Monitored (The White Coat Series Book 3) (3 page)

I was never a big crier, even growing up. My mom always joked that my dad secretly sold his soul so that one of the twins would be guaranteed to be calm and focused. Whatever he did, it seemed to have worked because I always had my set goals and ways to accomplish them and rarely shed a tear when I was younger. Even in the ninth grade, I had my whole year penciled out with a huge (and really quite impressive) collection of colored markers and highlighters. My parents thought they got lucky with me.

“Surprise, mom and dad!! I’m pregnant and the father is a celebrity who’s married!”

Be careful what you wish for, that’s what they should have been thinking.

I shook it off and tried not to focus on it, bringing myself back to Connor.

“When do I get to meet him?” I asked, my voice still a little shaky but gaining back its confidence.

“Soon, but I think we should both go to bed. It’s been a long ass day,” Con said, knowing that we both couldn’t last much longer, we needed to crash. “You can take my bed and I’ll just crash on the couch.” I got up and put the navy green pillow back on the couch, like a booger sticking onto the sofa.

It was that bad.

We both said our goodnights and I tucked myself in. It took me a little longer to get to sleep, my mind racing and then slowing, racing and slowing.
 

I just knew one thing; I needed to tell Blake. It was the last piece of the puzzle, the final variable I needed to solve.
 

A variable that I knew nothing about.

That was what was the scariest part.

THE MORNING ROLLED IN SLOW, creeping through Connor’s closed blinds and peaking up from over the dark blue comforter I had thrown over my head. For about five seconds, I had that feeling everyone always describes, the moment when they think everything was just one crazy dream. Then realization comes crashing into the party and locking up all the alcohol, being the Debbie Downer to everything else. I took another five minutes underneath the comforters to compose myself and prep for facing the real world. It wasn’t until breakfast when I realized I actually didn’t have any real contact information for Blake besides where he worked.

“Jeez, I’m a slut. It’s official.” I sighed into my coffee, hot steam coming up and hitting my face.

“Shut up, you made a mistake and you’re going to live with it. Besides, you’re the biggest prude I know. You’ve hooked up with what, two guys in your whole life?” He put his plate in the sink, framed by the dark black marble countertop that gave his kitchen a very luxurious feel, I was a little surprised at how well it looked actually, especially comparing it to the patchwork his living room felt like.

He had a point though, I really had only had sex with two other guys before Blake, but that was only because they were both in long-term relationships with me so I really had no chance to go out and explore. It was just my luck that when I finally decided to explore, I would come back with a little surprise souvenir.

“Fine, but I still have to deal with the whole home-wrecker thing.”

“Yeah, that’s fucked up.” Con didn’t even deny it, coming up behind me and massaging some of the tension that was balled up at the very tops of my shoulders, just where they rose up to meet my neck.

“But hey, at least he’s really rich,” Con said, trying to find some silver lining in all of this. I gently reminded him that neither of us was exactly desperate for money.

“You’re right, you’re right.” He let go of my slightly more relaxed shoulders and walked over to the couch, throwing his bare feet up onto the glass table.
 

“Listen, Sky. You’re not any different than who you were five days ago, and that was a smart, driven, compassionate girl. You didn’t suddenly turn into a husband-crazed sex monster determined to end all relationships.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” I said, jumping off the barstool and grabbing my purse from the elegant, antiquated side-table that looked a little out of place amongst the more modern furnishings.

Patchwork.

“Let me know how it goes,” Con called out to me, simultaneously flipping on the television and opening his textbook for Greek Mythology.

“Will do,” I called back, closing the door behind me and feeling my pulse start to race. It was like a techno rave was raging at full steam inside me, the bass thumping away at my heart. I had no idea how this was going to go, but I knew I didn’t want to get tied up in a media shitstorm either, which seemed like more and more of a possibility as I got closer to the hospital. All that needed to happen was for someone to connect the dots and leak the news to the closest blogger.
 

But I needed to tell him, it needed to happen today.

I climbed out of my car, and with hands tucked nervously into the pockets of my dark jeans, I trekked into the hospital, it’s impressive glass entrance towering above me. It was quite beautiful, especially for being the exterior of a hospital.
 

I knew up to reception, my shoulders held back in a weak attempt at displaying some courage, and asked to see him.
 

“Do you have an appointment,” the lady asked, her white-out acrylic nails tapping away at the keyboard.

“No,” I stammered. “But I need to see him today, it’s important.”

“Mam, if you need urgent medical attention then we’ll call another doctor.”
 

I brushed it off. “It’s not medically urgent.”

“Well, sorry then but he’s busy all day.”

I said a quick thanks and stepped back, trying to come up with something, someway to get to him. A vaguely familiar looking blonde walked by me, her eyes pointed to the ground in front of her, a bandage stuck over her swollen nose. I watched her walk up to the desk and get directions straight to Blake.
 

For once, I felt like luck was finally on my side. I switched directions and kept pace behind the post-op blonde, the woman behind the desk staring straight at her computer like a falcon locked onto its prey. We took a few long hallways and one elevator to finally reach Blake’s office, where I quickly ducked into the bathroom just next door. I didn’t want to just barge in there like some crazy woman, I knew this needed to be handled with grace, like a delicate dance between two untrained ballerinas.

I knew it wasn’t going to go well.

I stayed in the stalls for about an hour, or at least that’s what it felt like, especially after I finished up the level I could never pass on Candy Crush. When I felt like it was finally safe to come out, I clicked open the stall and stepped out into the white lights of the hospital hallway.
 

It was empty.

I pressed my ear against the door labeled, “DR. BLAKE EVANS” on a seemingly gold name badge. I heard a little movement, like shuffling of papers, but nothing that told me there was someone in there. My fingers closed around the doorknob and turned, pushing the door open and hearing a screech of surprise mixed with a grunt of confusion just as I saw Blake Evans with his face buried right in between the blonde girl’s thighs. I froze for a second, a second that felt like an hour, and slammed the door shut.
 

The blood in my body dropped down to my feet, sucking the life out of my brain and giving me the light-headed feeling that comes just before someone passes out. I held a shaky hand out and posted myself up against the white wall, trying to process what I just saw.

First of all: I realized where I recognized that blonde from. She was that new host on the morning talk show, the one where everything got talked about but nothing ever really got resolved.
 

Second of all: I wasn’t the only one.

It was a ridiculous thought, especially when laid out and really analyzed. I, as the cheater, expected myself to be a special little snowflake, the only one of his concubines that were in on his little secret. It was a sick thought process that seemed to have surfaced the moment I opened that door.
 

The rustling in the room got louder as hushed whispers carried out under the door, their worry apparent in their hurried speech. I couldn’t make out exactly what they said, but I did hear her ask if I would say anything. I couldn’t hear his answer, but I didn’t want to. I steadied myself and took another deep breath in. I was going to get through this and I wasn’t going to run, either. I was taking this asshole head on.

The door clicked open and the blonde rushed out, her baseball cap pulled down much lower on her head, hiding her eyes this time. The bandage was gone, and I had to admit, it didn’t look bad. The asshole could do his job right at least.

I walked in, not even waiting to be called. Blake sat there, behind his strong desk, the same one that was supporting the weight of one full body and one upper torso just moments before. His navy blue shirt collar was unbuttoned and turned up slightly in the corner, his tie lying hanging off the back of his chair and his white coat thrown unceremoniously onto a small brown loveseat in the corner. He couldn’t even be bothered to clean up everything.

“I’m sorry you had to walk in on that,” he said, his eyes empty of any sign of an apology. Those golden brown eyes seemed devoid of something else, but I pressed on.

“Me too,” I said, curt and cold. I was trying to muster as much strength as I had inside me, curling up my fingers a little and feeling small fists start to take shape. It suddenly occurred to me, did he even remember me?

“Listen, Sky, I can’t make excuses or apologies. I know that the fuck we had in the bathroom,” so he did remember me, “was incredible. And honestly you’re one of the most-beautiful girls I have ever been with.” I could tell what he was doing in an instant. He wanted to butter me up, make sure that I had no inclination of going to the tabloids to sell his story.
 

“Dr. Ev- Blake, I don’t know if there’s an easy way to say this.” I stammered a little, feeling the strength begin to drain from me. There was no way he was expecting this news, I could tell in his relaxed demeanor, his nonchalant way about him. Sure, he seemed a little stressed about someone seeing him eating another girl out, but I was just another one of his conquests. He didn’t feel threatened by me. To him, I was just like that blonde being served up on a silver rhinoplasty platter.
 

He wasn’t accounting for a baby.

“What’s wrong?” He picked himself up a bit, his slumped shoulders rolling up and back, his head coming forward. It almost felt like he was consulting a patient. Oh no, no, no.
 

“I um… I’m pregnant.”

The air was sucked out of the room in one fell swoop, rushing out of whatever nook and cranny and crevice it could find. I could see the color in Blake’s face turn paper white, as the two words he wanted to least hear dropped in front of him with the force of a nuclear bomb. His shoulders slumped back down in something that looked dangerously close to defeat.

“How?” he asked, knowing damn well how. I decided I didn’t need to explain the biology of it all, so I just sat there, my hands cupped in my lap, the thumb twitching on the top of my left hand.

We sat there in silence for what seemed like hours. I could have sworn I saw the sun slowly start its descent in the window that framed Blake, his teeth clicking away as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He was hunched forward this time, his fingers intertwined in a closed fist resting on top of a few patient folders.
 

“Do you know?”

 
“I’m keeping it.”

“What?” Was that shock in his tone? A flash of something behind those golden brown irises, I know I saw something.

“I mean, do you think you’re ready?” he asked, shifting in his seat just as much as he shifted his tone.

Which was quite a lot.

He must have realized the power that I now held. Suddenly, the comfortable floor underneath him turned into one riddled with eggshells. He had to tiptoe around me, make sure I didn’t blow up and cry to a news outlet. I knew myself though, and I knew I wasn’t going to reveal anything. I didn’t want any of that attention falling on me and I didn’t think it would cause any good, but something about the power was enticing. There was something almost intoxicating to see how Blake now had to play nice. I knew I was a big facilitator in the whole cheating thing, but now I wanted a little payback. I wanted to serve him a bit of revenge pie for his wife, for me, and for that dumb blonde bitch.
 

So I didn’t want to show all my cards just yet, I wanted to let him keep thinking I was a liability. Maybe he’d learn a lesson just the same way I had.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure,” I said, my hands now resting on the armrests of the wooden office chair he had sat for me at the front of his desk.
 

He withdrew for a moment before sitting back up in his seat, looking straight at me, and to me complete and total surprise, he smiled. A deep, genuine feeling smile that was meant to reassure. I was supposed to feel comforted by him, like he knew just what the roadmap was and where it lead.
 

“We’ll get through this.” I noticed his use of we’ll.

“You’re not alone in this ok? I’ll help you every step of the way.” He got up now, walking around his large desk and posting himself on the edge closest to me, his ankles crossing together. I noticed he wore some expensive looking dark jeans, tailored perfectly, instead of the usual scrub attire.
 

I looked down at the floor, down at the scuff marks on the floor. His presence almost felt imposing now.
 

“We just need to make sure that it stays a secret.” And there it was, his first defensive tactic. He wanted me to know that this was indeed a secret and that it indeed had to stay a secret. I wanted to jab back, but when I looked up, I couldn’t help but get slapped at the sheer reality of it all.

I literally just saw this guy on the cover of a tabloid talking about being reunited with some long-lost family member. He was as much a celebrity as any B-rated actor, cashing in on reality television show fame and whoring himself out through the talkshow circuit. And here he was, talking to me about his, our, baby.