Page 62 of Wicked Prince

"Thanks," I say, going back to attempting to occupy myself with my phone and not the fact that I'm waiting on absolute confirmation that my whole world is falling apart.

It doesn't take long, at least. Part of me wishes it would now. The man who enters a few minutes later is around Dad's age with gray around his temples, which immediately puts me on edge.

"Hello, Ms. Donovan," he says in a pleasant enough tone, glancing down at the tablet in his hand. Guess the walk-in has gone fully digital. "How are you doing today?"

"I've been better," I admit sheepishly, shaking his hand.

He gives me a knowing look. "Sounds like you're having a bit of a scare."

"Was the test positive?" I ask, my voice sounding strained, but not nearly as much as I'd expect.

He chuckles. "I'm afraid we won't know that for a day or so, but you'll be the first to know as soon as the results get back from the lab."

"Okay," I say hoarsely. "And if it is positive?"

"Well, then we can discuss your options from there," he answers in a careful tone. "I take it that would be unwelcome news."

"To say the least," I sigh. "I'm still in school. I'm not ready for a baby anytime in the near future."

He nods thoughtfully. "Well, like I said, there are other options we can discuss. But there's no sense worrying too much until we have those results."

"What are the odds an over-the-counter test could be wrong?" I ask warily.

He hesitates. "Quite slim," he admits. "But still, stranger things have happened."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Have there been any unusual symptoms that made you take the test in the first place?" he asks, looking back down at his tablet.

"Nausea," I say. "Not just in the morning, though."

The lines around his mouth wrinkle. "It rarely is, I'm afraid."

So much for that little straw I was grasping onto. "I've been kind of on edge lately, too, but that could be for any number of reasons."

"According to your history, you're quite healthy otherwise," he remarks. "I wouldn't worry too much about the symptoms, but if the nausea is causing you trouble, I can prescribe something."

"That would be great," I say, resisting the urge to ask for a Xanax prescription as well. I'm pretty sure they don't even make doses high enough to touch the existential terror I'm feeling at the moment. "What about the high blood pressure?"

"That could certainly be explained by the situation," he says, reaching for a cuff hanging on the wall. "But we'll check again just to be sure."

I try to sit still and breathe deeply as he fastens the cuff around my upper arm, but my thoughts keep drifting toward Lorenzo. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I try to focus on my breathing. It’s probably just Anthony wondering where I am.

The doctor finally takes the cuff off and puts his stethoscope back around his neck. "Still a little high, but not as bad as before. I want you to take it again the next time you're at the pharmacy, and come back to see me if it's still up there."

"Okay," I answer, watching as he goes over to the door. "That's it?"

"That's it for today," says the doctor. "Someone should be calling you in the next day or so with the results. If it's longer than that, feel free to call back."

"Right. Thank you," I mumble as he leaves the room.

Now I just have to live in unresolved anxiety for the next twenty-four hours or so. No biggie.

Out in the waiting room, Anthony looks up expectantly. I walk over to grab my coat off the chair next to him and shake my head.

"No news yet."

"Seriously?" He grimaces. "That's rude."

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