Page 194 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“The foetuses both appear to be within the expected growth rate for a multiple pregnancy,” She smiled, a picture of serenity as she sought to ease Dante’s concerns. “As I said before each pregnancy can be different, including the way some women carry.”

I swallowed, slow and hard. “W-what are my options?”

Dante stiffened immediately. “Options? What do you mean? Options?”

The doctor shot me an encouraging look, her focus was solely on me as Dante spluttered at my side. She was curiously watching the frantic movements of my fingers and I stopped scratching my pinkie.

Blinking fast and fighting the urge to hurl, I ignored Dante and asked in a tiny voice, “I do have options, right?”

She nodded slowly, her features softened but her tone was firm and full of support. “Yes, you do.”

“What options?” Dante hissed under his breath.

The doctor, a woman who had maintained an ongoing friendly demeanour, abruptly levelled Dante with a not-so-professional look. It was gone in an instant, but I had seen it and I felt marginally better.

“Do you mind waiting outside?” she asked Dante. It wasn’t really a question. Her behaviour screamed ‘get out’, yet that professional smile was back in place.

“Madi?” Dante looked to me, uncertain and unwilling to shift an inch.

“I’ll be fine,” I avoided his gaze. “Just wait outside.”

“But-”

“Fucking wait outside, Dante.” I growled.

He stood up and touched my shoulder. I raised my eyes to his. Dante didn’t say anything, but I could see the unspoken plea in his eyes as he clutched the sonogram picture.

“I’ll see you out there.” I whispered, breaking our intense gaze. The moment he left I offered my apologies to the doctor for the swearing. She waved them away and we discussed things. Wediscussed the options.

I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my coat then spat once more. The taste of bile across my tongue made me want to puke again. This wasn’t morning sickness, I was just physically sick with shock. Dante patted my back and murmured soothing words under his breath. The SUV was still running, the passenger door still open from when I had practically launched myself out the vehicle after begging Dante to make an impromptu stop. The people walking by on the pavement gave us a mix of fleeting looks. Disgust featured prominently but a few had looked genuinely concerned. They majority probably thought I was suffering the aftereffects of binging on alcohol. It had only just gone past mid-day.

“Feel better?” Dante asked as he gently herded me back into the vehicle.

I slumped against the upholstery without responding and Dante sighed before shutting the door. Since leaving A&E he had bombarded me with questions, all of which had been ignored as the world as I knew it came to an end.

Once he climbed back in behind the wheel he reached over to squeeze my knee before pulling away from the curb. “Talk to me, sweet cheeks.”

“Kryptonite,” I muttered.

“What?” Dante glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. “Hey, buckle up.”

“His stubble,” I explained, slowly buckling up. “That’s my kryptonite. I would’ve been fine if he didn’t have the stubble. This wouldn’t have happened.”

“You’re not making sense,” Dante warned.

“Ruined,” I was starting to get angry. My abject despair was making way for rage. Of course, I was to blame for the current predicament I found myself in. A woman’s reproductive well-being should be her own responsibility, I knew this, I should have known better. I wasn’t some uninformed naïve teenager. I was a grown woman, an adult female living in the liberal Western world who had access to birth control. I should have damned well known better. But I didn’t want to shoulder the blame just yet, so I focused it on thefucker who helped get me here.

“He’sruinedme.” I slammed my hand over the dashboard. “Fucking ruined me!”

“Madi, calm down,” Dante jerked in alarm. “Who? Who’s ruined you?”

“Matthew Bradley.” I spat out. “That fucking fuck. Oh, he’s fucked things right up. Fucking piece of shit bastard. He’s ruined me and I hate him. I fuckinghatehim.”

“Matt? He’s the father?” Dante asked, shocked if his expression was anything to go off.

“Of course he is, you ass.” I huffed. “Who the hell else would it be? You fucking asshole. Are you implying I’m a slut? That I wouldn’t know who the father is?”

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