Doctor Dearest

In the hospital, I go looking for her, but when I show up, she’s not in the BICU and she’s not down in the cafeteria. I check the lounge then head to Lindsey’s office. She’s not there, but Lindsey is, and when she sees me, her eyes widen.

“Have you seen Natalie?” I ask, tipping my head into her office.

“Have you seen Natalie?” she replies, heavily implying that I should have.

“No?” I frown. “That’s why I’m here looking for her.”

She sighs and drags a hand down her face. “Listen, you need to find her. Last time I checked she was at the nursery.”

I squint, trying to determine if I heard her right. “The nursery? As in where they take the babies?”

“No, the place they grow plants. YES, the baby nursery. Don’t be so obtuse.”

Jesus.

What’s going on with her this morning?

I don’t stick around to ask. I only have a few minutes before I need to be back in the BICU, so I throw her a nod of thanks and head to the nursery. It’s safeguarded by a set of double doors, but sure enough, when I swipe my ID and they open, there she is: Natalie in front of the nursery window with her arms crossed and her face a mask of concentration. It’s like she’s never seen a baby before and isn’t sure how they work.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

She isn’t surprised to see me. In fact, she hardly pays me any attention as I come to stand beside her.

“Just looking.”

I frown and follow her gaze to the handful of newborns swaddled in their hospital bassinets. They’re cute, don’t get me wrong, but we have somewhere to be.

“Natalie, we have to get to work.”

“I know,” she says, sounding a hundred miles away. “It’s just…” She turns to me, eyes blinking but not seeing. Her attention stays on my chest when she speaks again. “Connor, I’m pregnant.”

I step back. “What? W-what did you just say?”

“I said, ‘Connor’. And then I said, ‘I’m’.”

“No, the part about being pregnant.”

“Oh. Yes. That word was also said.”

“You’re pregnant.” I sound dumbfounded. Like it’s not even a possibility. Like it’s the most astounding news I’ve heard in my entire life, and well, it probably is.

“Yes, according to Lindsey, but how good of a doctor is she, really?”

I open my mouth, but no words form. My lips open and close. I’ve lost my speaking abilities.

She misinterprets my reaction. Her hands shoot out as if to keep me at bay. “Don’t freak out. This isn’t an ‘I’m pregnant and now you have to marry me’ sort of thing.” She laughs too hard. “Oh my God, could you imagine?” She straightens her white coat and looks away. “No, this is just me being open and honest with you so you can’t accuse me of withholding information from you at a later date. Nothing needs to be done on your part.”

“‘On my part’,” I repeat, growing irritated.

“Yes.”

“I’m the father.”

There’s no ounce of uncertainty in my voice. Still, she replies like it was a question.

“Of course you are!”

“So then don’t tell me there’s nothing for me to do.”

Her eyes grow wide in alarm.

“I just meant—”

“It’s my child too.”

“Okay, jeez. Slow down there, buddy.”

I glance at my watch and goddammit, we need to book it back to the BICU. This isn’t exactly the ideal time to be having this discussion. I step forward and turn her, pressing my hand to her lower back to prod her along beside me.

“I’m going, I’m going. You don’t have to drag me.”

“I’m not so sure about that. How long have you known?”

“Since this morning, officially, but I’ve suspected since yesterday—”

“The morning sickness.”

“Yes.”

“Have you had it today?”

“Not yet, but I ate some crackers as soon as I woke up.”

“Good. And have you started prenatal vitamins?”

“Lindsey gave me some.”

“What about an ultrasound? Did you have time to do that this morning?”

“Oh my God, is this what it will be like—you being an overbearing doctor? No, we haven’t done a scan yet. Lindsey couldn’t fit me in today, and besides, I have back-to-back surgeries this morning and then a meeting after lunch.”

I don’t like the sound of it. I’d prefer if she took the morning off. I’m sure she has a lot to process. Hell, I have a lot to process, but her coloring looks good, not nearly as pale as yesterday, and though I try to force her to, she won’t let me take her blood pressure. I’ll just have to assume she’s feeling okay.

I glance down at her stomach as we walk. The stomach that’s still trim from all her running. The stomach I touched and kissed a thousand times over last night like a naïve fool. I’m not mad at her, though. Of course not. It’s not as if she’s been sitting on this secret for weeks, lying to me. She’s allowed to take a day to process this without sharing it with the world. Hell, she didn’t even officially know one way or the other until this morning, and now, here we are, in it together. I’m glad she told me.