring gliding across like skates on ice. I loved it when his skin tinted red, when that sexual flush entered his flesh.
He leaned down and kissed me everywhere again, like all the love he gave me wasn’t quite enough, and then he lay beside me, spooning me from behind, his hand moving to my stomach where it always stayed through the night.
I took a break from the office and went to my doctor’s appointment.
I wasn’t meeting with Dr. Jamil but someone else entirely.
A geneticist.
I’d given a blood sample prior to the appointment, and now I wanted to know if there was something in my DNA I should know about. I was thrilled that the baby was doing well, but since it was me, I always wanted to understand why something worked or didn’t work.
He came into the office, chart in hand, and gave it to me straight. “So, at your fifteenth chromosome, you have an extra allele.”
“What?” Illness didn’t run in my family, except for my mother’s cancer scare, so I’d never been told bad news like this. I had an unusual variation in my DNA, and that usually had dire consequences. “What does that mean?”
“Fortunately, it doesn’t mean anything in your case. It’s just a normal variant. But I thought you’d like to know.”
“I don’t have…a chronic disease that will manifest itself later?”
“Nope.”
I gave a slight nod. “Well, thank you.” Now I understood why this baby was possible.
He had an incomplete chromosome…and I had an extra.
23
Atlas
Every single patient in the trial reached remission.
Every. Single. One.
Stage four to cancer-free.
Was this real?
This was seriously my life right now?