But knowing he was out there—just beyond that door, sitting in one of those uncomfortable waiting room chairs, probably not reading the magazines, probably just… waiting—made this feel different.
Made it feelrealin a way the egg retrieval hadn’t.
I pressed my hands flat against my thighs and tried to breathe.
The door was cracked open. I could hear voices in the hallway—Dr. Beaumont’s calm, professional tone and someone else. A nurse, maybe.
“—look like different Landrys,” the nurse was saying, her voice uncertain. “Are we using both, or?—”
“That’s not your concern.” Dr. Beaumont’s voice cut through, sharp and immediate. “The vials are labeled correctly. That’s all you need to know.”
“I just thought?—”
“Don’t think. Do your job.”
Silence.
Then footsteps.
I stared at the ceiling tiles, my heart suddenly pounding.
Different Landrys?
What did that mean?
Were there… other samples? Backup samples?
I tried to process it, tried to make sense of what I’d just heard, but my mind felt sluggish and slow. Maybe the nurse didn’t know what she was talking about. Maybe it was a labeling thing. Maybe?—
The door opened.
Dr. Beaumont walked in, her expression calm and composed, like the conversation in the hallway had never happened. Behind her, a nurse wheeled in a small cart with instruments I didn’t want to look at too closely.
“How are we feeling?” Dr. Beaumont asked, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.
“Nervous,” I admitted.
“That’s normal.” She smiled—professional, reassuring, the kind of smile that was supposed to make you feel safe. “This is a quick procedure. You’ll feel some pressure, maybe a little cramping, but nothing like the retrieval. And then we wait.”
I nodded.
She moved to the end of the table, adjusting the stirrups slightly. “Scoot down for me.”
I did.
The vulnerability of the position hit me all over again—legs spread, pussy out, completely at the mercy of someone else’s hands.
“Deep breath,” Dr. Beaumont said.
I inhaled.
The speculum was cold. I felt it slide in, felt the pressure as she adjusted it, opening me wider. My hands gripped the edges of the exam table.
“You’re doing great,” the nurse said from somewhere to my left.
I didn’t feel great.
I felt like I was being split open.
