Page 174 of Three Irish Kings
Irene claps her hands together like the child she never grew out of and skips out of my room.
I plop down on the bed, my shoulders slumping. I put my head in my hands and let myself cry.
It’s difficult to be devastated and not show it, pretend that I’m happy here, being friends with Irene.
But I have a plan, as crazy as it might be. I still have my letter opener, stashed underneath my mattress…
A knock on my door has me lifting my head. I slip the letter opener into my pocket quickly in case I don’t get another chance.
“Come in.”
A man with reddish hair and dimples walks in, carrying a small black bag and smiling. His smile fades when he sees my face.
“You must be the doctor.”
“Medic, actually. I don’t have an M.D.” He frowns, getting closer to me and putting a hand on my face. “Who did this to you? Reese?”
“Aye.”
He has a Scottish brogue instead of Irish, which isn’t surprising. A lot of Scotsmen end up in the Irish mob.
“He’s a fucking menace to society. And not in a good way.”
I nod. “I'm inclined to agree with you."
“I'm Sam.” He points at his chest like he's Tarzan and I’m Jane.
I smile slightly, finding it kind of cute.He’scute, even my heartbroken self can tell that. “Maggie.”
“Well, Maggie, let’s see if that nose is broken.”
“Would you mind checking my belly first? Please? It’s… important.” I don’t want to tell him the truth, but I need to know there is nothing wrong with my baby.
Sam looks at me for a few seconds, narrowing his eyes, then he nods, sitting next to me on the bed. “I can give you something for the pain before I start.”
“I—” I don’t know how to tell him that I’m pregnant. “I don’t like being out of control, so maybe I shouldn’t.”
“It’s safe, I promise.” His eyes pierce through mine, and in that moment, I feel like I can trust him, so I nod.
He rifles through his bag and pulls out some Tylenol.
I smile, relieved. “Thank you.”
After heading to the bathroom to get some water, I take the pills and sit back next to him.
He looks at me for another moment. “This might hurt a bit.”
I smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I’m tougher than I look.”
He nods, but his eyes show his compassion. “Lie back, please.”
I do, and he pulls my shirt up and starts palpating.
Each touch from him feels like a knife tearing through me, but I bite the inside of my cheek and push through the pain.
“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, but I need to perform a vaginal exam, if you want a more accurate assessment.”
As he puts on some nitrile gloves, I turn my face away from him and pull my sweatpants and my underwear down to my knees.
