My Billionaire Fling by Maci Dillon
SOPHIA
Gabe calls to say he’ll be longer than expected as something urgent needs his attention at his office. Unsure whether it has anything to do with Kassidy’s assignment, I attempt to call her. When she answers the call on the first ring, I burst into tears.
“Sophia? Honey, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t fucking know. I’m throwing up, waking with panic attacks, and I just told Gabe I loved him.”
“O-kay,” she answers slowly. “Are you at home?”
I tell her Gabe has sentenced me to work from home today, and I’m waiting on my things from the office.
“I’m on my way over.”
When the queen of lattes shows up at my doorstep twenty minutes later, she has two over-sized cups of coffee and offers me a sympathetic smile. The aroma of coffee assaults my senses, and my stomach churns again.
“Are you going to be sick again?”
I wave at the coffee, swallowing hard to keep from heaving.
Kassidy walks to the kitchen and places the cups on the counter and returns to me with a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Here, you don’t look so good.”
Taking the water from her, I risk a few small sips.
“Come on, let’s sit down.” We settle on the sofa in the living room, and Kassidy turns all serious. “What’s really going on, Sophia?”
I tell her about Danny Thorne, Gabe being distant, my dream, and this morning’s panic attack.
“And you’ve been sick the past two mornings as well as unusually exhausted and overly emotional.”
She stares at me curiously and I roll my eyes at her. “Yes, Kassidy, I’m a wreck. Thank you for pointing it out.”
“You’re not a wreck, Sophia. Is it possible you could be pregnant?”
My eyes widen, and a laugh escapes me. “Pregnant? Are you crazy?”
Her pointed stare remains unnerved by my reaction. “I can’t be pregnant, Kass. I’m too fucking old to have kids.”
“You’re forty, Sophia, not eighty, and whether you want to be or not doesn’t really matter. Is it a possibility?”
“Of course not, I’m on the pill, and…”
“And what?”
Thinking back to my last period, my head begins to spin as I recollect the one pro I listed when considering a fake married life with Gabe.
Sex on tap.
We agreed when we started living together, or rather, when I was moved in with him, there was no need for condoms. But I’ve never missed a day of the pill, except the first morning I woke up in this suite with Gabe. The morning after our engagement video went viral, and I bounced out of bed to answer Jarett’s call, demanding answers.
“I need a calendar.”
Kassidy hands me her phone, and I open the app, counting backward to my last cycle. Even as I bypass the previous month, I know it’s useless. I haven’t had a cycle since I moved in here.
Tears cascade over my cheeks, my semi-damp hair in a messy bun on top of my head bouncing as my body shakes uncontrollably.
“How could I miss this?”
Kassidy pulls me to her and shushes me. “You’ve had a lot on your mind lately.”
“This was never part of my plan, Kassidy. You don’t understand.”
“A fake engagement and falling in love with the man you never intended to marry wasn’t part of your plan either. Plans change, Sophia.”
We sit in silence for what feels like hours before Kassidy finally suggests making a doctor’s appointment. But I’m not sure I want confirmation until I can wrap my head around the possibility.
“Wouldn’t you rather know? It could be the added stress messing with your cycle. Hell, you might be going through early menopause.”
Now she has my attention. “I’m not menopausal,” I screech at her.
Kassidy shrugs. “Until you see the doc, how do you know?”
Sighing, I know she’s right. “I don’t want Gabe to know. Not until I know for sure.”
An hour later, I’m waiting for my GP with Kassidy by my side for strength. I might feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train, but if a pregnancy test shows up positive, I may well run out in front of one.
“Sophia Evans,” the nurse calls my name, and hesitantly, I follow her to the doctor’s office. When Kassidy isn’t hot on my heels, I spin around and summon her inside with me. Without question, she sits by my side, her hand on my arm for support as I explain the past few weeks.
“So, you aren’t actively trying to get pregnant?”
“Definitely not. I’ve never considered having children.” Not since my parents died, at least.
Dr. Lafferty pricks my finger and dabs the blood with a testing strip. “I don’t even get to pee in a cup?” I try to laugh, but humor is beyond me.
“We have much quicker and easier testing methods these days. Let’s get you up on the bed, and I’ll examine your tummy.”
Glancing at the strip on her desk, I wonder how long until my fate will be decided. As if reading my mind, she says, “It will take a few minutes.”
Cold fingers poke at my lower abdomen. “I’d like to do an internal examination. If you could remove everything from the waist down, please.”
Panic looms, and I glance over at Kassidy. “Is there something wrong?”
The doctor spins a radiology machine around near my head and prepares a lengthy dildo-shaped probe with gel after checking the test strip and discarding it. “No, but you are pregnant.”
Forgetting how to breathe, my head spins violently, and I’m on the verge of passing out.
“Deep breath, Sophia.” A paper bag is supported at my mouth, and the doctor’s words pull me from my state of sheer panic.
“This is the second panic attack today?” she asks, glancing across at Kassidy for confirmation.
“I believe so, yes.”
“Relax, Sophia. I want you to focus on your breathing and keep using the bag while we have a look at what’s going on.”
Ten minutes later, Dr. Lafferty orders me to get dressed and asks Kassidy to slip out and get me a cup of water. “I’d say you’re about six weeks along, and given your elevated levels of exhaustion and the panic attacks, I’m going to write you a prescription for some pre-natal vitamins and suggest you visit a psychologist.”
“I am a psychologist,” I groan, hating I’m in this position.
“Then you know how important it is to talk to someone outside of your personal situation. I’m a doctor, Sophia, it doesn’t mean I can diagnose and treat myself. We, as professionals, need the advice and guidance of others in our field from time to time. And your time has come.”
Kassidy enters the room with water, and I chuckle absentmindedly. “Six weeks pregnant and in need of a psych. Who would’ve thought?” I joke.
Sympathy pours over me from both directions as I try to push back the tears invading my vision. “This can’t be happening.”
“I suggest you consider your options, have a read through this material, and see someone as soon as possible.”
Taking the pamphlets, I thank her for ruining my life. Well, I didn’t outright say it, but when the words left my mouth, that’s exactly what I was thinking.
