Page 27 of Possessed By You

She lowers into a seat across from me. “What do you mean?”

“My red blood count is too low. I’m anemic.”

“That’s usually not that bad.”

“It stemmed from the pregnancy, the doctor thinks. She said a normal hemoglobin count is 12 and I’m at a 6. She said miscarriage is possible if I don’t get this under control.”

“Oh God. What do you have to do?”

“She mentioned iron supplements, a different diet, blood transfusions, rest.”

“Can you work?”

“She mentioned time off, but this isn’t a physically demanding job. I think I’ll be fine for a few months. I’ll need to take a leave later on, though.”

“We can work with that, absolutely.”

I stare at the white gauze around my arm where they spent hours pumping a bag of blood into my system.

“Have you told him?”

“No.”

“Honey, you need to.”

“He’s going to leave me. He doesn’t want kids.”

Her brows instantly furrow. “He told you that?”

“He said he’d want to be able to devote his time to a child and he wouldn’t be able to right now.”

“Maybe he’ll think differently now that it’s actually happened.”

“I don’t think he will.”

“Have faith in your husband, Darcy. He loves you, more than anything. This may be a shock at first, but he will understand.”

***

Benjamin’s assistant Tiffany is waiting outside her office to greet me, having been informed by the new receptionist when I got off the elevator. That office once was mine, and after the entire walk here that I spent in reflection, it’s hard not to be distracted by the sight.

“Mrs. Scott,” she says proudly, clearly set on congratulating me. That comes next, and I do my best to fumble through pleasantries. Benjamin’s glass doors are fogged, but he’s in there.

“Can I go in?”

“He’ll be glad to see you. He’s been in a foul mood today.”

I don’t tell her the reason is probably because of me.

“Thanks,” I say, rapping on the door gently. I don’t know how I haven’t had a panic attack yet.

“Come in.”

I enter with a gulp. Benjamin’s focused on an array of papers covering his desk, glasses perched on his nose, and is typing something into a calculator. Seeing my movement, he glances up and doesn’t glance back down.

I wave stupidly.

“Darcy, I’ve been calling you all day,” he says, shooting up from his chair. He drops his glasses onto the mess of work.