Page 72 of Cross Me

“I can’t wait until you have yours. Are you finding out?” I asked her.

“I bloody well will be,” she said. “I have a lot of shopping to do!”

“Is the placenta okay?” I asked Dr. Ball, worried that we would have a repeat of my pregnancy with Elizabeth.

Dr. Ball looked up, startled, and stared for a moment, before quickly nodding. “It’s anterior. You won’t have felt much movement, I expect.”

That explained it, but it didn’t explain why he looked so worried.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, no longer caring about the placenta.

“I’m not certain,” he admitted. He spent the next few minutes moving the wand around and zooming in on the baby. With each second that passed, my panic ratcheted up a level, until he finally swiveled around. “I’d like you to see a specialist.”

“What’s wrong?” I pressed. Belle’s hand tightened over mine and I clutched it like a lifeline.

“There’s a slight irregularity with the baby’s heart. It might be nothing, but it should be looked into.”

Tears swelled in my throat, and I choked out the one question I needed answered. “Is the baby going to be okay?”

“The baby is healthy. It might be nothing, but I’d rather be cautious. I can make a few calls and get you in to see a specialist.”

“Can I go after hours?” I asked softly. “I’d rather not have people speculating…”

“I understand. I know a doctor who will see to your absolute privacy,” he reassured me. He paused and offered me a warm smile. “I don’t want you worrying about this. I see nothing to suggest we have a serious concern.”

“What if it is serious?” I wanted to face the worst case scenario now rather than imagine what it could be. “What could we do?”

“Medicine has come a very long way. If surgery is necessary, we can perform it immediately upon birth. Believe me, knowing what, if anything, is wrong will make a difference.”

I stared at the monitor where our child moved freely, oblivious to the world waiting for him, and wished I could keep him there, safe and protected. “Can I have a minute?”

“Of course. I’ll need to…”

I nodded that it was okay and said a silent goodbye as he shut off the monitor. He reached down and handed me a few printed pictures. Hesitating at the door, he turned, “It’s really quite normal to have little abnormalities pop up during a scan and then discover it was nothing.”

I pressed my lips into a grim smile. It wasn’t always nothing. The second the door closed, the tears I’d been holding down broke free. Belle moved to sit next to me and circled me in a tight hug. She didn’t try to calm me down with empty words or reassurances. She just let me cry. Sometimes that was all a best friend could do.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ALEXANDER

I was in no mood for political drama. I’d spent the last few nights sharing a bed with Clara in a frustratingly puritanical fashion. She was asleep when I turned in and gone when I woke up. Her meals were spent with Edward or Belle or alone. We’d barely spoken more than twenty words to one another since I’d revealed the truth about Anders. I was determined to give her space, but if she appreciated it, I didn’t know. She certainly hadn’t told me. Meanwhile, I had the fucking privilege of sitting through unproductive meetings and accomplishing nothing. I was trapped in a cycle of doing nothing and saying nothing, which left me feeling bloody hopeless.

“The Prime Minister has arrived,” Norris informed me.

“You aren’t my secretary,” I snapped. “Shouldn’t you be protecting someone?”

“At the moment, the only person in danger is you,” he said in an even voice.

I placed the bait on the hook and dangled it, angling for a fight. “Oh really?”

“In danger of making an ass of yourself.” He tugged at his suit jacket without blinking. “Shall I show the Prime Minister in?”

“Please,” I said through gritted teeth. Norris wasn’t going to fight with me and, in my experience, Prime Minister Clark was more likely to roll over and take it than defend himself.

The whole situation left me feeling twitchy. I’d tried to do the right thing and give Clara what she wanted. I’d fucked up plenty, but it wasn’t as though I was keeping a secret to hurt her. It was the opposite. I’d accepted she would be angry with me when I finally decided to tell her, but her silent show of disappointment was so much worse.

The Prime Minister showed up in my office looking as though he’d swallowed a rotten egg. I wasn’t fond of these meetings either, but this was extreme. He took a seat across from me and cleared his throat ominously.