Them (Him #3) (5 page)

“It’s tripping me out,” I continue. “And giving me a weird craving for nectarines. Has that ever happened to you after an appointment here?”

“Stop,” she pleads. “You’re killing me.”

“Only making an observation.”

She lifts her head and beams at me. There’s my girl. I press my lips to hers and her name is called. She blushes that we were caught kissing and stands as a nurse holds open a door for us. We pass empty rooms with examination tables. My curiosity gets the better of me as I pause to peer into one of them.
Huh. So that’s what stirrups look like.

The room we’re led to is less examination room, more office. Her doctor, who I had incorrectly assumed was a woman but actually is not a bad-looking dude, stands to greet us. We are absolutely talking about this on the ride home.

“Mrs. Price, Mr. Price. Please, have a seat,” he says after shaking our hands.

“Our normal course of action for couples concerned about fertility is to recommend the husband visit a urologist to have his sperm count captured. While you’re here, I’d like to also get some blood work and do an internal sonogram today.”

Internal sonogram?

Dr. Stacey stands and calls for the nurse who walked us back.

We follow her to a small room where she gets Sarah’s weight, blood pressure, and draws two vials of blood before having Sarah go pee in a cup. After that, she leads us to another room with an examination table which also has a TV monitor.

The nurse asks Sarah to step into a bathroom attached to the room, undress from the waist down and come back into the room with a hospital gown on. After Sarah follows the instructions and gets situated on the table, the nurse shows her a wand-looking thing and explains that it’s inserted inside her for the sonogram.

Inside her?

Sarah’s eyes widen briefly and she reaches for my hand. The nurse turns on the TV thing and performs the internal sonogram. I think she can tell Sarah and I are nervous, so she tries to distract both of us as she explains that she’s taking internal pictures which Dr. Stacey will review with us. The whole thing is over in ten minutes.

The nurse prints off the pictures while Sarah gets dressed. Then she walks us back to Dr. Stacey’s office. As we’re sitting, she points one picture out in particular to the doctor.

After she leaves, shutting the door behind her, he speaks. “It’ll be a week before we get the results of your blood work back. I’ll give you a call at that time. My nurse did notice something during your sonogram that could be an issue.”

He holds one picture up for both of us to see. It has a computer-generated circle drawn over a cloudy-looking spot with some numbers typed next to it.

“It appears there is a growth currently in your uterus. I don’t want to alarm you. This is perfectly normal but may be a reason you’re having issues conceiving. We’ll still need to get a current sperm count to rule that out first before we investigate this further.”

“Could it be cancerous?” Sarah stammers, clutching my knee.

“We will know more once we have your blood work back. However, in my experience and based on your history, this may be something as simple as a polyp, which are harmless. The reason it could be causing you to have difficulties conceiving is there is the potential the polyp in the uterus is taking up valuable real estate and tricking your body into thinking you’re already pregnant.”

Sarah exhales, her grip loosening. “So, you don’t think it’s cancer?”

“I do not.”

My turn to exhale. “Do I need a referral for the urologist?”

He leans back in his chair. “Ask the receptionist when you check out. It depends on your healthcare provider.”

I nod, lifting Sarah’s hand from my leg and curling my fingers around it.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

Sarah shakes her head.

“Okay. I’d like to schedule another appointment for you, two weeks out, where we can go over the results from your blood work and hopefully have the results from Mr. Price’s urology appointment, as well.”

We both nod and stand to shake hands again before we walk out. During check-out, Sarah makes her next appointment and finds out we do not need a referral. The receptionist gives her a printout with the contact information of three offices nearby.

When we get outside, she passes me the keys before walking right to the passenger side of the car. My hands shake as I unlock it. We both sit quietly for a minute before turning to face each other.

“What if he’s wrong and it
is
cancer, Will?” Sarah whispers.

“He’s not wrong.” I have no clue but holy shit, she cannot have cancer.

“That was scary, Will.”

My hand goes to the back of her neck as I lean forward, pulling her until we meet in the middle of the central console and I can hold her. This is going to be the longest week of our lives while we wait for the results of the blood work to come back. I hate that she’s scared. I hate that I’m powerless to make it go away.

Now is not the time to tease her about getting dressed up for her good-looking doctor. I’m secure enough in my manhood and our marriage to not care what her doctor looks like. My priority right now is cheering her up. Sarah craves structure and absolutes; not knowing is not okay for her, and having to wait to find out isn’t helping.

“Want a waffle cone?”

She lifts her head and, with unshed tears glistening in her eyes, smiles and nods. Waffle cones it is. I drive on autopilot to the ice cream shop we’ve gone to since we were kids. I order two scoops of chocolate chip for Sarah and, to live a little, I go for one scoop of chocolate raspberry truffle and one scoop of mint chocolate chip.

We sit inside where it’s warmer and hold hands while we eat in silence. I don’t know about Sarah, but I’m wishing for simpler times that don’t involve sperm counts or blood work.

When we finish and head back to the car, I walk her to her door and lean her against it to kiss her. I don’t know what to say, but I hope my kiss does the speaking for me. I want her to know that no matter what happens, good or bad, she has me forever. That if there’s a reason we can’t have a baby of our own, I won’t care. That I’ll want her and only her for the rest of my life.

Sarah is it for me. Only once I’ve kissed all of that to her do I open her door. She reaches for my hand as soon as I’m in on my side. I lift her hand to my lips and grin at her. Whatever life throws at us, we’ll figure out together.

When we get back to the house, I ask if she wants me to stay.

“No,” she replies. “I know you’re worried about missing lunch with Logan.”

“Are you sure? You are more important to me.”

She smiles. “Yes, I’m just going to go lie down. We can hang out more when you get home from work.”

I lean over to kiss her. She’s right; I do worry about Logan. I had a meeting with his guidance counselor and our assistant principal to clue them in on his lunch schedule. The family situation is not unknown with the school. Luckily, last I heard his dad should be on the way home soon. Thankfully, Mrs. Cobb, the guidance counselor for our school, wasn’t adverse to him eating with me.

Logan is a good kid, and I have no idea if he’s getting enough food at home or not. If he’s on to me purposefully bringing too much food everyday so he has something to eat, he hasn’t said anything. At this point, as far as he knows, he’s doing me a favor. Since the temperature has been dropping, I also managed to get him to accept a couple of old hoodies of mine.

The kid is growing like a weed and outgrew his coat from last year. I know there are kids in worse-off situations, but I’ve made Logan my personal project. I was his age when I was a hungry kid, too. I was lucky to have the Millers to take care of me. Who knows what kind of trouble I’d get up to if I hadn’t been assigned that project with Sarah.

Our ice cream pit stop has me running late. By the time I make it to my classroom, I see Logan walking away.

“Hey, Logan. I’m here. Sorry I’m late.”

The relief that crosses his face kills me. I can’t let this kid down.

“Hey, Mr. Price.”

He stands next to me, waiting as I unlock my door and flip on the lights.

“So, how’s your day going, Logan?”

He shrugs, and instead of heading to the back of the class like he did in the beginning, he now sits at the table closest to my desk. He’s still on the quiet side but is opening up more and more every day.

“My grandpa had a rough night last night.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, buddy.”

He nods. It’s terrible that someone his age has to shoulder this much.

“I can’t wait for my dad to come home. I haven’t seen him in eight months.”

“What’s the last thing you heard on that?”

I pass him a chicken salad sandwich. I’ve started bringing a cooler to work.

He takes a bite, practically inhaling it before he answers, talking around the bits of food left in his mouth. “He has to get out-processed from that base first. It’s taking forever but should be done this week.”

“That’s great news, bud.”

“So, why were you late today?”

“My wife had to go to the doctor and I went with her.”

He keeps eating, but his eyes widen. “Is she okay?”

I nod, not knowing if I’m lying.

“That’s good.”

I grin at him and get to work.

Sarah

Why is the light on my phone blinking? I unlock my screen and see that I’ve missed a call from Dr. Stacey’s office. A call I’ve literally been waiting for all week. I’ve had my phone next to me all day long except for getting up just now to go get the mail. Is there some sort of radar that ensures you will miss whatever call you’re waiting for?

My leg shakes as I listen to the voicemail. Crap. They don’t tell me anything, just ask me to call them back. Is that bad? I stand once the phone starts ringing and start to pace back and forth across my office. Five steps and I’m across the room. I groan and move out into the hall so I have more space to cover as I pace.

I have to stop myself from throwing my phone when the receptionist tells me Dr. Stacey is currently with a patient and will have to call me back.
But he just called me!
I want to argue. I’m too polite, though, so I save my frustrated venting for after I’ve hung up with them.

I head back to my office and make an unsuccessful attempt at sorting the mail I dropped on my desk when I’d noticed my phone was blinking. My head isn’t in it; is this a bill, or junk mail? Who cares? Instead, I stare at my phone, willing it to ring. I also kinda-sorta have to pee but can’t make up my mind whether to go for it or hold it. I double-check to make sure the ringer is on at least three times before he calls back.

I’m on my way, phone in hand, to the half-bath when Dr. Stacey calls.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Mrs. Price?”

“Yes, this is she,” I whisper.

“This is Dr. Stacey. I wanted to call and let you know your blood work came back and was normal.”

“Oh, thank God,” I breathe.

“Has Mr. Price made his appointment with a urologist?”

I sag against the wall, relief hitting me. “Yes, he’s going tomorrow morning.”

“Good. Well, we’ll see you both back here in a week.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as I hang up, I call Will. I don’t even know if he has a class right now, but I have to tell him. He answers right away.

“Sarah.”

“My blood work is normal!” I shout.

“Oh, thank God.”

I start to laugh. “That’s what I said.”

“I love you, babe.”

I hold my phone with both hands, wishing I could hold him instead.

I’m suddenly choked up when I reply, “I love you, too.”

“Babe,” he says quietly.

I was so scared. I don’t know why I’m about to cry. It must be a happy cry or my body relaxing after being so stressed this past week. Even though I feel silly for being emotional, I don’t care.

“I’m taking you out tonight.”

I laugh. “It’s a date.”

After we hang up, I can’t hold it anymore and run to pee. Luckily, I have the house all to myself; otherwise, someone might wonder why I’m giggling on the toilet. I’m not even sure why I’m laughing. Maybe it’s because I was so afraid, and now it seems silly to have worked myself up that way.

Even though my doctor had seemed certain whatever growth was hanging out inside me wasn’t cancerous, I had been scared. So scared that neither Will nor I had told anyone about it, not even Sawyer.

It’s impossible to keep anything from her, so I’ve been ignoring her calls and texts. I owe her a call big-time.

I only hope she isn’t pissed at me for keeping this from her.

Phone still in my hand, I go right to her contact listing and call her.

“Oh, so you
are
alive,” she answers.

“Hi, babe.”

“You know, seeing as how my last text to you, um, two friggin’
days
ago was ‘are you alive,’ it’s nice to finally know for sure. Let me guess: you and Will have gotten into bondage and you were handcuffed to your bed.”