Stop it.
But there’s something about having him here that makes the room feel less clinical. Less scary. Like as long as he’s standing there, solid and steady and present, nothing too terrible can happen. It’s infuriating how much I don’t hate it.
I drag my gaze away from him and fix it on the poster beside the door. A rainbow gradient background and big, blocky letters: YOUR HEALTH IS YOUR WEALTH. There’s a smiling cartoon heart in the corner, like it personally endorses preventive care.
Across from me, temptation in a suit clears his throat.
“You okay?” Jake asks.
I tear my eyes away from the poster and back to him. His phone is still in his hand, but he’s not looking at it. He’s looking at me. Really looking at me. Eyes soft, forehead slightly creased, like he’s trying to gauge if I’m about to keel over.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just ready to get out of here.”
“I know.” He glances at his screen again. “Won’t be much longer.”
He scrolls, thumb moving in lazy strokes, then pauses. “Says here dizziness can be caused by low blood sugar, dehydration, stress…” His gaze lifts to mine. “Have you been drinking enough water?”
I make a face. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“That might be it. Combined with not eating enough and the stress of the contract signing.”
The fact that he’s googling my symptoms is annoyingly sweet. “You don’t have to stay, you know,” I tell him. “I’m fine to wait by myself.”
“I know I don’t have to.” He slips his phone into his pocket and gives me his full attention. “I want to.”
Something in my chest does a small, traitorous flip. My brain immediately hyper-focuses on every detail. The watch on his wrist—expensive but understated, the kind chosen by a man who knows how much it costs and doesn’t need anyone else to. The way his fingers tap absently against his thigh when he’s thinking. Those hands. Strong, capable, steady. I remember those hands on my skin, in my hair, on my hips, holding me down and holding me together and?—
The door opens, mercifully cutting off that mental highlight reel.
Dr. Patel steps in with her tablet, smiling. “Okay, good news,” she says. “Blood work looks normal. Your blood sugar’s a little on the lower end, which explains the dizziness. You’ll want to eat more regularly, but that should happen naturally.”
“Naturally?” I repeat.
“Well, yes.” She glances at the tablet again. “Since you’re pregnant, I’m surprised your appetite hasn’t increased already. Most women start eating more as they head into the second trimester.”
The world stops. Everything inside me goes still. Like someone took my entire reality and just hit pause.
“I’m…what?” The words scrape out of my throat, barely there.
Dr. Patel’s smile falters just a fraction. “Pregnant,” she repeats gently.
“Pregnant?” I echo automatically—except the voice that says it isn’t mine. It’s Jake’s. He sounds like he’s been shoved off a cliff and is still waiting to hit the ground. The voice in my head, however, is screamingWhat the actual fuckon a loop.
Dr. Patel looks between us, then back at her tablet. “Based on your HCG levels, I’d say you’re around twelve weeks,” she continues. “You’re headed into your second trimester.”
Twelve weeks.
My brain is spinning, cataloging, trying to make sense of this. Pregnant. Twelve weeks. How did I not know?
My weight hasn’t changed. My stomach is still flat. There’s no bump. No obvious sign. I teach yoga three times a week. I would have noticed.
Morning sickness? I’ve been nauseous, sure, but I chalked that up to stress and nerves about the deal. And my period. Oh God, my period. When was the last time I had one? I try to remember, scrolling back through my mental calendar. There was that light bleeding in August. I thought it was my period. It was short, barely there, but I didn’t question it because my cycle has never been reliable.
I’ve been so busy. Pitching. Rewriting. Meeting with Victoria. Celebrating the FlixPix deal. I didn’t even notice I’d missed it. Didn’t think twice about it. How did I not see this?
“That’s not possible,” I say. It comes out flat. Distant. Like someone else is speaking from somewhere very far away.
“I know it can be a shock,” Dr. Patel says. “But the test isvery accurate.” She taps something on her screen. “Twelve weeks would put conception around…early July?
