One Hot Doctor by Sarah J. Brooks
Chapter 3
Thomas
I’m a coward. There’s no other name for it. Cora’s appointment is tomorrow, but instead of letting her come in, I’m giving her the results over the phone. I might be a coward, but it’s for the best. It’s better for both of us if we don’t meet again.
Cora is a walking, breathing temptation. Seeing her once was enough to awaken my attraction for her. I had to take a shower on the first day she showed up. I can’t remember the last time I jerked off, but it’s been twice now. All I can think about is how much I want to taste her again and hear her sweet voice begging me to fuck her. I don’t trust myself around Cora. Plus, I’m not so much of a dick that I don’t know how badly I hurt her when I ended our affair. Cora is the one woman I would not want to hurt ever again.
She picks up on the third ring.
“Morning, Cora. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”
“Not at all,” she says breathlessly. “I’ve just finished with an aerobics class.”
I imagine her hot and sweaty, with those little shorts she wears to teach class tight on her curvy ass. My cock swells as I imagine pulling down her shorts and fucking her while she’s leaning over my desk. I adjust my pants to give room to my rapidly swelling cock.
“I have your results here with me,” I tell her. “Everything’s perfect, and there’s no reason why you can’t get pregnant.”
“Thanks for letting me know early,” she says.
I feel like a complete asshole. I feel like that a lot where Cora is concerned. “You’re welcome. We also booked you an appointment at the clinic. It’s for tomorrow.”
“Oh wow, you really are efficient,” Cora says and lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh, God.”
“What is it?” I ask her.
“I’m just being silly. I want this so badly, but I’m terrified at the same. Ignore me. I know I’m not making sense.”
“Hey, if it will make you feel better, I can go with you to the clinic tomorrow for moral support.” I could kick myself as soon as the words are out. I’m supposed to stay away from Cora, not hold her hand during her appointments. If I keep going this way, I’ll probably deliver her baby. I’m disgusted with myself.
“Would you?” she asks, sounding so relieved that I can’t withdraw my offer.
“Sure.”
“Thank you.”
We agree to meet the following day at a few minutes to two at the clinic, which works out perfectly because it’s my day off. We say goodbye, and I’m left thinking about Cora. I think about the last time I saw her almost three years ago. I’d been in a pretty bad place, and so had she after Jasper’s death. I cringe when I remember how I ended it between us. She had wanted a baby even then.
Okay, I’ll support her tomorrow, but after that, I’ll exit her life and continue with my own miserable one. I’m not blind to my own faults, and besides, I have my family to remind me if I forget. My parents have been happily married for over forty years, and they believe every one of their kids should follow in their footsteps.
My sister Fran, short for Francesca, is married to an awesome dude. Martin is a doctor like me, but while I’m in obstetrics, he’s a surgeon. Fran is a surgical nurse. That’s how they met, and they have a cute story about meeting in the operating room while they were all scrubbed up and covered except for the eyes.
What began as hints regarding my single life before have now escalated to direct questions on why I’m not seeing anyone yet. There’s even a hint of impatience because three years is enough time to grieve as far as my family is concerned. If only they knew. Grief has no timeline, though I have to admit that it’s gotten easier. I don’t think about Tessa these days and want to burst into tears like a child.
I turn my thoughts back to Cora. Maybe guilt over how I treated her is the reason why I want to offer her moral support tomorrow. Not because I’m attracted to her.
***
It’s odd to park my car in my usual parking space outside the clinic but not enter. Instead, I stroll to the building next door. As expected, I find Cora already in the waiting area. I wave at her and walk to the reception desk.
“Hey,” I say to Maureen, the receptionist at the sperm bank.
“Hi, Doc,” she says and then frowns. “Do you have a meeting here today?”
“No, just coming to support a friend.”
We exchange a few pleasantries, and then I excuse myself to join Cora.
She stands up and kisses my cheek. “Thank you for coming; it means the world to me.”
Her scent envelopes me, and for a moment, I remember how it feels to hold her in my arms. “You’re welcome.”
We sink into the chairs and exchange a smile. Hers is a little shaky, but that is understandable. It’s a big step she’s taking.
“This is it. You’re taking the first step in making your dreams for a baby come true.”
She inhales deeply. “Yes. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to get pregnant with a man who is, in essence, a stranger. Someone my baby or I will never know.”
Before I can reply, Maureen calls Cora to go in. My eyes are glued to her curvy ass as she follows Maureen down the hallway. I try to imagine Cora pregnant with another man’s child. A faceless, nameless man. A burning sensation, which I recognize as jealousy, fills my chest. Which is crazy. After today, I’ll probably never see Cora ever again.
Uncomfortable with my train of thought, I grab a magazine from the table and flip through it. It’s a real estate magazine filled with pictures of houses for sale. I pause when I come across a family-type home, and I find myself imagining Cora, myself, and our baby living in it. I catch myself before I take the fantasy too far. What the fuck is wrong with me? I definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.
I close the magazine and return it to its spot and instead occupy myself by checking my emails. There’s a nice long one from May and Fred, a couple I worked with two years ago. They’re inviting me for their son’s two-year birthday in a week’s time. He was conceived via IVF after one failed attempt.
It hits me just how long I’ve been working in the fertility clinic. For two years, I’ve been part of a process that has helped countless couples have their own babies. An ache of loneliness comes over me. Apart from sharing in their joy, I’ve had no joy of my own. Nothing to celebrate or commemorate except another anniversary of the day that I lost my Tessa.
I don’t know how long I sit lost in my memories when Cora walks back into the waiting area. She flashes me a smile that immediately puts me in a better mood. She speaks to the receptionist for a few minutes and then comes to where I’m seated, clutching a big brown envelope.
Having walked with couples through this part of the journey for a baby, I know what the forms are. They’re for her preferences, which will be used to match her to potential donors.
Her face is pale when she tells me that she’s finished. I stand up, and impulsively, I pull her to me and wrap her in my arms. She holds on tightly to me, and we stay like that for a few moments.
“Let’s go,” she finally says and draws back.
Outside, Cora turns to me. “Thanks for coming with me.”
I take her hand. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “I’ll be fine. The magnitude of what I’m contemplating hit me when the doctor gave me these forms and then told me what to expect when I bring them back.”
“They’ll send you profiles of potential donors,” I said.
“Yes. It feels like shipping.” She giggles, but it’s humorless.
“It’s not easy. You have to keep your eye on the prize.” I repeat the words that I’ve said to countless women and couples over the years.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Hey, how about a drink?” I ask her. “Unless of course, you have other commitments.”
Her face lights up. “I’d like that. Any distraction is appreciated.”
“Let’s take your car. Mine can stay overnight in that spot.”
I follow her to her car in the rear of the building. She unlocks the door and tosses the envelope and her bag in the back seat. When we enter the car, my gaze is drawn to her skirt, which rides up when she sits down, exposing her creamy thighs.
Pervert. There’s no other word for checking out a woman you’re helping conceive a baby. I force myself to look away.
“Alms?” she says.
I laugh. “I remember you used to like it.”
“It’s a walking distance from my place,” she says.
I knew of the popular cocktail bar, but I’d resisted going with Cora when we were dating because a lot of her friends went there. The lengths I went to don’t make me proud, but that’s who I was at the time. I’ve changed a bit. The hard, bitter edge is gone, and although I’m still not interested in a relationship, I’ve lost the strategic asshole trait. I think.
We make small talk as we drive to the cocktail bar. I ask Cora about her gym, and she talks about the changes the place has undergone in the last three years. Her voice is tinged with the excitement and zest for life that I remember.
She parks her car at her parking spot at the gym. I look at the building with nostalgia. I moved to one across town to get away from Cora, but I loved her gym. Everyone who works there was friendly, and the machinery used to be up to date and well maintained.
We walk to the Alms bar, and when we enter, it’s like a different planet. While the outside is bright and sunny, the cocktail bar is cool with soft, relaxing music playing in the background. If I had a jacket, I would have removed it. It was just as I’d thought three years ago. Everyone at the bar is Cora’s friend. She and the pretty woman bartending greet each other like old friends and ask after each other’s families.
“Your mom was here yesterday,” the bartender named Jen says in an amused whisper.
Cora doesn’t share that amusement. “You’re not serious?”
“Yeah,” Jen says. “She stayed for an hour, downed two cocktails, and left.”
We make our orders, and when she brings them, I carry them to a table at the far end.
“Your mom must be pretty cool to come to a place like this,” I say.
Cora shakes her head. “She’s become weird in the last few weeks. I don’t even want to think about that.”
We take seats at the bar, and Cora says to me, “You worked at the hospital. What happened to make you change jobs? You liked it there.”
I take a discreet deep breath. How do you explain that it had been another strategy to still the demons that used to keep me awake at night? I hadn’t been able to forget that Tessa had wanted a baby more than anything. And so, I’d decided to help as many women as I could get babies, and what better place to do that than at the fertility clinic. It had helped somewhat. With every couple or woman I helped, my guilt over not pleasing my own wife was assuaged a little bit.
“I enjoy helping people conceive. It’s satisfying.” It’s the truth.
