Dr. OB (St. Luke's Docuseries Book 1)

by Max Monroe

  As the squeezing, cramping pressure settled in my stomach, she rubbed at my wrist. “Want me to turn it up?”

  “Not really,” I answered honestly, and she laughed again.

  “You’re not even in active labor yet.”

  “What?” I shouted, and her laugh turned into a cackle. People lingered around us as my shouts turned pained when she racheted up the dial and started my next contraction.

  “Oh my God, I think my balls are swelling. Oh Jesus Christ in a tourniquet. Ooh. Oh, fuuuuudgesticks.”

  “Almost done,” Melody wheezed out through a chortle. “Just breathe.”

  “How do women do this? I mean, I’ve always known. But I’ve never known. You just can’t know until you know.”

  “Oh dear. And you haven’t even gotten to the bowling ball out of a tube part yet.”

  Panic overwhelmed me as I looked to the countdown screen on my right and strongly considered crying. Another contraction was going to start in twenty seconds, and I wasn’t going to be ready. Hell, I wouldn’t be ready in twenty years, but time wouldn’t wait for me.

  “Titties and whipped cream!” Thatch yelled from two beds down. “What the hell setting do you have that thing on, woman?”

  “What?” Cassie asked as a bead of sweat rolled off of his forehead. “You’re a big guy. You make big babies. Just making sure you get the real experience.”

  I closed my eyes tightly and let my head fall back on the bed. The sound of the two of them was the absolute last thing I’d want to listen to during labor.

  Meanwhile, a crowd was starting to form around my bed, patients and employees alike, and I wasn’t sure I liked the feel of that either. “Is this what it’s really like?” I asked all of them. “Just a crowd of strangers watching intently as you go through some of the most horrendous pain of your life?”

  Several of them nodded and laughed. “For about twelve hours,” one of them shouted.

  “Wow. What a horrifying miracle.”

  Melody’s laugh was contagious as she found humor in my torture. Honestly, with this woman, it didn’t really ever matter what she was laughing about, even if it was about me, as long as she was laughing.

  “Think you can take more?” Melody asked. I wanted to say no, but a sudden vision of her a couple of years down the road, laboring with our kid, made me reconsider.

  “Go ahead,” I offered. “Turn it all the way up. No reason to half-ass it. Plus,” I teased. “I want to hold my baby.”

  She did as instructed, turning the dial to the maximum and grabbing on to my hand for support. “Just don’t break my hand, okay?” she requested with a laugh.

  I wanted to agree, but as the pain started to roll through me, like an actual violent wave that pulled me under and held me there, I wasn’t sure I could follow through.

  “Ahh. Holy hell.” I grabbed my stomach and writhed. “Christ almighty, how is this natural?”

  I had to admit, I didn’t think I’d ever done anything that would give me as much perspective as this would. When women demanded the drugs, I’d be a lot more sympathetic to the speed with which it occurred—even if I had to drag an anesthesiologist up to the fourth floor myself.

  Feeling normal again, Melody and I took our place in the free care tent to help out with some of the patients who’d made their way down, desperate to see us. Our first one was sitting on the table with her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

  “Hi, Mrs. Kincaid,” Melody greeted, a caring hand to Esmeralda’s shoulder and genuine concern in her eyes. “What brings you down today? Have you had any prenatal care at all?”

  Esmeralda shook her head, just slightly, embarrassed, and I glanced down at her bountiful stomach. I’d have to take a measurement to be sure, but she couldn’t have been less than six months along. That much time with no prenatal care was risky, to say the least.

  “That’s okay. Don’t be ashamed, okay?” Melody comforted. “You care about your baby, we know that. That’s what brought you here today, right?”

  The patient nodded, a tear dripping from the corner of her eye before she could dash it away. Melody pulled her into a hug immediately, whispering in her ear, “Don’t worry. We’re here for you now. And you’ve come to the very best place you could have. Dr. Cummings is the best, and he’s going to do absolutely everything he can to help you.”

  God, I love her.

  Her passion and completely genuine concern for these women shone out of her like an actual light.

  These women needed her, and she needed somewhere to help them. I didn’t think I could make it happen on my own, but as I glanced up to the crowd and spotted not only my sister and Kline, but Thatch, Cassie, Wes, and Winnie, I knew I didn’t need to be able to.

  I had fantastic friends in high places.

  My fingers tapped gently yet determinedly against the keys as I finished typing up a few notes on my last patient follow-up call. The office had been empty for well over an hour, and I savored the peaceful silence while I checked off the final items of today’s to-do list.

  This weekend’s event had been a huge success. It had imbued me with pride and purpose and filled the tiniest hole in me that still needed filling—Will had managed to fill the rest.

  But as much as it filled my void, and as good as it felt, it only drove me harder. I needed to work harder, reach out more, help more women.

  Once Syreeta Johnson’s chart was updated with our earlier conversation, I saved the file and crossed her name off the Post-it note of patients I needed to call. Before I could move on to the next, my phone vibrated across the table with a message from my mom.

  Jazzercise Janet: Are you staying at Will’s tonight?

  Me: I’m not sure, I’m still at work. Why?

  Jazzercise Janet: Just wondering.

  That was a little weird, but I’d learned from the age of thirteen not even to bother with questioning Janet on her reasons or motives. Most times, I didn’t want to know. And unfortunately for me, she appeared persistent on keeping this conversation going.

  Jazzercise Janet: When do you think you’ll know?

  Me: I don’t know, Mom. I’m still trying to finish up some patient calls before I leave for the night.

  Jazzercise Janet: So…should I assume it’s a good possibility that you will be staying at Will’s tonight?

  Call me crazy, but it seemed a lot like Janet wanted me out of the apartment for the evening…

  Me: Do you want me to stay at Will’s tonight?

  Jazzercise Janet: Would it make me a bad mother if I said yes?

  Yep. She definitely wanted me gone for the night, and I sure as fuck did not want to know why. Traumatic past experiences taught me that it most likely involved my father without pants.

  Me: Considering I’m twenty-nine years old, I don’t think so.

  Jazzercise Janet: Okay, good. Could you stay at Will’s tonight, sweetie? I’d really like some alone time with your father.

  Me: Sure, Mom. I’ll stay at Will’s.

  Jazzercise Janet: Yay! Your father brought home this *very sexy* movie, and he’s going to be so excited we can watch it.

  Ew. Gross. Sometimes it was truly a hardship having a mom who was so open and willing to tell you everything.

  Me: Jesus, Mom. Let’s just end this conversation before it steers to places I don’t want to know anything about.

  Jazzercise Janet: Pornography is a very healthy, sexual expression and outlet, Melody. It isn’t anything to be ashamed about.

  Me: OMG. Goodbye, Mom.

  Note to self: Move out of Bill and Janet’s ASAP.

  Even though I stayed at Will’s a lot, I really needed to get my own place. If anything, it was a backup plan. A safe house. A place far, far away from walking in on Bill and Janet enjoying very sexy movie time. That was for sure one sight I did not want to witness.

  Note to self: Schedule apartment showings ASAP.

  I glanced at the time on my phone and saw that it was already half past six
. The office was a complete ghost town, and I still had one more patient call I wanted to make before I left for the night.

  Shit. I had to get moving if I wanted to be out of here before seven.

  I pulled up Bethany Hyland’s contact information and tapped the call button.

  “Melody,” she greeted with a smile in her voice. “I had a feeling you’d be checking up on me today.”

  The happiness in her tone had me grinning ear to ear. “How did your appointment with the specialist go?”

  “It went really, really well,” she answered, and I immediately breathed out a sigh of relief.

  Bethany was twenty-six weeks into her pregnancy, and at her last ultrasound, we’d found a concerning spot on her baby’s heart. We had to refer her to a Maternal-Fetal Medicine Specialist for further testing, but unfortunately for Bethany, her insurance was barely covering the additional expenses an evaluation like that would cost. And in her case, it was either go to the specialist or use the money to put food on the table for her family. Times had been hard for her family after her husband lost his job.

  But after numerous phone calls and a lot of persistence, I’d managed to convince Dr. Wilton, a physician Will worked closely with on difficult cases that required extensive monitoring of the baby throughout pregnancy, to take on her case pro bono.

  “What did Dr. Wilton say?” I asked, too curious to wait for the final report to come in from their office.

  “She said that she has no current concerns and she doesn’t think we have anything to worry about, but she wanted to follow me for the rest of my pregnancy,” she explained. “Dr. Wilton was so kind, Melody. I’m so thankful you were able to find her for us. Sometimes, I wonder if you’re an actual angel. I’m not sure you’ll ever know how grateful I am for what you’ve done for me and my baby.”

  My heart grew inside my chest, and tears pricked my eyes at her kind words.

  “I do know, Bethany,” I said through the emotion clogging my throat. “And I’m so very happy your appointment with Dr. Wilton went so well today.”

  “Me too.”

  “Well, I’m going to head out of the office for the night, but I’ll see you next week at your appointment with Dr. Cummings.”

  “Thanks again, Melody,” she said.

  “You’re very welcome. Have a good night, okay?”

  “You too.”

  I ended the call and with a thankful, happy smile etched across my lips. I closed up shop for the night, shutting down my computer and heading out of the nurses’ office. As I pulled my purse out of my locker in the break room, a white envelope sticking straight out of the middle pocket stared back at me.

  Fingers crossed this is my bonus for enduring the Goddess Cup of hell… I thought to myself as I dragged it out of my purse and slid my index finger underneath the seal. A folded white piece of paper with a key taped to the front sat inside.

  My mouth crested into a huge goofy smile once I’d scanned the note scribbled inside. Immediately, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent Will a quick text.

  Me: The weirdest thing happened to me today.

  He responded a minute a later.

  Will: What?

  Me: While I was at work, some stranger put a note in my purse with a key to his apartment.

  Will: No shit. What did the note say?

  Me: “Dearest Mel, Meet me in my bed, naked, at 9:00 p.m. tonight.”

  Will: He sounds brilliant.

  Me: I wish I could figure out who it was. I mean, he signed it, but his handwriting is complete shit. It might as well be a doctor’s sig on a patient prescription…

  Will: Lol. My girl’s got jokes. I love it.

  His girl. Will’s girl. I felt like a complete sap for loving that so much.

  Me: So, is dinner involved tonight, or are we just doing the sex?

  Will: I’ll pick up some takeout on my way home. I’ve got a board meeting at 7:30, but it shouldn’t run too late.

  Me: I’ll only agree if the takeout is pancakes. Ohh! Make it chocolate chip pancakes!

  Will: Pancakes? For dinner?

  Why was that even a question? Breakfast for dinner was the greatest invention ever.

  Me: Umm…YES.

  Will: That’s kind of weird.

  Me: Get with the program, Will. It’s the best dinner ever.

  Will: Fine. I’ll bring the pancakes. You bring that perfect little cunt.

  His words sent a shiver up my spine. God, I loved it when he talked dirty.

  Me: Deal.

  Will: And Mel?

  Me: Yeah?

  Will: She better be bared and spread out on my bed when I get home.

  Me: Or what?

  Will: Tongue-lashings.

  Me: That’s not a punishment.

  Will: I never said they’d lead to orgasm…

  Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Hold the phone. I wanted orgasms. I wanted lots and lots of Will-induced orgasms.

  Me: Naked on the bed. Got it.

  Will: See you tonight.

  Since I had no desire to risk seeing Bill and Janet having “very sexy movie time,” I hadn’t worried about grabbing a change of clothes from their apartment and headed straight to Will’s place after leaving work. Which explained my current situation—stretched out on Will’s leather sofa, clad in only his T-shirt and my panties, while watching television and simultaneously scrolling through Facebook.

  I wasn’t really one to post a lot of things on social media, but I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t enjoy reading everyone else’s shit.

  As I swiped my finger across the screen of my phone, flying past boring statuses about people’s dinner choices and wedding countdowns and blah, blah, blah, one post in particular had me pausing at lightning-quick speed.

  Patty Lister:

  OMG. Who’s watching The Doctor Is In right now??? Are you seeing this??? Is Dr. OBscene going to sleep with Emily???

  I hadn’t watched an episode since that night at Kline and Georgia’s house, but for some insane reason, before I could stop myself, I had the remote in my hand, and I was typing in the channel that Will’s docuseries was on. Instantly, his handsome face was on the screen. He appeared quite fucking cozy with a petite, blond nurse in a small alcove off to the side of the hospital hallway. His arm rested against the wall while he smirked down at her.

  Jesus Christ, this kind of shit is still almost too painful to watch.

  But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t turn off the television. I couldn’t fucking look away.

  She whispered something into his ear, and he stared down at her with a heated look in his eyes.

  Oh God. Please don’t let this get any worse. I wasn’t sure if my heart could take any more.

  But, unfortunately for me, it did get worse. The camera flashed to shots of Will taking the nurse by the hand and leading her toward the doctors’ on-call room. He ushered her through the door with a flirtatious tap to her ass, and she giggled as it clicked shut behind them.

  By the time a commercial with a dancing goat took over the screen, I wanted to throw up.

  I need to stop watching this. Stop. Watching. Mel.

  I probably should’ve listened to my brain’s wise words of advice. Actually, I really should’ve have listened. But I didn’t.

  I wasn’t sure whether I was a moron or a masochist.

  Mindlessly, I stayed glued to the couch, and my eyes stayed locked on the television. Four commercials later, I was face-to-screen with shots of the closed call room door while the microphone caught the whispers and giggles and fucking moans of the two people inside.

  My stomach dropped to my feet like an elevator without cables. I was listening to Will and a nurse named Emily have sex.

  I’m literally listening to my boyfriend having sex with someone else right now.

  Oh. My. God.

  Honestly, I barely knew Emily. I’d only spoken with her a time or two while I was assisting Will with deliveries on the floor. But I knew Will. Hell, I knew him so wel
l that I would’ve known those moans were his moans even if I hadn’t had the awful opportunity of watching him walk into the call room with his work fuck buddy.

  This hurts like a motherfucker.

  That was an understatement. This was worse than the Goddess Cup opening up before I got it settled. This wasn’t physical pain, this was soul-deep, heart-crushing, emotional kind of pain.

  How in the fuck had I found myself watching this?

  Time and time again, he’d basically told me the show had made things out to be worse than they were. He’d admitted to flirting with a few of the nurses during filming, but he’d never expanded on the fact that it was possible they’d caught more than just flirting—aka fucking—on camera.

  Even after I’d told him that the show and the parade of flirtatious patients had started to make me uncomfortable, he had never opened up and told me everything, or at least told me that it was probably for the best if I didn’t watch any more episodes. He’d had more than enough opportunities to be open and honest with me about how things were during the filming of the show—how he’d been before we’d started dating.

  I mean, I wasn’t completely unrealistic. I understood that filming occurred prior to our relationship, but what I didn’t understand was how he’d completely missed the part where he filled me in on his sexual relationship with our hospital coworker so I didn’t look like a fucking fool.

  Or maybe I was a fool for being so upset by it. I honestly couldn’t tell.