Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
I go still. “Is that…?”
“The heartbeat?” the doctor says. “Yes, it is.”
Goosebumps break out over my arms while fuzzy warmth spreads through my chest.
“First time you hear it?” the doctor asks, frowning through the smile that seems to be a permanent fixture on her face.
Unable to speak past the lump in my throat, I nod.
She must assume Saverio and I are a couple, because she addresses him in a chastising tone. “She should’ve already had this exam. Not bringing her earlier was very careless of you, Sav. Unless complications develop, I want to see her at least once a month. We need to monitor her weight and blood pressure. I’ll schedule the appointments and get my secretary to send you the dates.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I say quickly.
“Do it,” Saverio tells the doctor, ignoring me.
What the hell is he doing? Judging by the prime location and the luxurious furniture of her consultation room, I’ll never be able to afford her charges.
Before I can object, the doctor tells me that everything looks fine and that I can get dressed. I escape to the changing room while Saverio and the doctor converse in serious, quiet voices.
When I step out a couple of minutes later, Saverio waits outside the door. He’s no doubt playing guard dog, making sure I don’t let anything slip to the doctor.
I walk awkwardly next to him to the reception area where the doctor waits. She’s taken off the overcoat, exposing a purple halter neck top that’s embroidered with diamanté detail. We definitely dragged her away from a fancy social event.
“I’ll see you soon,” she says, shaking Saverio’s hand.
I won’t be back here, but I don’t correct her. With a sudden bout of exhaustion crashing down on me, I don’t have the energy to explain. The adrenaline from the shock that fueled me earlier must be wearing off.
I open my bag and take out my credit card, already calculating for how long I’m going to pay off this visit—with interest—when Saverio locks his fingers around my wrist.
I look up at his face.
“There’s no need for that,” he says.
My pride won’t allow me to let him pay. “Oh, no.” The idea that the doctor must be able to tell she’s way out of my league by the inexpensive brand of my clothes makes me wince with embarrassment. Her outfit screams designer label. The ensemble must be worth more than I earn in a year. “I’ll get this.”
The doctor seems amused. “I don’t handle the payments.” She makes it sound as if it’s beneath her to deal with credit cards and checks. “My secretary will send the invoice to Sav.”
I keep quiet, but I have no intention of letting Saverio pay for my ob-gyn visit even though he forced it on me.
The doctor sees us out, a whiff of her expensive perfume following us into the lobby.
Saverio’s driver waits in the street.
Unsettled, I say nothing as Saverio seats me next to him in the back. I’m relieved when he pulls out his phone and replies to emails or whatever for the entire ride home.
Despite my protest, he accompanies me inside my building. The fact that he held onto my key doesn’t escape me.
Once we’re in my apartment, he orders in a brusque voice, “Go have a shower.”
I stop in the middle of crossing the floor. “Why?”
“Go have a shower, Anya. Make it quick. We need to disinfect those cuts on your back, and then you need to rest.”
Too tired to fight him on this too, I go to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I do need a shower. I want to scrub everything away that’s happened today. I can’t even think about Mr. Lewis. Not yet. As long as Saverio is keeping watch in my apartment, I need my wits about me. There will be enough time to break down later.
After a quick shower, I pull my leggings and T-shirt back on. Walking gingerly to the bedroom door, I say a quiet prayer when I open it, but the gods don’t have mercy on me. Saverio sits at the kitchen table, reading something on his phone. A spread of food is laid out in front of him.
He gets to his feet. “Feeling better?”
I look at the boxes on which the name of a famous Italian restaurant in Brooklyn is printed. “What’s this?”
He pulls out a chair. “You need to eat. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got everything on the menu.”
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. “You must be kidding me.”
“Anya,” he says with a warning in his tone.
“You took me to see a doctor, and now you’re feeding me?”
His eyes tighten. “Sit down.”
The smell of cheese and garlic turns my stomach. I place a hand over my belly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”