Page 103 of Making Choices

“Sounds like a plan,” Bebe replies as a short woman with strawberry blonde hair enters through a separate door.

“Good afternoon, Lilianna,” the spectacled doctor greets me as she bustles into her consulting room.

“Hi.”

She looks at Bebe then Slash. Her gaze fixes on the patches on his cut and she scowls at her fellow doctor. “I wasn’t aware there’d be an entourage.”

“Last minute change of plans,” Bebe rushes to tell her.

“Hmmm.”

A chill takes over the room. Dr Squire exchanges an icy look with Bebe before fixing her attention on Slash. “Are you the father?”

For the second time, Bebe answers for us. “No. This is Carter Hudson. We’re, ah, kind of seeing each other... he’s here for moral support as a friend of Lily’s ex-fiancé.”

My mouth is in action before my brain. “I’d really appreciate if you’d call me Anna.”

“Ah, yes.” The gleam of victory returns to Bebe’s emerald gaze. “I forgot you’re sensitive about things like that.”

“Bebe,” Slash warns in a growly tone. “Might wanna think before you speak today.”

“Why don’t you two duck off for a cup of coffee or a bite to eat?” my doctor interjects.“My assistant will ring you once we’re finished.”

“No, I’m—” I hold up a hand to halt Slash’s protests.

“It’s fine.” He frowns at me. “Go. Please.”

“Okay.” His agreement is begrudging, but it’s obvious that Bebe thinks it’s a win. The smirk is wiped off her face when he stops in front of me and catches my chin with his fingers. Tilting my head back, Slash stoops low. He presses a kiss to the end of my nose. “We’ll be in the waitin’ area. You need me, I can be back here in thirty seconds.”

“I appreciate that, but it’s unnecessary.” Fixing my eyes on Bebe’s, I continue. “Take your girlfriend for a coffee. She seems in need of some alone time with you.”

Gauntlet laid, I brace for Bebe’s reaction.

She simply sneers at me, then leads Slash out of the consulting room.

“Let’s get this done,” I tell Dr. Squire. Handing her the pamphlets Bebe gave me, I add. “I’d like an IUD inserted too, if possible?”

The doctor quirks her lips in a tight smile. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Is my appointment today inconveniencing you?” I decide to lay my cards on the table because I’m not too keen on having a woman who seems to have taken a dislike to me on sight messing around with my delicate parts. “I can find someone else—”

“Oh, no,” Dr. Squire protests. Her icy façade melts a little. “I was thrown by your company, however assisting you is no trouble.”

I chalk up her strange behaviour to being uncomfortable around bikers. It’s irritating, and I want to tell her that Slash is one of the most honourable men on this planet, that he’d give the shirt off his back to a stranger in need, that he’d literally kill to protect the people he loves, but I don’t bother. People like the doctor refuse to accept that life isn’t black and white. They live for their rules, choosing to praise authority figures whilst looking down their nose at anyone who dares to question our society’s artificial constructs.

Having dealt with enough attitudes like hers during my brief infamy as the girl who accused the son of the Minister for Police of rape, I know it’s futile trying to explain why her outlook is wrong. In my twenty-two years on this planet, I’ve learnt the hard way that it’s humanity’s self-styled righteous populace we should all worry about, not motorcycle clubs with their iron-clad moral code and preference for natural justice.

The so-called respectable establishment commits more sins than any biker I know.

But they use the law to excuse their evil.

Whereas the Shamrocks take responsibility for the pain and suffering they cause, civvies are apt to deflect and blame.

“Due to the level of bleeding Dr. Du Bois described, I’m going to give you a spinal block. Once it’s had time to work, I’ll dilate your cervix and we’ll decide from there whether you need a curette or vacuum suction.”

The matter-of-fact way she states what’s about to happen has the opposite effect on me.

My pulse spikes and my palms turn clammy.

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