Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
She thought of Rob again.
She was still thinking of him as the panel ahead of her slid back and she stepped through. Out in the lab proper, there were a whole lot of vacancies at the workstations, but a few stragglers remained hard at work in their white coats and their goggles and their computers. She was struck by an absurd desire to go over and hug them, one by one.
“No more battle-ax,” she murmured.
The clinic area, where Gus was going to treat her, was way down the line, the patient rooms and nuclear medicine equipment set away from the open area as well as the negative pressure labs. Gus’s office was also among this lineup, and she stopped at his door first. After her knock wasn’t answered, she went farther along, rounded the corner, and came to the treatment space she was going to be in.
Looking down at her thick socks, she felt as though she were stepping over a barrier, and once she was on the other side, there would be no returning.
She had rolled so many dice over so many years, and this was her final throw.
“Luck be a lady tonight,” she murmured as she pushed the door wide.
Gus was there, sitting at the built-in desk across from the hospital bed, the glow from the computer monitor casting blue light over the face she had come to rely on when she was feeling at loose ends. As usual, there was a lab report up on the screen, and she dreaded more testing.
Maybe he’d changed his mind about the results from the other facility and reversed his decision about not doing any more scans.
At this point, she was prepared to just consent away any risks and move on with it.
“I’m ready,” she said when he didn’t look over at her. “Hello? Gus. Are we starting or what?”
When he just shook his head at his screen, and then rubbed his eyes, a pit bottomed out in her stomach. In a hollow voice, she demanded, “What’s going on.”
“I need you to take a seat.”
“Okay.”
She started in his direction, but he shook his head. “Over there. Please.”
“Okaaaay.” Rerouting, she went across and sidled up onto the hospital bed. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
As her heart started to pound, she put her hand at the base of her throat and reminded herself that as far as bad news went, she’d maxed out on dire straits. There were no more breaking stories that could be worse than what she had already heard.
“I swear to God, St. Claire,” she snapped, “if you don’t start talking right now, I’m going to put my head through the wall.”
He turned around on his swivel chair and almost met her eyes. “You’re pregnant.”
C.P. blinked. Then shifted herself a little farther back on the mattress. “I’m sorry, what did you say.”
“You are pregnant.”
The words were spoken crisply, with enunciation worthy of an English professor. And yet she still didn’t understand them.
“You’re mistaken.” She shrugged. “I’m infertile.”
“Clearly not.” Gus’s eyes lowered to his hands and he cracked his knuckles one by one. “Needless to say, this changes everything.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m not pregnant.”
“As part of your work-up at MD Anderson, they tested your urine for a variety of things.”
“The test is wrong.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
As they went back and forth, the volley of their syllables rose in both speed and volume—and meanwhile, in the back of her head, a low-level scream started rising in pitch.
“Gus, someone messed up.”
“I seriously doubt it.” Now his eyes locked on hers. “And you have some very critical thinking to do.”
She put both her palms straight out, like she was stopping a speeding car. “After all the chemo I have had, over the course of my life, there is absolutely no way I’m pregnant.” When he just stared at her, she threw her hands up. “What. I’m not. So I don’t know what to… tell you.”
At that moment, she made a connection that chilled her to the bone. And as if Gus had been waiting for that one-plus-one to get to its equal sign, he once again looked away.
Her guard, Rob. Who had been killed last night.
“I’m not pregnant,” she said firmly. “Let’s run the test again.”
There was a sizable pause before Gus got to his feet. “Fine. But while I’m dipping the stick, I suggest you start thinking about what you’re going to do.”
“What do you mean, what-I’m-going-to-do. The test is going to be negative and then we’re going to finish whatever else you need to do so we can get moving.”
“Just so you and I are perfectly clear, I am not administering Vita-12b to a pregnant woman.” His dark eyes were grave. “I am also not advising you to get an abortion. That is none of my business.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. Because I’m—”
“Not pregnant.” He went over to the door. “We’ll see about that.”