“There’s no implant in your arm, Sophia,” Dr. Fallon explains. “The implant is small and has to be placed in a specific location for the best benefits. Your doctor should have felt of the site immediately afterward and ensured it had been inserted correctly. I don’t feel it anywhere in your arm, which leads me to believe it was either never fully inserted or it fell out immediately after the procedure.”
Sitting in stunned silence, the only recurring thought I have is that Dom will never believe me. He’ll think I lied about the whole thing just to trap him with a pregnancy. My anxiety is increasing by the moment.
Dr. Fallon makes some notations in my chart before returning her gaze to me. “Based on this information, you are somewhere between four to eight weeks pregnant, but I’m leaning more to the six-week timeframe. That’s probably why your menstrual cycle was lighter than usual during that time. Your obstetrician will be able to pinpoint a more exact time with an ultrasound.
“As far as everything else, you’re very fortunate that it’s soft tissue damage only. That takes a while to heal, too, but you’ll fully heal without a problem. You won’t feel like working for the next couple of weeks so I’ll give you a doctor’s excuse. Is there anything else you need?”
Yes, but you can’t help me with that, doc.
Shaking my head‘no,’I whisper, “Thank you.”
“It’ll take a little while for the discharge papers to be finished. Do you have a ride home?” she asks and then looks at the door to my room.
“Don’t tell him!” I whisper urgently to her as my swollen eyes dart between her and the door.
“I won’t, and I’ll tell the nurses to make sure to keep it quiet, too, when they review your discharge instructions,” she assures me as she walks to the door. Stopping, she faces me, suddenly suspicious, “Didhedo this to you?”
I aggressively shake my head from side to side and instantly regret it. “No. Saved me.”
Her demeanor softens as she considers my words. “He’s a good man, then. He’ll understand when you’re ready to tell him.”
I don’t have it in me to explain why Tucker isn’t the baby’s father or why he can’t find out that I’m pregnant yet. This situation just became so much more fucked up, so much harder to deal with, and so much more important to me in the span of two little words.
You’re pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
I may actually hyperventilate now.
Tucker appears at the door with a bag that he didn’t have with him before he left my room. I look at the bag and back up at him quizzically. Without saying a word, he knows what I’m asking him.
“Dana came by and brought you a change of clothes. She said she brought some pajamas that would be ‘suitable for the hospital,’ whatever the hell that means,” Tucker scrunches up his brow as he looks down at the bag in his hand. “She said there are some other things in here that you need, too. What did the doctor say?”
“Home,” I whisper my one-word answer to him. I’m going back to the condo, with a baby growing inside me, and no way to tell the father.
“Now?” he asks, surprise laces his tone and facial features. That’s an unusual reaction for Tucker, the normally calm, cool, and collected former military man.
I nod and hold out my hand for the bag. Tucker steps outside the door and closes it behind him so I can get dressed. Dana has impeccable taste in clothes and has sent the best possible pajama set for the hospital. The fabric blend of the light green set makes it flow freely against my skin. The nurse walks in just in time to remove my IV catheter and help me put my shirt on. She reviews the discharge information while Tucker is still in the hall, so I don’t have to worry about him hearing anything about making an OB/GYN appointment.
“Who will be responsible for driving you home today?” the nurse asks a standard protocol question. It should be easy to answer and is for most everyone else. When I don’t attempt to answer, she looks up at me and I shrug my shoulders. She quickly walks to the door and calls Tucker back inside. “Will you be taking Miss Vasco home today?” she asks him pointedly.
“Yes,” he responds and looks up at me for verification. Smiling at him in appreciation, I nod at him and move to stand up. Dana has also included matching house shoes with my clothes and the nurse helps steady me as I slide my feet in one at a time.
“Have a seat while I get the wheelchair, Miss Vasco,” she instructs. Turning to Tucker, she says, “Pull your vehicle up to the front door, under the awning. We’ll meet you there in a jiffy.”
Tucker obviously doesn’t want to leave me unattended even for a minute. He looks conflicted for a moment but he finally relents when I motion with my hands to shoo him away. “I’m okay,” I whisper to him.
He stands in the doorway until he sees the nurse returning with the wheelchair. “Here she comes. I don’t like leaving you, Sophia. But, it’s either here in your room or outside the hospital. I’d rather it be here if it has to be at all. Don’t leave without the nurse,” he levels me with his gaze.
“Okay,” I respond. After he leaves, I realize that my hand had instinctively covered my stomach while he was talking. His concern for my safety was evident in his voice and actions. My innate concern for my baby resulted in my unconscious effort to protect him.
It was never my intention to become pregnant. When I tell Dom, he’ll automatically think I’ve tried to trap him. He will doubt that it’s his baby. Knowing these things is one thing. When it actually happens, when he actually accuses me of it and turns me and our baby away, will be another thing.Thatwill be the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. That will be my twenty on a scale of one to ten.
Holy shit. I’m pregnant!
