One Hot Doctor by Sarah J. Brooks
Chapter 27
Cora
I turn to each side and admire my reflection in the mirror. I can’t wait to show off my new figure. I look quite pregnant, and the dress I’m wearing is fitting and not designed to camouflage a pregnancy. I can’t wait to hear from the ladies when they see the change.
Whoever would have believed that I, a fitness fanatic, would take great pride in my belly growing bigger and bigger? The doorbell rings as I’m clutching my belly in a fit of giggles.
Must be Thomas. I grab my purse and hurry to the front door. Instead of letting him in, I press the buzzer and tell him that I’m on the way down. If I were a singer, I’d sing as I ride the elevator down. My singing voice is horrible, and so I content myself with dancing my way down. For no particular reason, I feel happy. As if everything in my world is as it should be, which makes no sense. The stuff with my mom and Ian is not resolved. Adeline calls me almost every day with a new complaint or worry. I still get morning sickness but thank God that is petering off. I’ve taken on one of my classes, but I’m still not feeling energetic enough to take on a full workload. Riley is still on bed rest, but the doctor said she could start moving around a little in the house. In other words, nothing much has changed in my life, but I feel optimistic and excited about the future.
“You look beautiful,” Thomas says when I step out the main door. He slips his hand around my waist and kisses me on the mouth.
“Thank you.”
He keeps his hand in mine as we walk to the car. It’s a nice evening with a soft breeze that blows my dress, making it wrap around my thighs.
“I’m looking forward to your mom’s cooking,” I tell Thomas.
I miss my mom’s cooking. I remember the days of the table being full of a variety of mouth-watering dishes. These days she doesn’t have time for any of that in-between coming to the gym and being at the bar. It seems so long ago that she used to invite us for dinner at her place and yet it isn’t. Things change in a very short time.
“She loves cooking, and when there’s an extra guest, she goes all out,” Thomas says.
I’ll probably be that kind of a mother. I’ll love having my son or daughters’ partners and friends come over for dinner. I let out a sigh. It sounds like the perfect life. I even visualize the scene at the dining table, but when I zoom in on the head of the family table, I see Thomas’s face.
That jerks me out of my fantasy. Thomas has different dreams for his life, and they do not include a family.
We arrive at his parents’ home and find Fran and Martin’s car parked out front. Thomas kisses me deeply on the mouth before we get out of the car, leaving me breathless and longing for more.
He knocks on the door once and then pushes it open. I remember when I did that at my mother’s house. Not these days. Not when there’s a risk of walking into Ian half-naked or even naked. He seems like the kind of person who is comfortable walking around naked in the house. It also doesn’t feel like the home my siblings and I grew up in. Mom has made a lot of changes recently, including the furniture, and she’s having a contractor over to give the kitchen a makeover.
“Is that you, Thomas and Cora?” his mom asks, making me feel like a part of a well-functioning family. It’s a good feeling.
“No, Mom, it’s a burglar,” Thomas quips.
She meets us at the entrance of the living room. “Very funny,” she tells Thomas as she hugs him.
“Cora,” Mrs. Clarkson says warmly. She draws me into her arms and hugs me tightly.
“Hi, Mrs. Clarkson.” I hug her back.
“Please call me Christine,” she says.
Pleasure flows through me. I hope that an invitation to call her by her first name means that I’ve passed a test.
Thomas’s father, Martin, and sister, Fran, are relaxing with glasses of wine and water. A flurry of hugs later, and Thomas and I join them.
“Cora, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but the baby bump has really grown,” Christine says. “You carry pregnancy very well.”
I giggle a little at that. “That’s the first compliment I’ve received on how well I carry a pregnancy. I like it.”
“Yes, you’ve become a whole lot bigger,” Fran says.
“I’m not going to catch up with you, though,” I tease, eyeing her big belly. I can’t wait until my baby bump is that big.
“Is the baby kicking a lot?” she asks.
“Not so much, and it never happens when Thomas is there.”
Thomas has explained that some babies are just too comfortable in their mother’s bellies and couldn’t be bothered to move much. I liked that thought. That I’ve created such a warm environment that my baby just wants to snuggle in.
“You are so lucky,” Fran exclaims. “Mine causes such a racket that you’d think there’s a soccer match going on in my belly.”
We all laugh. Conversation flows easily, and even Mr. Clarkson is drawn to it, regaling us with stories of how Fran and Thomas cried a lot as babies.
Fran shudders. “I hope it’s not our turn to pay back for that.”
Dinner is as delicious as I hoped, and I get the feeling that we are slowly becoming an extended family. I know that Thomas and I will not be together romantically after the baby is born, but we’ll still be a family. That gives me a small measure of comfort.
The only thing that makes me wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat is the thought of Thomas with a new woman. I’ve had a recurring nightmare where my baby and I visit the Clarksons and run into Thomas and his new girlfriend.
I refuse to think that far into the future. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, and I wish I could control my nightmares and tell them not to worry about that yet. There’s a lot to get through before I have to deal with Thomas’s future girlfriends.
“That was a perfect evening,” I tell Thomas on the way home.
“It was, wasn’t it?” he says. “I wish we could extend it, but I have a conference to attend early in the morning. I’m not confident I’ll make it if I sleep at your place.”
“There’ll be another time.” Just saying that reminds me of just how little time we have together. Sadness envelops me, but I push it away. I knew what I had gotten myself into when I found out I was pregnant with Thomas’s baby.
He’s never lied to me about what he wants or doesn’t want. From the beginning, I knew that he definitely did not want a baby. I should be pleased that he’s willing to play an active role in our baby’s life.
He stops the car outside my apartment and walks around the car to open the door for me. He walks me to the main door and then pulls me into his arms, and kisses me.
His mouth is demanding and hot, and within seconds, I’m clinging to him and moaning into his mouth. My body comes alive, and all I want is to beg him to come upstairs with me. I know that he would say yes, but my pride stops me.
“Why can’t I ever get enough of you?” he murmurs as he pulls away.
I hope you never do, I answer in my mind. Aloud, I say, “Have a good night; we’ll speak tomorrow.”
***
I thrash my legs around. I can’t breathe. Instead of clean, fresh air, I’m inhaling smoke. I fight to open my eyes and snap out of the current nightmare. My chest feels as if it’s filling up with smoke with every breath I take. Desperation comes over me, and cries leave my mouth. Then with a burst of energy, I manage to rouse myself out of that nightmare and crack my eyes open.
I blink rapidly with confusion and sit up in bed. I can actually smell smoke. I can taste smoke. What kind of nightmare turns almost real? I flick on the lights, and they come on, and that’s when I realize with horror it’s not a nightmare.
There’s a fire. I jump out of bed and grab my phone just in time because in the second, there’s an explosion, and then the lights go off. Panic threatens to overwhelm me. My building is on fire.
I need to get out, my brain screams. Oh God, please don’t let me die. I hurry blindly to the living room, which is full of smoke. It’s becoming harder and harder to inhale clean oxygen. It’s unbearably hot, and a part of me wants to sink to the floor and wrap my hands around my knees, but I think about my baby. She deserves a chance at life. I manage to open the door, and a fresh blast of heat and smoke hits my face.
I sink to all fours and crawl out, my whole body heaving with every breath. I’m going to die.
No!
I crawl in the direction of the stairs. My eyes are open with tears seeping out from the burn of the smoke. They might as well be shut because I can’t see a thing. Where is everyone? It feels eerily quiet apart from small explosions going off every so often.
My lungs are screaming for air. Then I hear it. At first, I think I’m becoming delirious again. I can’t crawl any further. My body can’t take it anymore. And then I hear it again. Voices. I’m not crazy. The voices are real. They get nearer.
“Is someone there?” a voice calls out.
“Yes, I’m here,” I call out with a last burst of energy.
Then mercifully strong arms go around me, and someone lifts me up into his arms. A fireman.
“You’re safe now, ma’am,” he says, his voice muffled by his breathing mask. “You’ll be all right.”
I lay my head down on his chest, and as we enter the stairwell, we stop, and a mask is put on my face.
I inhale sweet cold oxygen greedily at first. Then as my lungs fill up, I start to relax, and still, we’re going down the stairs. There’s less smoke as we keep descending.
And then we burst out of the building.
“We need to get her into the ambulance and to the hospital,” the fireman says, his voice terse.
I want to tell him there’s no need and that I’m okay, but my mouth won’t move. I open my eye a crack, but it takes so much energy that I instantly close it, but before I do, I note that I’m on a stretcher being wheeled into an ambulance. Then I start to tremble, and my nightshirt feels like it’s soaking wet. Someone puts another mask on me and strips off my T-shirt. Seconds later, warmth envelops me as I’m wrapped in a blanket or something very warm.
Bliss. My body feels weary as if I’ve been lifting weights all day. My eyelids feel as if a weight has been placed on them. I give in to the pull of sleep even though there’s a part of my brain demanding that I stay awake. I try to think why it is important that I stay awake, but I can’t think of anything.
To be honest, I’m not even sure why I’m in an ambulance, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is how warm and snugly I am. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
