Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Finally, Josie pulls into the parking lot and shuts off the engine. I make a move to get out of the car, but she just sits there, a blank stare on her face. When I glare at her, she flinches out of it, teasing, “Oh, did you want me to go inside with you?”
I snort and she laughs, though it sounds a little forced. And when I look at her face again, something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Are you—” I start to ask if she’s okay, but Josie is quick to cut me off as she hops out of the driver’s seat.
“Come on.”
I don’t hesitate to follow.
It’s a quick walk and no wait, thanks to the hour, so before I know it, we’re in the exam room, and the doctor is coming through the door. Josie sits up straighter in her chair and puts away her phone, and I tuck my arms across my plastic-drape-covered lap.
“Hi, Dr. Vesper. Thanks for agreeing to this.”
Dr. Vesper is a stout woman with a warm smile and a smattering of wrinkles right at the corners of her lips. She’s probably in her late fifties, judging by her skin, but I have to say, she looks to be aging really gracefully.
“Yes, well. I’m used to desperate moms-to-be on the phone, but I have to admit your desperation sounded a little different.”
I cringe a little. Yeah, I imagine it did, seeing as I’m not entirely sure I’m not hallucinating all of this at this point.
“All right, so we ran the urine sample you gave us, and you are definitely pregnant, my dear. HCG levels look good, but since you’re only six weeks or so, we’re going to hold off on the ultrasound. I don’t like to do them until at least eight weeks. That way, we can feel confident we’re going to hear a heartbeat.”
I know Dr. Vesper is still talking, but my brain is too busy doing a buzzing bounce on the words you are definitely pregnant.
I’m not crazy. This isn’t a hallucination—I am carrying a baby that Bennett Bishop and I made together.
Josie covers her mouth with a hand, and tough B that she is, I still see the glisten of a tear in her eye. I swear, if I’ve actually found the way to break through her normally hard shell by getting preggo, I might have to scream.
“So, today, all we’re really looking to do is get some information about family medical history, for both you and the father,” Dr. Vesper updates. “I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork, we’ll get you started on prenatals, and then we’ll get another appointment set up for you in a couple of weeks.”
Family medical history. For the first time since seeing two pink lines days ago, I am struck by the fact that I don’t know what the genetic history of Summer’s diagnosis was. Was it because of a gene carried by her mother? Or Bennett? Or was it a combination of the two?
Josie sees the look on my face and reads it correctly. When she speaks up so I don’t have to, I’m thankful. “The, uh, father has one other child who was diagnosed with Osteogenesis Imperfecta Type III.”
Dr. Vesper’s face is incredibly kind. “Okay. We’ll plan to do a full genetic panel then, at around ten weeks, and that’ll tell us everything we need to know. Until then, I don’t want you to worry. Though osteogenesis imperfecta is a genetic disorder, it’s often caused by a mutation in the type 1 collagen genes. If no one else in the father’s family has OI, it’s likely to have stemmed from the maternal side.”
Dr. Vesper finishes up the appointment with a smile and a packet of information, and I sit there reeling. From low to high and low again, I wish I could find some footing in this wild, unsteady storm.
I mostly just cry, and when I manage to stop crying, it only takes one thought of Summer or Bennett or this little baby growing in my belly to start crying all over again.
Josie tries to comfort me on our way out and on the drive home, but the truth is, I need Bennett. I need him present and strong and back on his high horse talking some sense into me about all the silly decisions I make.
I need him to tell me that he loves me and that he wants me and that, no matter what happens, we’re going to go through it together.
He’s still on my mind when my phone rings with a call from Breezy as we’re pulling back into Josie’s driveway nearly forty minutes later.
“Hello?”
“Norah, honey, I need you to do me a favor. There’s a painting in Bennett’s studio I need you to go pick up for me. Believe it or not, I’ve convinced him to donate something to an auction happening next week, and I need it overnighted. I know this is a shaky time for the two of you, but do you think you can run over there today? We’re in a time crunch.”