Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Well, I was just a broke bitch before I met you so I have years of experience when it comes to doing things like this for myself.”
“For having years of experience, you’re not very good at it. There’s more polish on your skin than the actual nail.”
Realizing how much this was probably making him twitch, I laughed and accidentally dabbed the red polish on my foot. “Oopsy. Will you look at that?”
“Rayne.”
I looked up at him with feigned innocence. “What? I slipped.”
“Give me that.” He took the polish and lifted my foot to rest on his lap. “You’ve mangled them.”
When he sniffed the nail polish, I laughed. “You know I struggle with the girlie things, Hale.”
He dunked the brush and wiped away the messy spots on my skin. “I think it’s more about concentration than being girlie.” He focused on painting clean, straight strokes with my nailbed.
I wiggled my toes.
“Hey. Stop that.”
“What was your surprise?”
He never broke concentration. “I made us an appointment.”
“For?”
“There’s a world-renowned reproductive specialist here in the city. We have a consultation with one of the doctors this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Usually, Hale had great surprises. This one felt more like an oil change.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m just surprised.”
“Well, I said it was a surprise.”
“Yeah, but…” We were having such a nice getaway, I dreaded spoiling it with bad news. “Is that why you came here?”
He stopped painting my toenails. “Rayne, I thought you’d be excited about this. She’s one of the best fertility specialists in the country. It’s not an easy appointment to get on short notice, but if you don’t want to go, we can cancel it.”
If that was true, we couldn’t cancel now. Then we might get blackballed and never get an appointment again. “Is it a doctor’s office just for women?”
“No, they see men, too.”
“So, we’re both going?”
“Of course. I wasn’t going to send you there alone. We’re planning for our family.”
“So…if they want to run some tests on you…?”
“I’ll do whatever they need me to do.”
I smiled, pleased with his effort. Even though his test probably came down to filling a cup. Why was it women got ‘a little pressure’ and men got an orgasm when it came to fertility tests?
He squeezed my ankles. “Hey. Relax. We’re just going to hear them out and get some information. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“What time’s the appointment?”
He looked at his watch. “We have to be there in an hour.”
“Hale!” I shot off the couch. “I’ll never be ready!”
“Watch the carpet. Your nails are wet.”
“Exactly! I can’t shower now.”
“So don’t.”
“Hello? Are you new? Lady doctors check everything! I still reek of boduissy!”
“What the hell is boduissy?”
“Boduissy! Booty, dick, and pussy!”
Laughter belted out of him. “So go shower.”
I growled and waddled toward the bathroom. “So much for my pedicure.”
An hour later, we were sitting in a sterile, Ikea-style waiting room. The place smelled of opposition, mixed levels of hope, and privilege. I wouldn’t exactly call it welcoming or homey. There was a super-enlarged baby poster on the wall. What did it say about me if I found that kind of closeup creepy?
Elara could totally be a model. She was way cuter than any of the kids plastered on the walls here.
“Mr. and Mrs. Davenport?”
Hale stood and took my hand, raising a brow when he felt how clammy my fingers were. I don’t know why I was so nervous.
What was wrong with my doctor at home? Sure, he was about a decade past retirement, and his bedside manner had room for improvement, but these New York doctors intimidated me.
“Dr. Seacrest is waiting for you,” the nurse said, directing us toward a scale. “I just need both your weights and a quick urine sample from Mrs. Davenport.”
That was easy enough with my nervous bladder. I accepted the cup while Hale got on the scale. His weight never fluctuated more than half a pound. Mine, on the other hand, yo-yoed all over the place on a weekly basis.
The one time I needed to pee in a straight stream urine came spraying out of me like a sprinkler. After washing my hands and tightening the lid over a few salvageable drops of urine, I returned to the hall. The nurse took the cup and instructed me to step on the scale.
I glared over my shoulder at Hale. “Turn around.”
He pivoted, and I read the scale. Yikes. That was quite a few pounds higher than I was used to weighing. “Are you sure this is right?”
Hale laughed, and I glanced down to find his foot on the corner of the scale.
I smacked his shoulder. “Jerk!”
When he lifted his foot, the scale settled back to my usual weight -- plus ten. Which was normal. I guess.
“Perfect. Come with me.” The nurse led us into an office rather than a patient room, and a beautiful woman with dark, curly hair rose from behind a white veneer desk.