She finally raises her eyes and they are filled with embarrassment and hurt. “Y – you would?”
“In a heartbeat,” I insist. “I just don't think it would be fair to you to do this. Not while somebody else is occupying my thoughts. You deserve more and better than that.”
A thin smile touches her lips, but at least I see some of the embarrassment draining from her eyes.
“Yeah, I do, don't I?” she says with a laugh.
“You most certainly do.”
We stand together for a moment and I feel the awkwardness seeping away, which is a relief. The last thing I want, or need is for things to be strained between me and my nurse. That could lead to a less efficient operating theater and diminish the chances of saving a patient – which is priority number one for me here. Not hooking up. I'm not lying though. If not for Alexis, I'd be all over Sandra. She's a knockout. She just pales in comparison to the gorgeous redhead that fills my every waking thought.
“Alexis, huh?” she asks.
I nod. “Alexis.”
“She's a very lucky girl.”
I pick my glass back up and drain it. “That remains to be seen.”
“Nah. If she doesn't appreciate you, she's a fool, Duncan,” she says.
There's another prolonged silence between us, but this time it seems far more companionable. The tension has faded and we're suddenly just a couple of friends sharing a space.
“So, we're okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Of course.”
“No residual weirdness?”
She laughs again. “We're good. Promise,” she assures me. “I'm a big girl. I can take my lumps with the best of them.”
“Once again proving that you're quite remarkable.”
Her cheeks flare with color and she smiles at me. “So, listen, if things don't work out back home with Alexis, just give me a call.”
I laugh. “I'll do that.”
She leaves a few minutes later and I let out a long breath of relief knowing that could have gone a lot worse than it did. After she goes, I pour myself another drink and drop down into my chair. I put my feet up on the desk and sip my scotch as I admire the picture of Alexis once more.
Suddenly I can’t wait to get home to see her. To make her mine.
Eleven
Alexis
I climb the stairs to my apartment after another long day at work. Thankfully, the nausea has loosened its grip on me over the past couple of weeks. Now, it's just dealing with the cretins I'm forced to work with. At least today was less shitty than the typical day. Thank God.
Most of the partners were huddled behind closed doors, working on some big case together. That kept Tyler out of my face for the vast majority of the day. It was a really nice – and much needed – reprieve from his unending stream of vile remarks and disgusting innuendo.
I step into our apartment and close the door behind me, grateful to be able to shut the world out for a while. I can already feel my stress and tension melting away. Bri is sitting on the couch talking on the phone – probably to Dom.
“I'll call you back, babe,” she says, confirming my thought.
She hangs up the phone and turns to look at me. “You didn't need to hang up on my account.”
“We need to talk,” she says.
I chuckle nervously. “You breaking up with me?”
She doesn't laugh. Doesn't even crack a smile, which ratchets up the tension in my shoulders once more. The first thought that fires through my mind is that she and Dom are going to be moving in together – that she's either leaving this place or is going to ask me to leave. Our place just isn't big enough for three people. That thought sends a rush of ice through my veins. I can't afford this place on my own, nor can I really afford most anything else in this goddamn city.
I walk over and drop down into the recliner to the right of the couch, I realize that she's not going to be moving in with Dom – at least, not yet – but what she wants to talk about is far worse. As she picks up the pregnancy kit test box, my stomach churns and my heart starts thundering inside of me.
I silently curse myself for throwing it in the bathroom cupboard instead of hiding it in my room. Which makes me feel like an absolute idiot. I'm a grown woman, not some teenage girl. I shouldn't have to hide anything in my own home. But Sabrina holds the box up and gives me a look – which makes me feel like a scared teenage girl all over again.
“You haven't taken it yet, so I'm guessing you still don't know,” Bri says.
“No, not yet,” I murmur. “But, it's more precaution than anything. The chances of me actually being pregnant are about a billion to one.”
“How do you figure that?”
“It was one time,” I say. “And we were safe. We used protection.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off by holding my hand up and nodding.
“I know, I know,” I say. “Nothing is ever one hundred percent safe. I get it. I just really doubt I'm pregnant, Bri.”
She lets out a long breath. “You need to know for certain, Lexi,” she says. “I mean, if it turns out you are, that's going to change literally everything in your life.”
“Trust me, I've already thought about it.”
“Have you?” she asks, her eyes locked onto mine.
“Yes. I have,” I say defensively.
“I mean, if you're pregnant, there's your job to worry about – I mean, you're barely squeaking by right now, how do you think you're going to do with a baby?”
I pull on the ends of my hair, doing my best to keep my cool and not snap at her. I know she's being practical and that she's not judging me, but still, her diatribe is making me feel like a stupid little kid, not a grown woman who is capable of thinking for myself and understanding the ramifications of my actions.
“I haven't gotten that far yet, to be honest,” I say. “Right now, I'm just trying to stop freaking out about all of it.”
“There's also the living situation, Lex,” she goes on as if she didn't hear me. “I don't know that I want to be living in the same apartment as a screaming child.”
“Believe me, I understand,” I say. “I really do.”
“I don't want to sound like a bitch, Lex. You know how much I love you,” she tells me.
“I know you do. And you don't sound like a bitch,” I assure her. “Not at all.”
She sighs again. “How did you get yourself into this, Lex?”
“If I need to explain how, maybe you need to go back and take some more classes,” I say.
I'm trying to lighten the mood just a bit and given the wan smile on Bri's face, I succeeded – at least, somewhat.
“You know what I mean,” she says.
It's my turn to sigh. “It just – happened,” I say. “I wasn't expecting it – neither of us were, I don't think. Everything just kind of fell into place and it just happened.”
“And you have no way to reach Duncan, do you?” she asks. “I mean, I'm assuming it's Duncan.”
“Who else would it be? And I'm hoping I don't have to,” I reply. “Like I said, it's a precaution. Nothing more.”
“What makes you think you might be?”
I tell her about the extreme nausea over the past few weeks and she just listens, her face tight, her expression grim. She's obviously not very happy with me right now. Which, I guess, is fair. It occurs to me that what I do and the choices I make have a direct impact on her, and I suddenly start to feel like crap.
Not that I can live my life or make my life decisions based on Sabrina, but when it comes to something as life-altering as this, maybe I should be a little more – careful.
I know that even though she makes good money at the hospital, she can't afford this place on her own any more than I can. So, me getting pregnant would be less than ideal for both of us for quite a few different reasons.
“God, Lex,” she sighs. “This could be bad. Really, really bad.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I mutter. “Do you actually think I want a kid right now? I can barely support myself, how in the hell am I going to support a kid?”
“It's a good question and something worth thinking about,” she says. “I mean, if it turns out that you are, what are you going to do?”
I shake my head. It's something I've thought a lot about. If I'm pregnant, the idea of putting my child up for adoption has already gone through my mind. More than a few times. It would be the practical and humane thing to do. It would give this child more of a fighting chance at a better life than I'll ever be able to provide for him or her.
On the other side of that coin, the thought of my child – a piece of my flesh and blood – being left to grow up in the system, a ward of the state, fills my heart with the blackest, deepest of dreads. The idea of strangers raising my baby, of not loving it like I know I would, tears my heart into ten thousand little pieces.
I know how screwed they would be if they didn't get adopted right away. But I have to think an infant would be snapped up super-fast. At least, I hope they would. At the moment, I just don't know what I'm going to do if that test turns out to be positive. I don't want to think about it right now.
But I know that I'm going to have to. Bri isn't going to let me not think about it.
“These tests are garbage,” Bri sigh, suddenly sounding tired. “Tomorrow, we're going down to the hospital. One of the docs owes me, so we're going to get you tested properly.”
“I'm sure it's going to be fine,” I tell her. “I mean, the odds are really small, Bri.”
“But, unless it's absolute zero, there's always a chance,” she says. “Which is why we're going to have the test done right. And figure out what to do after that.”