My head spun to look at Frank. I know I looked shocked. He, on the other hand, looked like how I imagined him to on the day he got that check for his land.
“Oh my Lord,” he said.
“Dr. Gold, you know I can’t get pregnant.”
He shrugged. “Evidently you can.”
“Dr. Gold,” I said. “I’m forty years old.”
“Indeed you are,” he said, “which is why we’re going to need to monitor you extra closely to make sure this pregnancy goes well. We’ll need to go ahead and get some initial blood work.…”
He was still talking, but I couldn’t even hear him.Pregnant. I didn’t know how to feel. After twenty years of knowing I would never be a mother, of knowing this would never happen for me, it seemed impossible, like the obvious truth wouldn’t set in.
Frank hugged and kissed me and said, “I think we’ve finally got it right, babe.”
We walked out into the parking lot, and I put together the first coherent words since I’d heard the news: “They ought to put some sort of warning sign on that sand dune.”
CHAPTER 17
gray: bitter divorcée territory
The bar at the Spectator was utter perfection. Trey had invited me out with some friends of his who lived in Charleston, but I wanted to get some rest. I was feeling up to eating and drinking again, so I decided to pop down to the hotel bar and grab a cocktail. I felt terribly guilty because Diana had texted that she had been struck down by the throw-up bug too. This one was intense. I hoped Trey didn’t get it—or Heather, for that matter.
When I glanced down to seeWe need to talkpop up on my phone later, I assumed it was from Andrew. My heart felt a little heavy, but then I saw it was from my sister. This was her turf, but surely she didn’t know I was here. I’d done a couple of Instagram posts, but, as one could imagine, Pastor Elijah didn’t allow social media.
I flicked my phone across the bar. I caught the bartender’s eye and said, “Yeah. I’m definitely going to need another.”
“So, rough day?” I heard a voice beside me say.
I laughed. “Oh, you know, just family drama.”
I turned to look at the man the voice was attached to. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. Super handsome, but maybe his nose was a little too—oh my gosh! It was Mr. Corporate Takeover.
“I know you,” he said. He took a sip of his beer, smiling, and said, “From that boring party at the beach. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”
I shrugged. “Oh yeah?” I asked coyly, as if I hadn’t noticed.
“Price,” he said.
“Gray.”
He raised his eyebrow. “As inFifty Shades?”
“Sometimes,” I said seriously.
We both laughed.
The bartender handed me a glass, and Price said, “Add that one to my tab.”
I smiled. “Well, thank you, sir.”
I could feel myself getting kind of nervous. If he was buying my drink, then that meant he kind of liked me. And if he kind of liked me, then this might be kind of a date. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Drinking. Same as you.”
I smirked, and he smiled at me. “No, I actually have an investment property here—I live between Raleigh and Cape Carolina, but I come down here a couple weeks a year to check on it.”
“That’s awesome,” I said.
