Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“He doesn’t think you’re the one,” Raelyn says. “He thinks the woman he spent the night with is the one.”
“Which is me,” I counter. “I didn’t lie about anything. We talked and danced and then went into that room and had sex multiple times, and in between the sex, we talked some more. I might’ve been vague, but I never lied. I need to tell him. It’s like fate.”
Raelyn shakes her head. “I think you’re making a big mistake, but you know I’ll support you regardless.”
I pull her into a hug. “Thank you. I’m going to book a flight. My sister and her husband are taking the kids to Disney for spring break before she gets too pregnant. It’ll be the perfect time to go there and talk to Lincoln without them around.”
“Do it after practice,” she says. “We need to go, or we’ll be late.”
I glance at the clock and see that she’s right. Even though it’s Sunday, we’re meeting with our group to go over our routine for the end-of-the-year showcase. With all of us being busy with our final year of classes, we practice several evenings during the week and on Sundays. This showcase is a big deal for many students looking to begin their careers post-college. Since my plan has always been to teach dance with my sister, the showcase is simply my final grade in order to graduate.
“Alright, from the top.”
The music starts, and we all move into position. We’ve been at this for hours, and I’m sweaty, thirsty, and have a splitting headache, but since nobody else is complaining, I keep my mouth shut.
We go through it once more before Miguel suggests we break into smaller groups to go over the transitions. Because the last part of the routine had me on the floor, I stand, but when a bout of nausea hits me, I find myself sitting back down.
“Ellie, are you okay?” Raelyn asks, handing me my jug of water as everyone stops and watches to make sure I’m good.
“Yeah, I think I’m just thirsty.” I take a large sip of water and then go to stand again, but when I do, blackness shrouds my vision and I wobble on my feet.
Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but I can feel it.
My body is weak, my bones and muscles feel like Jell-O.
I try to open my eyes, but everything is swirling around me, as if the room is spinning. And then everything goes black.
“You have an iron deficiency,” the doctor says, “which has led to pregnancy anemia.”
I eye him in confusion, wondering what the hell he’s talking about. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Because I’m pretty sure he has the wrong patient being that in order to have pregnancy anemia, the person would actually have to be pregnant.
His brows furrow. “According to the blood work, you have a severe iron deficiency which has caused pregnancy anemia. Luckily, we’ve caught it quickly. But I noticed you didn’t put down who your obstetrician is, so we’ll need to...”
He glances up at me and must see the shock in my features, because his eyes go wide. “You didn’t know you were pregnant, did you?”
I shake my head slowly, trying to wrap my head around what he’s saying.
I’m pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
Holy, motherfucking shit. I’m pregnant.
“I’m sorry,” he says, wincing. “It’s been a busy day, and I wasn’t thinking.” He scrubs his forehead. “Let me start over.” He sits in the chair Raelyn just vacated, who left to go find us some food. “According to the bloodwork, you’re pregnant.”
“Is it...” I clear my throat. “Is it possible you have the wrong patient?” I glance over at his chart. “I’m Eliza Bardot.”
He looks down at his chart and back up. “Yes, I have the right patient, and based on your hCG levels, I’m guessing you’re probably around six weeks pregnant.”
“Okay.” I nod emphatically, trying like hell not to freak the fuck out. “Is it possible the tests got mixed up? Like, maybe my bloodwork got mixed up with someone else’s and now some poor woman who was hoping to be pregnant has no idea that she actually is?”
The corner of the doctor’s mouth twitches, but he has the good manners to keep it in check. “It’s possible,” he says, “but not likely. However, since you weren’t aware of your pregnancy, we can do a transvaginal ultrasound to confirm. How does that sound?”
I nod again as I try to take in what he’s saying.
Pregnancy.
Ultrasound.
Anemia.
What the hell is going on? “I thought I was just thirsty,” I whisper.
“That’s because of the anemia,” he says. “You were a bit dehydrated, so we’re giving you fluids.” He points to the bag of dripping liquid that’s flowing into my IV.
“I’ll put the order in,” he continues, “and then once we’ve confirmed your pregnancy, we’ll discuss the anemia.”