Along Came Trouble(63)

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. They rode the elevator to her doctor’s office on the third floor. Caleb glanced over at her and gave her a trademark smirk, probably trying to put her at ease. He looked particularly heart-throbbish today in a black button-up and black slacks. “Nice parasol, Buckeye,” she said.

“Thanks, Munchkin.”

Her phone buzzed again, letting her know she had texts piling up. She ignored it.

When it was her turn to go into the examining room, Caleb rose to his feet, clearly intending to come with her.

“You can stay in the waiting room with the husbands and boyfriends,” she said. “I don’t need an escort.”

“Too bad. You’re getting one.”

So he tagged along as she got weighed and had her blood pressure taken, and then he posted himself outside the exam room door, which meant that the whole time the nurse was asking her the same sixty-seven tired questions somebody asked every time she came in for a checkup, Carly had an image of Caleb in her head, lounging in the hallway and charming the pants off the staff.

An image that made her angry, because she wanted Caleb to be Jamie, joking with the receptionist or sitting with her in exam room, holding her hand.

And she wanted herself to stop wanting that.

The doctor arrived and asked her the sixty-seven questions over again, same as always. Carly’s phone buzzed for the third or fourth time. The Wombat kicked her hard in the bladder.

Back off, Buddy. It’s probably just Nana wanting to know if I’ll bring her bing cherries and bikini wax, or some other god-awful combination of things.

The Wombat gave her another sound punt.

Fine. I’ll check the damn phone. You happy now?

When Dr. Gordon’s back was turned, Carly slid the phone out of her pocket. Every text was from Jamie.

JCallahan: R u OK?

JCallahan: TMZ sez u r @ hospital.

JCallahan: Call me.

JCallahan: Srsly. Call me.

She turned the phone off.

Dr. Gordon sighed. This was nothing new. Dr. Gordon was something of a freak of nature, built like a linebacker, with the bedside manner of a clinically depressed clown. She had the clown feet, too, tricked out today in the longest pair of sad beige flats Carly had ever seen.

But she was good people. She’d received the Nana stamp of approval.

“Your blood pressure is still too high,” Dr. Gordon said.

“Oh. Bad high, or just let’s-keep-an-eye-on-it high?”

“Bed-rest high.”

Carly looked down at the Wombat-bump. “Preeclampsia.” She’d read her pregnancy books. At one time, she’d read nothing but pregnancy books, one after another. She knew the score.

“Possibly preeclampsia,” echoed the good doctor, with an expression that suggested she was going to off herself as soon as she left the room.

“That’s not good.” Carly tried to think of something funny to say to deflect the worry, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

Sliding her hand into her pocket, she wrapped her fingers around her phone. It was so pitiful to want Jamie here. No doubt the urge would pass as soon as she got her land legs back. She only wanted him because he’d shared so much of this pregnancy with her, and because she’d just had such a shock. A really f*cking awful shock.

“Do you have anyone who can help you? You’re going to need family or friends to take care of you.”

Jamie.

But Jamie was gone.

“Caleb,” she said, clutching the phone so tight her fingers started to hurt. “He’s right outside.”





Chapter Sixteen



Carly was white, her lips compressed in a flat line. She looked like hell.

The doctor offered him her hand. “Thanks for coming in, Mr. Clark.” She was younger than him and nearly as tall, with a long face and kind eyes.

“Carly has elevated blood pressure,” she explained. “We’ve been keeping an eye on it, but it’s not coming down, and combined with the protein in her urine, we need to be concerned about the possibility of preeclampsia. I’m putting her on a modified form of bed rest.”

“What does that involve?”

“She’ll be permitted to leave her bed for bathroom visits, and she can spend two hours a day sitting up on a bed or couch. I don’t want her walking around or climbing up and down stairs any more than necessary. She’s going to need help. She tells me you can be counted on to assist her.”