Doctor Daddy

by Crowne, K. C.

  I handed it over to her, and when our hands touched, there was that familiar electrical spark. A warmth rushed through me. I wanted to reach out, to take her hand in mine and pull her close to me.

  Instead, I shoved my hands deep into my pockets.

  “Hope, if you ever have any questions or just want to talk, here’s my number,” I said, handing her a business card.

  She looked down at the card in my hand for a long time before taking it.

  “Thank you,” she said. “But I think I’ll be fine. Do you mind if I change back into my clothes now?”

  I nodded, and somehow managed to leave the room. As I stepped into the hallway, I fell against the door, feeling like I could breathe for the first time in years.

  Ooo000ooo

  “What do you mean it’s not your child?” Michael asked me when we went out for drinks later that evening. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive,” I said. ‘There’s no way Whitney is pregnant with my baby.”

  Whitney, no, but Hope? I wasn’t so sure yet. I hadn’t told anyone about my run-in with Hope yet. I needed time to process it. If she was carrying my child, would it be worth possibly uprooting her life to be part of the child’s life?

  Michael sighed, shaking his head. “Man, she’s really doing a number on your reputation in the medical community though. What are you going to do about it?”

  Michael was also a doctor in my office, and the closest thing I had to a best friend. We didn’t get to talk much - we were both too busy - but we tried to go out a couple times a month. We both needed some time to let loose, and what better way than to spend time with a fellow doctor, someone who understood the hardships you dealt with day after day?

  “I know, and I don’t know what to do about it,” I said. “Besides a paternity test when the baby is born.”

  “There are DNA tests you can do in utero, you know.”

  “Of course I know,” I said. “But I’m not sure it’s worth the risk to the child. I may want the truth to come out, but not if there’s potential harm to the baby.”

  “You’re a good man, Colin,” Michael said. “Many guys wouldn’t care about some other man’s child.”

  “Well, considering caring about babies is basically my whole life, did you expect any less from me?”

  “Not really,” Michael said, shrugging. “But the rest of the world doesn’t know you. In fact, the rest of the world thinks you’re some cocky, arrogant know-it-all because they can’t handle that you’re better than them.”

  “Or maybe I am a cocky, arrogant know-it-all,” I said, chuckling as I downed the rest of my drink.

  “Only sometimes,” Michael said.

  “Oh, by the way, I sent a new patient your way,” I said. My hands began sweating as soon as I thought about Hope again. “She’s late twenties, first pregnancy and diabetic. No problems just yet.”

  “And why did you send her my way instead of taking her on yourself?” Michael asked.

  “I have to prioritize,” I lied. “She’s not as high-risk as some of my other patients; figured it would be good to keep my schedule open in case there’s an emergency.”

  Michael cocked his eyebrows at me over his drink. I’d never passed on a patient, no matter how simple the case might be. It was a first for me.

  “Maybe Paris did you some good after all,” he said, taking another drink from his glass. “You’ve seemed different since you’ve gotten back, yet you refuse to tell me what happened.”

  I shrugged. What could I say? I didn’t talk much about what had happened with Hope. Michael was a happily married man with two kids and a dog. He had no idea what it was like being me. He hadn’t been single in years, married his college sweetheart, and the rest was history. Besides, we didn’t really talk about the mushy, sappy stuff, and I wasn’t about to start now.

  No, what had happened with Hope in Paris was our little secret. It felt too special to share. Even if she had written about it.

  All that time, I hadn’t even thought about the article she wrote about our trip, but suddenly, while sitting at the bar with Michael, all I wanted to do was get home and read it. I wanted to relive the moments and to see how she felt about it all.

  “Hey, man, it’s getting late,” I said, feigning a yawn. “Think I’m going to head home.”

  “Yeah, the wife is probably waiting up for me,” Michael said with a devious grin.

  “Say hello to Shannon and the kids, will ya?”

  “Of course,” Michael said. “And Shannon keeps asking when you’re coming over for dinner. Since she heard about Whitney, she wants to set you up with one of her friends.”

  I cringed at the thought. Sure, I was lonely at times, but had I been ready for a relationship, I’d have pursued Hope more. Knowing that she was local to me now, well, I was kicking myself a bit for not saying something while in Paris. Now it was too late, and part of me was angry about that. While the other part of me was relieved, because God knows, I’d make a terrible husband and father. Whoever this Jeremy guy was, hopefully he’d be better.

  Michael and I parted ways, and I took an Uber home since I’d been drinking. I was anxious to get back home and do my research, see if I could find the article Hope had written about us. Not sure why it was that important - maybe I was a masochist - but I had to know if I wasn’t the only one kicking myself for not pursuing things further.

  Part of me was curious to find hints. Was she carrying my baby? And if so, what was I going to do about it?

  Colin

  How did I find myself sitting outside a Hollywood cafe on a Saturday instead of savoring some downtime at home? Don’t ask me. The place was filled to the brim with tourists, folks who come to Hollywood thinking it’s all glitz and glam, when in reality, it’s a shithole and one of those places I’d prefer never to visit again.

  But there I was, wasting some precious free time in the ninth circle of hell. I told myself I had to be crazy, especially considering the reason for my visit to that particular restaurant, but all of that got pushed aside when I saw his face.

  You see, after meeting with Michael, I went home and read the article from Hope. I knew her last name now and reading it - reading about how I changed her for the better - made me realize it wasn’t just me who had feelings for her. Pretty deep feelings too, from what I gathered from her article.

  Not just that, but reading about our adventures together, the fun we had, it all brought back so many memories. I wanted her in ways I couldn’t even comprehend. I wanted her in my life. Yes, it was early, but if she was indeed pregnant with my child, I’d stand up and do what needed to be done.

  Including hunting down her supposed boyfriend Jeremy, because apparently, I had questions. Or maybe because I was losing my mind over a girl.

  I found Hope’s Facebook pretty easily. I scrolled through her Facebook out of curiosity, and that’s when I came across an old photo of her with a guy at the beach. It simply said, “Jeremy and me.”

  The guy was pretty average in every way. Brown hair, brown eyes, a fairly normal face. She was smiling in the photo - clearly happy to be at the beach with her boyfriend - while he looked annoyed. I knew it was just one photograph, one little slice of their life. He might not be annoyed, it might be just the timing of the photo. But it still didn’t sit right with me. How could anyone stand next to Hope and not look deliriously happy to be in her presence?

  The guy seemed like a total douche. I had to find out for myself.

  Which was how I ended up in a shitty restaurant on Hollywood Blvd. Because when I clicked on Jeremy’s profile, it listed it as his place of employment. He was a waiter I shouldn’t judge his career choices, but I had to wonder how he could support a child on a waiter’s salary and whether the guy had any other plans for his life.

  Jeremy wasn’t my waiter, because of course that would have been too easy. I just ordered something to drink, and then paid for it, leaving the table and my drink behind. I saw Jeremy heading toward the
back of the restaurant, so I hurried and followed him, stopping him before he got to the door.

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  “The bathrooms are for customers only,” he said, his voice sound dull and bored. “But they’re on the right side of the bar. Just get a key from the bartender if you’re a customer.”

  “I’m not looking for the bathroom,” I said. “I was-- well, I was hoping I could ask you a couple questions?”

  Jeremy looked at me with a deadpan stare. “Ask me some questions? Are you some kind of reporter or something?”

  “No, why would I--”

  “Because if so, you need to talk to my agent,” he said. His eyes lit up a bit. He looked me up and down, studying my attire. He seemed impressed. “Then again, you look like you’re from an established outlet, so I’ll make an exception.”

  “Why would I want to interview you?” I asked, feeling a little dumbfounded.

  “I don’t know, you’re the one who said you wanted to ask me some questions,” he said. “I assumed it had to do with my role in Space Monsters of Zen 2.”

  “Space Monsters of Zen 2? You mean to tell me there was a first one?”

  “No, that’s the planet’s name - Zen 2. You know what, never mind. If you’re not a reporter, I ain’t got time for this.”

  “I am a reporter,” I lied. I felt ashamed for doing it, and I really hadn’t had a chance to think this through - what did I expect to get out of Jeremy? I wasn’t sure, but I felt like I needed to know something. I needed answers.

  “Alright then,” Jeremy said, looking at the clock. “If you want to chat, I get off in half an hour. Meet me at the bar?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  What the hell was I doing? I had no clue. It felt a little stalkerish, and I considered skipping out of the restaurant entirely. Just leaving without asking him anything. Then I remembered why I was there. Hope was pregnant, and even if she wanted to deny it, the timing meant it could be my baby. I didn’t want to ruin her happy little life, but I had to know what was going on. I had to know if what she’d told me was true.

  I sat down at the bar, and a guy named Barry served me a drink while I waited. It was watered down and overpriced, but there was no way I wanted to leave without some answers.

  Half an hour later, on the dot, Jeremy came over to me at the bar and sat down. When Barry asked him if he’d wanted to order a drink, Jeremy responded, “Nah man, your drinks are garbage and overpriced.”

  Well, at least we agree on something, I thought.

  Barry continued. “You need to order something in order to sit here, man. Those are the rules.”

  Jeremy sighed and pulled out some dollar bills. He counted a few out, then said, “Dude, I can’t. Just let me have a break this one time? I need my tips for gas.”

  “I got it,” I said, slipping a five-dollar bill over to Barry. “Get him a soft drink of his choice.”

  “Thanks, man,” Jeremy said, running a hand through his scruffy brown hair. I had to admit, there was a certain surfer boy charm to him that I hadn’t noticed before. I guess I could see why Hope liked him. Maybe. “What’s your name again?”

  “Uh, Colin,” I said. “You can call me Colin.”

  Crap. I shouldn’t have used my real name. Just in case it got back to Hope. Too late now, I thought.

  “Alright, Colin. So, what did you want to know about the movie?”

  “Well, to be honest, I wanted to know more about the man behind the character of-- umm, what’s your character’s name again?”

  “Cyborg Number Four,” he said with a huge grin. “I know it doesn’t sound like much, but most of the characters don’t have names. Only the main guys.”

  “Okay, so, umm, tell me a little about yourself, Jeremy?” I asked.

  “Shouldn’t you be writing this down?” he asked.

  I didn’t have anything to write it down, so I pulled out my phone and hit record instead. “I prefer recording interviews, so I can go back and listen to your exact words, make sure I get it right.”

  “Got it. That works for me,” he said. “So, what do you want to know?”

  “Well, let’s start with the basics, are you married? Have any kids? What is your life like outside of the movies?”

  Jeremy looked disappointed, and said, “Aren’t we talking about the movie?”

  “We’ll get to that, I promise,” I said. “I just like to know who I’m talking to,”

  “Alright, to be fair, my life is pretty boring. Besides this movie, I work here. That’s about it.”

  “No wife? No girlfriend? Nothing?”

  “Nope. Well, I mean, I’m sorta seeing this girl I met here last week, but we’re not serious.”

  “Oh yeah?” my ears perked up. “Would you be okay with me sharing that?”

  “Sure, why not? Her name is Carmen and she’s an up-and-coming actress too, I’m sure she’d love the free press.”

  Carmen. Not Hope. No mention of Hope at all, and he isn’t afraid of me writing about Carmen, meaning she’s not a secret. My palms grew sweaty, and the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

  Hope had lied to me.

  She and Jeremy were not together again. That wasn’t his baby. They weren’t a big, happy family.

  Clenching the glass in my hand, I totally forgot where I was at or what I was doing. Rage filled me both inside and out. She’d lied to me. She was there, in my office, pregnant with my child and she’d lied to me.

  I heard the sound of glass shattering before I felt the pain or saw the blood. I’d squeezed the glass to hard, breaking it in my fist. To be fair, it was a rather cheap glass, one that wouldn’t take much to break, but I’d done it with my bare hands.

  Jeremy just looked at me slack-jawed. Barry joined him.

  “Hey, man, you’re going to have to pay for that,” Barry said.

  “No problem,” I muttered. My hand was a bloody mess, however. “Can you hand me some paper towels first?”

  “Sure,” Barry said, handing me the entire roll.

  I rolled some off, wrapping my hand before reaching for my wallet with my non-injured hand. Jeremy just stared at me, not saying a word until I paid for the cheap ass glass. Barry got to work cleaning it up.

  “So, what else did you want to know?” Jeremy asked. “I’d love to tell you how I got the part, about how I know the guy who wrote the script and--”

  “I’m sorry, I think I need to get this taken care of before I bleed to death,” I said, holding up my hand. The paper towels were soaked through. I wouldn’t bleed to death, but I wanted to get out of there. Now that I had my answer, I saw no reason to stay put and listen to more about his ridiculous movie.

  “Oh, okay,” Jeremy said. “So, umm, will you be in touch or should I, like, call you?”

  “I’ll call you,” I said, standing up from the bar and hurrying out. I didn’t even get the kid’s number, not that it mattered. I had no real intention of following up with him. I felt bad for getting his hopes up, but that wasn’t something I could fix now.

  I had my answers. Now I needed to determine what I was going to do about it.

  Hope

  “You saw Dr. Pierce first, right?” Dr. Luna asked after our exam. “I’m curious why you didn’t continue seeing him. I’ve never heard someone having a complaint.”

  Dr. Luna was a younger woman doctor, new to the field. Some might say she was a risky bet, but after visiting a number of specialists, none had really clicked with me. Dr. Luna was soft spoken, sympathetic and seemed like someone I could trust. This was only our first visit together, but so far, I was impressed. I’d felt confident that I’d found my doctor, at last.

  “To be honest? I just prefer a female doctor when it comes to things like this,” I said. That wasn’t entirely true, but it was an easier explanation that the real one.

  “I understand,” she said, offering a friendly smile. “And so far, you seem to be having a problem-free pregnancy, but it should be noted that if prob
lems develop, I might need to refer you to Dr. Pierce in the future.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” I said.

  “Yes, we will,” she said. “Hopefully things continue going well, and we'll be delivering a healthy, happy baby.

  Even though a couple weeks had passed, it was still hard for me to believe that I was pregnant. It was even harder for me to believe that I’d run into Colin again. That seemed too weird to be true, and thus, I tried not to think about it too much. I had lied to him out of sheer panic at seeing him and there was no way I could take it back now. I’d just have to deal with my poor decision-making skills.

  As soon as I thought that, however, guilt washed over me. I loved the child inside of me already. It was so hard to explain, and while my life might turn into a huge mess, I was attached to my baby and very much looking forward to being his or her mother.

  “When do you think we can find out the sex?” I asked.

  “Usually around eighteen weeks,” she said. “”

  “I’d love that,” I said. Without realizing it, I was rubbing my belly. It had already started growing, faster than I’d anticipated. I had a little baby bump, and depending on what I wore, people instantly knew I was pregnant. So many strangers offered up congratulations everywhere I went. It was odd. Nice, but strange.

  “Well then, if you don’t have any more questions for me, we can get you to the next room for your ultrasound. After that, I’d like to see you at least every other week. At least until we can tell that the baby is growing like normal and that you’re keeping your blood sugar under control.”

  “Yes, that works for me. Anything I need to do,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

  “Good. Congrats mama, you’re going to do just fine,” Dr. Luna said, offering me a friendly smile that warmed me to my core.

  She walked me into the ultrasound room, and I met with the tech who was setting up the monitor. I laid on the table and the woman squirted warm gel on my belly before placing a wand she called a transducer over my belly and moving it around. After just a few seconds I heard a rhythmic thumping noise come loudly from the speakers attached to the monitor.