He’s in his late sixties with salt and pepper hair and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He has the classic look of a grandfather out of a Hallmark movie, and that soothes my nerves.
“I assume you must be Ciara’s sister-in-law.” He flicks his eyes to the three brick walls behind me. “And these are?”
My cheeks burn.
“My husband is…overprotective.” I shoot Jace a glare, but he’s too busy scanning every corner of the sterile waiting room as though Sean O’Keefe is going to leap out from behind a potted plant.
“All right, then. Shall we go to my office?” He steps back to let me pass.
“Sure.”
I follow Dr. Rogers as he sets down the corridor of consulting rooms.
Jace appears at my side, ready to accompany me.
I’m about to tell him to stay put, but Dr. Rogers gets there before me.
“I’m sorry, but for privacy reasons, the consultation room is for the patient only.” Dr. Rogers keeps his tone polite but firm. “You’re welcome to wait in the waiting area.”
Jace bristles.
I can practically feel his finger twitching near his gun. But after a tense stare-down with the doctor, he agrees, though not before insisting on stepping inside the office first and sweeping the room like a crime scene.
“All clear,” he says gruffly before stepping out and leaving me alone with Dr. Rogers.
Finally, I feel like I can breathe. “Thank you.” I sink into the chair opposite Dr. Rogers’s desk. “I realize this is not a typical situation, and I appreciate your discretion.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Riley. I’m here to support you. Whatever you need, however you want to handle this, we’ll make it work.”
The kindness almost undoes me.
My throat tightens, but I nod quickly, clutching my bag in my lap like it’s an anchor.
“So, shall we get started?”
I nod, and Dr. Rogers smiles again before turning to face his computer and clicking open a new patient file.
He starts with the basics, asking about the date of my last period, any symptoms such as nausea and tiredness, as well as any spotting.
My voice wobbles slightly with every answer.
Everything feels surreal, like I’m floating just outside my own skin.
“Okay, now I’m going to get you to lie back on the table so I can conduct an ultrasound. We should be able to hear your baby’s heartbeat,” he smiles.
“Isn’t it too early? I’m only seven or eight weeks.”
“It is for a regular ultrasound, but I’m going to perform a transvaginal ultrasound. It’s used in early pregnancy to confirm the viability as well as the heartbeat.”
“Oh…okay.”
“It’s nothing to be worried about.”
I get myself situated on the table as Dr. Rogers readies all the equipment.
Suddenly, I wish that Kieran was here, that I had someone to hold my hand as the probe is inserted, and I anxiously wait to hear the sound of our baby’s heartbeat.
I close my eyes, bracing for the whooshing sound you always hear on, but what I hear instead is slower.
