“Are you afraid of shots?” I ask, surprised by his reaction.
“I fucking hate needles.” Dr. Levinstein doesn’t even warn him before he hit him in the arm. Baz groans as he clenches his jaw, the color in his cheeks draining.
“You have a tattoo. How did you survive that?”
“Lots of alcohol,” he retorts.
“The pediatrician used to have to chase him around the office,” Frederick reminisces. “Baz was quite the rambunctious child.”
“So I’ve been told.” I can’t help but smile as I rub my thumb back and forth over my belly. My tunic shirt hiding the small bulge for now.
Dr. Levinstein removes his latex gloves, places them in a plastic bag, and then discards them in his medical bag before clearing his throat.
“Frederick, can I have a moment alone with Benjamin and . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name, young lady.”
“Stevie,” I offer.
“Stevie,” he politely repeats.
“Of course. Is there anything I can get anyone before I go?”
I run through a laundry list of things in my mind. Food, water, sanity, a shower, bed, ten fluffy pillows, and a week of uninterrupted sleep. But I think that’s a bit much to ask, so I just shake my head.
I watch Frederick leave the room, preparing for whatever news Dr. Levinstein is going to give
about Baz.
He looks at me pointedly. “How far along are you?”
“Excuse me?” I glance nervously between him and Baz.
“How many months pregnant?” he clarifies, speaking slowly so I understand.
“How how’d you know I was pregnant?” I ask, alarmed.
“Because I have been a doctor longer than you have been alive. I recognize the signs. You haven’t stopped clutching your belly since I’ve been here.” I look down at my abdomen, not even realizing what I’d been doing. “Is it yours?” the straightforward doctor asks Baz.
“Of course, it’s mine. Stevie is my fiancée.” Baz nearly bites his head off.
“Just fact checking.” Levinstein isn’t put off by Baz. “I hadn’t heard of your engagement.”
“We haven’t announced anything yet. Things have been a little turbulent lately,” Baz informs him guardedly.
“I see.” Levinstein pushes his glasses up his nose. “Have you been examined?”
I drop my eyes. “No, I haven’t seen a doctor yet.” I wrap my arms protectively around my stomach. That’s the worst news to deliver. I know how neglectful it sounds, but it’s not like I had the luxury to just call up and make an appointment like a normal woman. I’m not normal.
“Mmm,” the doctor muses. “Do you have any idea how far along you are?”
“About six months. We conceived early November.”
“You’re positive?” He raises his thick eyebrows.
I sneak another glance at Baz. “One hundred percent.” I’m pretty sure he knocked me up the first time we had sex.
“Do you mind if I do a quick examination?” he inquires delicately.
“No.” I don’t object at all.
