“Good. We’ll see you soon. Come right into the office. We’ll be waiting for you.” The woman hung up abruptly.
Zoe Google'd the address and moaned. Park Avenue again. This time she dressed in a designer summer shift she’d stolen for a song from the thrift store.
Hands was waiting for her outside the building. She hadn’t seen him since she’d dodged him at the therapists, and from the look on his face, he still hadn’t forgiven her.
Zoe groaned. “Did Olivia call you?”
He nodded brusquely and opened the car door.
A faint sheen of sweat covered her body when another series of cramps hit her. Hands was beside her, helping her into the car. She gave him a grateful smile, but his lips tightened in response.
As he pulled into traffic, he frowned at her through the rearview mirror. “Jack will kill me when he finds out I didn’t call him.”
“He doesn’t care,” Zoe said, resting her head against the leather headrest.
Hands snorted. “Want my advice?”
Zoe attempted a smile. “Not really, but I bet you’re going to give it to me anyway.”
Hands darted in and out of lanes with amazing efficiency. “Yeah, I am. You two should talk it out. You look like crap and so does Jack. Anything that hurts that bad has gotta be love.”
He didn’t know how wrong he was.
“It’s a little more complicated than that. We don’t even know each other.” Except in bed. She left that part out.
“He needs you.”
“I know, I know. We mated for life. We can’t ever be with anyone else again–” She sighed.
Hands drove in silence for a while, looking way too often in his rearview mirror.
“He’s following me again, isn’t he?”
He nodded grimly. “I lost him. Don’t worry.”
Her stomach cramped again and she closed her eyes.
Hand pulled up beside the now familiar Park Avenue address.
“Don’t wait for me, these appointments take some time.”
“No can do. Call me when you’re done.” He frowned, and looked over the rim of his dark sunglasses. “Not like last time.”
She breezed into the same building where Diane had her office, signed her name with the same guard, and exited onto the fourth floor. From there, a receptionist ushered her into a small, tidy examination room and asked her to change into a paper gown.
Within minutes a lovely, if somewhat distraught, brown-skinned woman entered. “Hi Zoe. I’m Dr. Abrams.”
Zoe squirmed. The paper on the examination table crinkled under her. She hated doctors, even pleasant and lovely ones.
The doctor smiled sweetly and indicated that Zoe should lie back. “Let’s just take a look. Usually solstice pregnancies are very strong. I’ll need to examine you.”
The doctor pushed and prodded, and took all sorts of blood samples while Zoe lay on the very uncomfortable table. She began to worry more when the doctor left her alone for what seemed like forever.
A nurse came in with all smiles and started asking genealogical questions. Most, she couldn’t answer. When she mentioned that she thought her grandmother was from the healing clan, the nurse lost her bedside manner for a moment and stared with her mouth open.
“You’re a mixed breed?”
“I guess.” Zoe frowned.
