Page 59 of Bombshell

“Yes, but they don’t know everything,” he says significantly, guessing the real question that I’m asking. “They are very discreet here.”

My relief is short-lived because the door opens and a doctor steps into the room.

“Miss MacLaine, I’m Doctor Thompson. It’s nice to see you’re awake. You must be feeling rested.”

I think she means it as a joke, but it falls so flat I swear I hear it thud against the tiled floor.

“Mr. MacLaine?” she asks Felix.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m Felix, her…”

“Uncle,” I butt in, afraid she’ll make him leave.

“Well, then, Uncle Felix we’re going to be doing some tests and…”

“I’ll step into the hall,” Felix offers, before he can be asked.

I want to stop him. I want to beg him not to leave me. But the word tests has me frozen in place. What kind of tests? How hard did I hit my head? I wiggle my toes, relieved to feel them.

“The baby is okay?” I press once I’m alone with Doctor Thompson.

“We’re going to check on that.” She flips through some paperwork, furrowing her brow as she reads notes, and then checks the monitors. As she does, a nurse wheels a cart into the room. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

I force myself to nod, reminding myself of the strong heartbeat on the other monitor. The doctor applies some blue gel to my stomach and fiddles with the machine, typing and adjusting.

“There we are,” she says, turning the screen to face me. “Everything looks alright, but let’s just take a closer look to be sure.”

The last time I’d had an ultrasound the baby resembled a wiggling gummy bear. Now? There’s no doubt that it’s a baby. “Is it a…”

“Would you like to know?” she asks kindly.

I nod.

“A nice little break from all this troublesome business, I think. It’s been a while since I did this,” she warns me. “Let’s see if I can do it. If not, we’ll call someone down.”

I wonder how much my father is paying for the first class treatment I’m clearly receiving. I peer at the screen, looking for any clues, but I have no idea what I’m looking at. Some things are obvious, a head and legs and arms, but as she zeros in, I find I can’t make sense of anything.

“Well, that’s clear as day.”

“What is?” It looks like a mess to me.

She draws a line on the monitor, followed by two more. “Congratulations. It’s a girl.”

A girl. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Apparently, I’m not dried up, after all. I’m not sure why it matters. I don’t suspect I’d have a different reaction if she’d told me I was carrying a boy. My dream flashes to mind. Sterling said she like he knew somehow. I have to remind myself that didn’t happen. It wasn’t real. Sterling doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. And yet…

“And she looks perfectly healthy,” Dr. Thompson says after measuring a few more things. I can’t tear my eyes away as she continues her inspection, pointing out what she’s looking at along the way. She falls silent, and I’m so preoccupied that I don’t notice until I realize she’s focusing on a large black spot on the screen.

“What is it?” I ask when the silence continues. I try to stretch my neck to see what she’s looking at better.

She turns, offering me a reassuring smile. “There is a slight Subchorionic hematoma.”

My heart stops beating for the longest second of my life. “What does that mean?”

“First, it is quite mild and not a definitive cause for concern. It appears the placenta has detached slightly from the uterus, just enough to allow some blood to gather there. It’s a bit like a pocket. The good news is that it’s very small.”

“And the bad?” I can barely ask. How can she be perfectly healthy if this has happened?

“You might experience some bleeding, and we should keep an eye on it. You’ll need to be very careful. Bedrest might be necessary at some point. We will monitor you and the baby very closely. I’m going to recommend you remain in London until you give birth, particularly given that injury to your tailbone.”