“Home,” I whisper my one-word answer to him. I’m going back to the condo, with a baby growing inside me, and no way to tell the father.
“Now?” he asks, surprise laces his tone and facial features. That’s an unusual reaction for Tucker, the normally calm, cool, and collected former military man.
I nod and hold out my hand for the bag. Tucker steps outside the door and closes it behind him so I can get dressed. Dana has impeccable taste in clothes and has sent the best possible pajama set for the hospital. The fabric blend of the light green set makes it flow freely against my skin. The nurse walks in just in time to remove my IV catheter and help me put my shirt on. She reviews the discharge information while Tucker is still in the hall, so I don’t have to worry about him hearing anything about making an OB/GYN appointment.
“Who will be responsible for driving you home today?” the nurse asks a standard protocol question. It should be easy to answer and is for most everyone else. When I don’t attempt to answer, she looks up at me and I shrug my shoulders. She quickly walks to the door and calls Tucker back inside. “Will you be taking Miss Vasco home today?” she asks him pointedly.
“Yes,” he responds and looks up at me for verification. Smiling at him in appreciation, I nod at him and move to stand up. Dana has also included matching house shoes with my clothes and the nurse helps steady me as I slide my feet in one at a time.
“Have a seat while I get the wheelchair, Miss Vasco,” she instructs. Turning to Tucker, she says, “Pull your vehicle up to the front door, under the awning. We’ll meet you there in a jiffy.”
Tucker obviously doesn’t want to leave me unattended even for a minute. He looks conflicted for a moment but he finally relents when I motion with my hands to shoo him away. “I’m okay,” I whisper to him.
He stands in the doorway until he sees the nurse returning with the wheelchair. “Here she comes. I don’t like leaving you, Sophia. But, it’s either here in your room or outside the hospital. I’d rather it be here if it has to be at all. Don’t leave without the nurse,” he levels me with his gaze.
“Okay,” I respond. After he leaves, I realize that my hand had instinctively covered my stomach while he was talking. His concern for my safety was evident in his voice and actions. My innate concern for my baby resulted in my unconscious effort to protect him.
It was never my intention to become pregnant. When I tell Dom, he’ll automatically think I’ve tried to trap him. He will doubt that it’s his baby. Knowing these things is one thing. When it actually happens, when he actually accuses me of it and turns me and our baby away, will be another thing. That will be the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. That will be my twenty on a scale of one to ten.
Holy shit. I’m pregnant!
Chapter Four
“That looks like him now,” the nurse says as Tucker pulls up to the front door of the hospital where we are already waiting for him.
I chanced a glance in the mirror before we left my room to smooth my bed hair down. The angry purple, black, and red bruises and swelling startled me. Knowing it must have been bad simply by the way Tucker reacted to seeing me, I tried to prepare myself. When I actually saw it for myself, it made me feel sick. I ran quickly my fingers through my hair and pulled it around my face to hide as much as possible.
Thankfully, it’s a slow time of day, so there aren’t many people coming and going at the moment. Tucker jumps out and jogs around to open my door for me. “All set?” he asks and I all I can do is nod in reply.
Even after everything that’s happened, he’s still the consummate professional. I would never know he despised me if I didn’t know how loyal he is to Dominic. He helps me into the cab of the truck and I gingerly put my seatbelt on.
When Tucker takes his place in the driver’s seat, I croak out, “Car?”
“I had your car picked up and taken back to your condo. It’s fine and there whenever you’re ready for it,” Tucker replies in pure business mode.
“Thanks,” I whisper and Tucker gives me a single nod response. He’s not accustomed to being thanked for doing his job, but I feel like he’s gone above and beyond the call of duty in the last couple of days.
As he drives, thoughts of Dominic flood my mind. My only link to him is sitting next to me and I can’t speak. Literally – I have no voice to ask about Dominic. Where is he? Is he doing okay? Does he miss me? Will he ever hear me out and let me explain everything? I know I deceived him and that was one of his hard limits. Hard limits are established so that they are never breached. Trust is absolutely non-negotiable in this relationship, but he taught me that trust has to be shared between us. It was never meant to be a one-way street.
I have to know if forgiveness is also part of this relationship.
I can’t take it any longer and the need for answers completely overcomes me. “Dominic?” My eyes plead with Tucker when his head jerks in my direction. His eyes leave the road for a second as he scrutinizes me. I tilt my head to the side and reach to touch his arm. My hope is the contact will remind him of the times that I wasn’t the enemy.
“He’s still out of town. He doesn’t know about this, Sophia,” Tucker tries to give an ambiguous answer, but it’s crystal clear to me.
Dominic doesn’t know because Tucker was only told to follow me, check my whereabouts, and determine if there was anything he could use against me. Dominic doesn’t want to know anything personal about me. He only wants to know of anything that could possibly help him with this lawsuit. The fact that my former Sir just beat the shit out of me wouldn’t have any direct bearing, except to add fuel to the fire of not trusting me.
Leaning my head back on the headrest, I release a deep sigh, hoping it conveys everything that I can’t say–even if I wanted to. But, I won’t put Tucker on the spot or make him feel like he’s in the middle in any way. Not that there’s any contest as far as loyalties go, but I think he feels a sense of responsibility for me in my current state.
“How long will you be out of work?” Tucker asks, back to strictly business. He glances over at me and I hold up two fingers.
“Two weeks?” he asks to clarify and I nod my head. “Okay, Dana has delivered your laptop to your condo along with all the files on your desk. If you need anything else from the office, just email her and she can send the courier to deliver it to you. You obviously won’t be able to take any calls, so Dana will distribute a statement to let people know your only mode of contact will be email. When you feel up to it, you’ll be able to work from your condo.”
For anyone else, working from home would be a dream come true. For me, it feels like an unfortunate set of circumstances that’ll prevent me from seeing Dominic even longer. Catching Tucker’s eye, I incline my head toward him, silently conveying my gratitude for everything. I can only hope the he understands as he watches me intently.
“Sophia,” he says, his voice pained. “I don’t -,” and he stops speaking. He’s frustrated and I instantly know he wants an explanation for everything that has come to light in the last few weeks. “I don’t understand what happened. Or, I guess I should say why it happened.”
He ponders his statement for a few seconds before amending it again. “No, I don’t understand what or why, to be honest with you,” he sounds more pissed off now. “Why would you do this to Dominic? He was good to you. He took care of you. He loved you, Sophia.”
Hearing that word used in past tense shreds me inside.
He sighs loudly, “I thought you loved him, too. You fooled all of us.”
I vehemently shake my head from side to side. “No!” I try to yell but my voice doesn’t cooperate and I immediately grab my throat in pain. But, it’s not that pain that I care about at the moment. “I love him!” I try to tell him.
“Don’t talk anymore. I shouldn’t have said anything, especially knowing you’re not supposed to talk. It just really bothers me.”
Grabbing his arm, I squeeze it until he looks at me. I mouth the words
to him again, “I love him!”
Tucker turns into the front drive of the condo and puts the truck in park. He sits silent for a minute as he considers the phrasing of the bomb he’s about to drop on me. “If you loved him, you wouldn’t have used him like that, Sophia. You wouldn’t have kept another man hidden just so you could file a sexual harassment lawsuit against him and demand a lot of money to keep it out of court and the media.”
My eyebrows draw inward and my mouth drops open. “What?” I strain to speak, my vocal chords growing increasingly more sensitive by the second. “No!” I don’t want his money, or to hurt him, or to take him to court. I don’t understand what all is happening. All I know is that Harrison is behind it, pulling the strings, and orchestrating the whole charade from behind the scenes.
“Let’s get you inside so you can rest. You’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. Maybe you should reconsider your relationship with Harrison Dictman,” Tucker says with barely masked condescension in his tone.
I want to scream, deny every allegation, and explain what started this whole mess, but no one is listening. No one can hear me over all the noise this situation has created. Tucker exits the truck and comes around to help me out. He grabs what few possessions I have with me and escorts me up to the condo.
Once inside my unit, he says, “I think it would be best if we just say you have some personal medical issues to attend to, if anyone persists in asking for you. Otherwise, when you feel able, you can do everything through email.”
I nod in agreement. What else can I do anyway? After Tucker leaves, I pull out my hospital discharge papers and consult the over the counter pain medications I can safely take during pregnancy. The nurse also wrote that gargling with warm salt water might help soothe my throat, so that is my first order of business. Not being able to talk is the fucking pits.
After sleeping with a frozen gel pack over my eyes all night, the swelling is considerably better this morning. The bruising is still just as ugly, but there’s nothing I can do but let time and vitamin C heal it. Since I can’t talk enough to call anyone, I decide to drive to my doctor’s office to make an appointment.
Arriving just as the doors are unlocked, I approach the receptionist’s desk. Her smile quickly fades as she takes in my injuries. I give her a rueful smile and, after the best round of charades ever played, I have successfully conveyed my situation and what I need. A few clicks on her computer and a few seconds later, her smile spreads across her face.
“We had a cancellation call late yesterday afternoon and that spot hasn’t been filled. I can get you in with Dr. Tabitha Perry right now. Do you feel up to doing it now?”
Nodding eagerly, I can’t hide my excitement. I’m so ready to be checked out and hope to get some reassurance that the baby wasn’t injured. Before bed last night, I wrote out several questions for the doctor to answer for me. In hindsight, I probably should’ve done the same for the poor receptionist, too. She hands me a stack full of paperwork to complete and I take my seat in the waiting room. Taking a blank sheet of paper with me, I jot down the pertinent details of my injuries since I know I’ll be asked about them more than once.
As I’m filling in the blanks in the patient chart paperwork, a thought pops into my head from nowhere and I have a moment of panic. Is Tucker still following me? Does he know I’m here? Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, it occurs to me that there’s no doubt he is patiently waiting outside. Just because I’m in my OB/GYN’s office doesn’t automatically mean he would know I’m pregnant.
Still, I’m sure he is uber-diligent and thorough with his research of me now that I’ve betrayed Dominic. These thoughts continue to haunt me as I finish all the paperwork and turn it in to Shelly, the receptionist. I’m lost in my own thoughts of how Tucker feels betrayed by me, but he also must think he let Dominic down. That somehow he didn’t do his job and protect Dominic from me. When all this started, I never considered all the implications of my actions. My tunnel vision blinded me, keeping me from seeing the truth, and I made the worst decision of my life.
“Sophia Vasco,” the nurse calls from the doorway.
Standing, I walk toward her and, as expected, she looks at me with dire concern. “What happened to you?” she exclaims, her voice thick with concern.
Handing her the detailed note I wrote, her eyes quickly scan the details and her head occasionally nods as she takes the information in. When she finishes reading, she looks up and smiles at me.
“No talking, huh?”
Pursing my lips to show my frustration with it, I shake my head from side to side in response.
“I had laryngitis once that lasted for a month! I know a little of how frustrating it is to not be able to speak,” she sympathizes. “No worries. We’ll take good care of you.”
I’m escorted to the lab area to have blood drawn and the lab technician hands me a cup and shows me to the bathroom. Once I’m in the patient room, the nurse regurgitates everything for the doctor. After enduring the usual pelvic examination, and a lot of note taking by Dr. Perry, she helps me to sit up on the exam table. Reaching over to pull my list of questions out of my purse, I hand her the paper as she sits in her chair beside me.
“What have we here?” she says warmly. After silently reading through the questions, she smiles at me when she says, “You’re very thorough.”
Returning her smile, I nod and shrug my shoulders. I mouth the words, “It’s my job to be.”
“Your first question is if the assault could have hurt the baby. Did he hit or kick you in the abdomen at any time?”
I shake my head ‘no.’
“All of your injuries were sustained on your face and head?”
I nod ‘yes.’
“Then, it is highly unlikely that your baby would be affected. It’s smaller than a pea right now, enclosed in an embryonic sac that is filled with fluid. The sac is inside your uterus, which is protected by layers of fat, muscle, and skin.
“We can do a transvaginal ultrasound to look, if that would make you feel better. But, I have to warn you that at this early stage it is very likely we would only see the sac. Ultrasounds are typically performed with an overly full bladder to give us a better picture of the internal contents,” she explains. “If you want an ultrasound, I just want you to know that the lack of seeing a baby or a heartbeat does not mean there’s anything wrong. Understand?”
“Yes,” I mouth.
“Do you want to have an ultrasound today?”
“Yes,” I mouth and nod to make sure she understands.
Picking up the phone, she dials an extension and orders the ultrasound technician to prepare the ultrasound room for me. Sighing, I’m both relieved and anxious. Keeping her warning in mind isn’t as easy as it sounds. If there is no baby, and no heartbeat, I’ll worry constantly.
“For your next question regarding medications to help the swelling and bruising heal faster, we recommend avoiding any over the counter medications if at all possible. You can take ibuprofen occasionally, or acetaminophen more regularly, if needed. Never aspirin. But if you can do without them, I would recommend that. Are you in a lot of pain?”
Shaking my head ‘no,’ I point to my throat and shrug one shoulder.
“Your throat hurts the worst?” she asks to clarify and I nod. She suggests the salt-water solution to gargle and the throat lozenges with extra vitamin C.
“And, the last question is about your number of weeks gestation. We may not be able to get an accurate measurement until your next ultrasound. Your notes say you had the implant in your arm but it’s not found now?” she clarifies and I nod. She conducts much the same examination as Dr. Fallon did but comes up with the same results.
“With your light period roughly six weeks ago, followed by an apparent failure of your implanted birth control, it’s safe to say you are most likely between the six and eight week mark. Split it down the middle and say seven weeks,” she smiles. “Ready for that ultrasound now?”
A
m I?
Tentatively, I nod and Dr. Perry opens a door inside my examination room. It adjoins the ultrasound room, allowing me to avoid the busy hallway. Once I’m comfortably resting on the examination table, the ultrasound technician explains each step of the procedure to me. She’s so nice and didn’t even flinch when she saw me. My suspicion is that the others have already filled her in on my injuries.
“My name is Melissa. If you have any questions, just get my attention and I’ll be glad to answer them for you. Sound good?”
Taking a deep breath, I nod and she begins the ultrasound. My silent prayers become a chant inside my head. Please let my baby be okay.
“Look at this, would you?” she says excitedly and turns the monitor screen more toward me.
The 3D image is crystal clear – even I can read it. There’s a tiny baby inside me and his heart is clearly beating. My mouth drops open and tears spring to my eyes. Unconsciously, my hand reaches out to the screen to touch my baby. He appears to be healthy to me. Unable to tear my eyes from the screen, I whisper, “Okay?”
“Everything looks fine right now, Miss Vasco. You appear to be about eight weeks pregnant,” Melissa explains. Using the keyboard, she takes various measurements and explains a lot of medical jargon. The underlying message is that she doesn’t see any abnormalities, the baby has a good heartbeat, and I am approximately eight weeks pregnant. Melissa prints several pictures for my file and duplicates for me to take home.
My little miracle baby.
After I’m dressed, the doctor returns with a prescription for my prenatal vitamins and a bag full of various pregnancy-related items. This gift bag makes everything seem so much more official and real.
And scary.
After a stop at the pharmacy to get my prescription filled, my energy is zapped and I can’t wait to get back to the condo for a nap. I forgot to ask the doctor about morning sickness so I will just look it up online later today. The project planner in me wants to make lists and check off the items as I complete each task. It’s so ingrained in me now from the years of school, an internship, and on the job.
Her Dom's Lesson (Dominic Powers Book 2) Page 4