Read Online Provocative (Tempting Book 3) by Alex Lucian - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alex Lucian
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of my teeth. I couldn’t throw them away.
In the end, I folded them and wrapped them in tissues before I lay back on the examination table. I opened the paper blanket and covered myself with it as I placed my feet in the stirrups.
Where was Nathan?
The doctor knocked on the door a second later as if she had x-ray vision and sat down between my legs. Her eyes met me over the tops of my knees and she gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll try to make this quick, okay?”
The nurse from before joined her and after they both washed their hands and put on gloves. I felt the blood dripping from my center and soaking the sheet underneath me.
“I’m sorry,” I said absently. “The blood.”
The doctor touched my knee and squeezed. “Don’t apologize. Do you want to hold Trudy’s hand?” She gestured to the nurse.
I shook my head. “No, let’s get this over with.”
“Okay. Relax. Inhale and on your exhale, let it last a long time.”
I did as she instructed, staring at the butterfly photo on the ceiling above my head. Something cold pushed into me and I heard mumbles from the doctor to the nurse and the clank of tools on the metal table.
Less than a minute later, the doctor sat back. “We’ll be right back,” she said as she snapped off her gloves and left the room with Trudy the nurse.
My feet were still in the stirrups, the lower half of my body completely open and exposed.
I wanted Nathan. Desperately. I was holding it together, but with a very short rope.
Suddenly, as if I’d conjured him, the door pushed open and Nathan came in.
“Adele,” he said, his face ashen and his eyes flat. He immediately leaned over, pulling me up to sitting so that he could wrap his arms more fully around me. “I’m so sorry,” he said against my hair. “What did the doctor say?”
“I’m waiting for the results,” I mumbled. I let him hold me, but moving my own arms felt like too much effort. So I stayed still as his warmth surrounded me.
The door opened again and the doctor returned. After a brief introduction, she sat in her doctor’s chair and rolled close to me.
“Adele,” she sighed, and I knew. Nathan held my hand and I squeezed painfully—wishing for an answer she couldn’t give me. “I’m so sorry. Your cervix is open. This early in a pregnancy, that means miscarriage is inevitable.”
“No.” I shook my head. The word repeated, on a loop. I wasn’t sure if I was speaking it or if I was hearing it so loudly in my head that it just sounded like I was speaking it too.
Nathan’s hand in mine went limp and instantly cold, as if he’d lost the blood that was pumping through it.
“We’ll need to perform an ultrasound to see if it has happened yet, or if the fetus is still viable.”
I wanted to close my ears to the noise. Nathan was saying something, but nothing came out of my throat—nothing English, at least.
“I’m very sorry,” the doctor repeated, and she had the decency to actually look sorry. She left the room and Nathan followed her to talk in the hallway and then I was alone as the cold seeped in.
By the time I was being wheeled to the ultrasound room, Nathan had joined me but said nothing. It was as if there was a language barrier between us. His grief was an illustration on his face and swept through his body. His hands shook and his lips didn’t move. His eyes were shuttered closed and his pallor looked unhealthy.
Inside, my body was building up towers of denial, to keep me safe behind them. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone.
And when the ultrasound technician placed the wand over my low belly, I waited to see the bouncing blob again. I waited for the blink of the heartbeat.
I waited and waited and nothing happened.
The technician was different this time and I wished for the one we had before, the bubbly one. Maybe she’d be able to find the baby and announce that this was all a mistake.
But after fifteen minutes, she found nothing.
It had
In the end, I folded them and wrapped them in tissues before I lay back on the examination table. I opened the paper blanket and covered myself with it as I placed my feet in the stirrups.
Where was Nathan?
The doctor knocked on the door a second later as if she had x-ray vision and sat down between my legs. Her eyes met me over the tops of my knees and she gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll try to make this quick, okay?”
The nurse from before joined her and after they both washed their hands and put on gloves. I felt the blood dripping from my center and soaking the sheet underneath me.
“I’m sorry,” I said absently. “The blood.”
The doctor touched my knee and squeezed. “Don’t apologize. Do you want to hold Trudy’s hand?” She gestured to the nurse.
I shook my head. “No, let’s get this over with.”
“Okay. Relax. Inhale and on your exhale, let it last a long time.”
I did as she instructed, staring at the butterfly photo on the ceiling above my head. Something cold pushed into me and I heard mumbles from the doctor to the nurse and the clank of tools on the metal table.
Less than a minute later, the doctor sat back. “We’ll be right back,” she said as she snapped off her gloves and left the room with Trudy the nurse.
My feet were still in the stirrups, the lower half of my body completely open and exposed.
I wanted Nathan. Desperately. I was holding it together, but with a very short rope.
Suddenly, as if I’d conjured him, the door pushed open and Nathan came in.
“Adele,” he said, his face ashen and his eyes flat. He immediately leaned over, pulling me up to sitting so that he could wrap his arms more fully around me. “I’m so sorry,” he said against my hair. “What did the doctor say?”
“I’m waiting for the results,” I mumbled. I let him hold me, but moving my own arms felt like too much effort. So I stayed still as his warmth surrounded me.
The door opened again and the doctor returned. After a brief introduction, she sat in her doctor’s chair and rolled close to me.
“Adele,” she sighed, and I knew. Nathan held my hand and I squeezed painfully—wishing for an answer she couldn’t give me. “I’m so sorry. Your cervix is open. This early in a pregnancy, that means miscarriage is inevitable.”
“No.” I shook my head. The word repeated, on a loop. I wasn’t sure if I was speaking it or if I was hearing it so loudly in my head that it just sounded like I was speaking it too.
Nathan’s hand in mine went limp and instantly cold, as if he’d lost the blood that was pumping through it.
“We’ll need to perform an ultrasound to see if it has happened yet, or if the fetus is still viable.”
I wanted to close my ears to the noise. Nathan was saying something, but nothing came out of my throat—nothing English, at least.
“I’m very sorry,” the doctor repeated, and she had the decency to actually look sorry. She left the room and Nathan followed her to talk in the hallway and then I was alone as the cold seeped in.
By the time I was being wheeled to the ultrasound room, Nathan had joined me but said nothing. It was as if there was a language barrier between us. His grief was an illustration on his face and swept through his body. His hands shook and his lips didn’t move. His eyes were shuttered closed and his pallor looked unhealthy.
Inside, my body was building up towers of denial, to keep me safe behind them. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone.
And when the ultrasound technician placed the wand over my low belly, I waited to see the bouncing blob again. I waited for the blink of the heartbeat.
I waited and waited and nothing happened.
The technician was different this time and I wished for the one we had before, the bubbly one. Maybe she’d be able to find the baby and announce that this was all a mistake.
But after fifteen minutes, she found nothing.
It had
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