Page 30 of Nine Months to Love

We breeze past all the couples sitting in the waiting area—smiling, hand-holding couples who look like they actually like each other, who lean into each other and whisper and laugh. Their happiness feels like an accusation.

An older nurse with kind eyes and laugh lines shows us straight to an examination room, her smile warm and genuine. “The doctor will be in to see you in a moment,” she chirps before disappearing in a swish of pale blue scrubs.

A poster on the wall shows fetal development week by week, tiny forms growing larger panel by panel. Another showingproper breastfeeding positions, illustrated mothers with serene expressions.

I look away from both, my throat tight.

I sit down in the chair in front of the doctor’s desk and pointedly ignore Stefan, who’s busy strutting around the room. He inspects the diplomas on the wall like he’s genuinely interested in Dr. Kostas’s credentials, his head tilted slightly as he reads.

The seconds tick by on the wall clock, each one marked by a soft mechanical click. My annoyance doesn’t fade with them. If anything, it builds, pressure mounting behind my sternum.

“You realize that I’m not the one who did anything wrong, right?” I snap. “You’re the ass here. Not me.”

He turns from the wall, one eyebrow raised, lips pressed together. “I thought we weren’t talking?”

“We’re not! I’m just making an observation. You don’t get to huff around in surly silence as though I’m the one who did something wrong.”

“Here’s my observation: You’re so damn scared of being hurt that you’re determined to create drama between us.”

“Excuse me!” I splutter, jerking up from my seat. My purse slides off my lap and I barely catch it. The urge to throw it at him is almost overwhelming. “I don’t have to find anything when you’ve been generous enough to give me a fuck ton of reasons. And as for the drama—that’s all you, buddy!”

His expression is purposefully calm, like he’s discussing the weather or the stock market. Not the train wreck that is us. “‘She said dramatically.’”

That’s it. Screw him.

“You want drama?” I hiss, my voice low and dangerous. “Here’s some real life drama for you.”

Then I throw my handbag right at his head.

Unfortunately for me, the timing of my throw aligns with the exact moment the doctor walks into the examination room. He stops short in the doorway, his smile faltering as Stefan sidesteps my projectile with infuriating ease. The bag hits the wall behind him with a satisfying thud, then drops to the floor with a clatter of its contents.

“Well,” the doctor begins. “Good morning. I’m Dr. Kostas.” He adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses, taking in the scene before him with widening eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”

Stefan picks my bag up off the floor—crouching gracefully, gathering the scattered lipstick and keys—and hands it back to me like we’re at a garden party and he’s just retrieved my dropped napkin.

“Olivia here was just illustrating how she plans on passing me the baby.”

The doctor adjusts his blood red tie and walks over to his desk. His white coat billows behind him as he tries to figure out what expression to assume, bewilderment or amusement.

He settles on a cross between both as he sits, gesturing for us to do the same. His movements are practiced, professional, but there’s uncertainty in his eyes. “As your doctor, I must advise you to refrain from throwing the baby around. At least for the first several months.”

“You hear that, honey?” Stefan shoots me a wicked smile. “No throwing the baby around.”

I throw him a warning smile right back, all teeth and no warmth whatsoever. “I’ll try and remember that.” I sit back down, the chair creaking, and face Dr. Kostas, who’s looking between Stefan and me with the dawning realization that he’s just stepped into a field riddled with landmines.

Poor bastard.

“I’ve read through your medical file, Olivia. Everything seems?—”

“What do you mean you’ve read through my medical file?” I demand, forgetting in the moment to be polite, to be the good patient. My voice rises. “I didn’t give you access to that information.”

Kaboom.There goes the first landmine.

His smile falters. “I was sent your file prior to this appointment, Mrs. Safonova.”

Oh,hellno. “The name is Miss Aster, Dr. Kostas. Or Dr. Aster. I will even answer to Olivia. But Mrs. Safonova is someone entirely different and far more special.” I shoot Stefan a glare that could melt his face off. “She has regenerative powers. I’m just pregnant.”

Dr. Kostas looks lost. His pen hovers over his notepad, frozen. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I followed much of that.”