gut. “Come on, I’m taking you to my family’s doctor.”
“No.”
“Goddamnit, Bailey. Why the hell not?”
“I’m not pregnant, okay? I woke up cramping this morning, so I’m sure I’m about to start my period any time now. If it doesn’t start by Monday, I’ll go get checked out.”
Dread filled him and his heart pounded harder. “But if you are pregnant, you could be miscarrying. That’s one of the signs.”
Bailey paused, as if she hadn’t even thought of it as a possibility. “Okay, fine. Then I’ll go to the low-cost clinic around the corner.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can pay—”
“No! I don’t want you to pay for anything. I already told you, I’m not pregnant.”
He sighed. “Fine, but I’m driving.”
“No, I—”
“Damn it. Don’t fight me on this, Bailey. Just get into the damn truck.”
Surprising enough, she did as he asked without arguing. Thank God. But they sat in silence all the way over to the clinic. No doubt she was scared and probably didn’t want to be alone, but Nash had his own selfish reasons for driving her. He needed to know if this woman was carrying his unborn child or not, and apparently, he couldn’t trust her to be honest about it.
Not only that, but he was worried…for her. Even if she wasn’t pregnant with his child, the desire to make sure she was okay was unnervingly strong.
After registering at the front desk as a walk-in, they waited for a half hour before her name was finally called. She didn’t seem surprised when Nash stood and followed her back. A short, plump nurse wearing pink scrubs and a serious face showed them to a back room, stopping him from entering until after Bailey had changed into a gown. Once she allowed him entry, the nurse pointed to a chair in the corner and banished him to it.
The nurse checked Bailey’s vitals, noting that her blood pressure was a little high. “Probably stress-related,” she said, never looking up from her chart. It was as if she were speaking to herself rather than the patient.
Bailey tolerated the nurse’s abruptness, but Nash couldn’t help but grind his teeth across the room. He didn’t like it one bit. Or the nurse. The woman had the sourness of a pickle. But what did he really expect? Bailey was an uninsured patient with an unconfirmed pregnancy who was at a low-cost clinic because she couldn’t afford to pay for her care. At least that’s how the nurse probably looked at it.
But Nash could afford it. Not only did he have his own law practice, but he was a goddamn Sutherland. His family had made billions in the oil field after his grandparents, Bud and Celia Sutherland, struck it rich during the oil rush. Once they’d turned Sutherland Industries over to their five children—one of whom was Nash’s father—his grandparents retired to live out their days on White Willow Ranch just outside of Houston.
His family would be horrified if they learned he’d taken the possible mother of his child to a low-cost clinic when the Sutherlands had their own private doctors and team of specialists in nearby Houston.
“I had some minor cramping this morning. If I am pregnant, does that mean I’m losing the baby?” Bailey asked, unable to mask the worry in her tone.
Her fearful eyes met Nash’s from across the room, and his heart squeezed in his chest. She was as concerned as he was.
“The doctor will talk to you about that,” the gruff nurse responded as a man in dark blue scrubs entered the room.
“I’m Dr. Britton,” he said, not bothering to offer a comforting smile. “I don’t want to speculate at this point. Let me do a pelvic exam, get a blood test, and then we’ll see where we stand.” He pulled some purple latex gloves from a wall dispenser and snapped them on. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you while I take a quick look?”
The doctor was all business. Nash didn’t know which was worse—the nurse’s salty attitude or the doctor’s
“No.”
“Goddamnit, Bailey. Why the hell not?”
“I’m not pregnant, okay? I woke up cramping this morning, so I’m sure I’m about to start my period any time now. If it doesn’t start by Monday, I’ll go get checked out.”
Dread filled him and his heart pounded harder. “But if you are pregnant, you could be miscarrying. That’s one of the signs.”
Bailey paused, as if she hadn’t even thought of it as a possibility. “Okay, fine. Then I’ll go to the low-cost clinic around the corner.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can pay—”
“No! I don’t want you to pay for anything. I already told you, I’m not pregnant.”
He sighed. “Fine, but I’m driving.”
“No, I—”
“Damn it. Don’t fight me on this, Bailey. Just get into the damn truck.”
Surprising enough, she did as he asked without arguing. Thank God. But they sat in silence all the way over to the clinic. No doubt she was scared and probably didn’t want to be alone, but Nash had his own selfish reasons for driving her. He needed to know if this woman was carrying his unborn child or not, and apparently, he couldn’t trust her to be honest about it.
Not only that, but he was worried…for her. Even if she wasn’t pregnant with his child, the desire to make sure she was okay was unnervingly strong.
After registering at the front desk as a walk-in, they waited for a half hour before her name was finally called. She didn’t seem surprised when Nash stood and followed her back. A short, plump nurse wearing pink scrubs and a serious face showed them to a back room, stopping him from entering until after Bailey had changed into a gown. Once she allowed him entry, the nurse pointed to a chair in the corner and banished him to it.
The nurse checked Bailey’s vitals, noting that her blood pressure was a little high. “Probably stress-related,” she said, never looking up from her chart. It was as if she were speaking to herself rather than the patient.
Bailey tolerated the nurse’s abruptness, but Nash couldn’t help but grind his teeth across the room. He didn’t like it one bit. Or the nurse. The woman had the sourness of a pickle. But what did he really expect? Bailey was an uninsured patient with an unconfirmed pregnancy who was at a low-cost clinic because she couldn’t afford to pay for her care. At least that’s how the nurse probably looked at it.
But Nash could afford it. Not only did he have his own law practice, but he was a goddamn Sutherland. His family had made billions in the oil field after his grandparents, Bud and Celia Sutherland, struck it rich during the oil rush. Once they’d turned Sutherland Industries over to their five children—one of whom was Nash’s father—his grandparents retired to live out their days on White Willow Ranch just outside of Houston.
His family would be horrified if they learned he’d taken the possible mother of his child to a low-cost clinic when the Sutherlands had their own private doctors and team of specialists in nearby Houston.
“I had some minor cramping this morning. If I am pregnant, does that mean I’m losing the baby?” Bailey asked, unable to mask the worry in her tone.
Her fearful eyes met Nash’s from across the room, and his heart squeezed in his chest. She was as concerned as he was.
“The doctor will talk to you about that,” the gruff nurse responded as a man in dark blue scrubs entered the room.
“I’m Dr. Britton,” he said, not bothering to offer a comforting smile. “I don’t want to speculate at this point. Let me do a pelvic exam, get a blood test, and then we’ll see where we stand.” He pulled some purple latex gloves from a wall dispenser and snapped them on. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you while I take a quick look?”
The doctor was all business. Nash didn’t know which was worse—the nurse’s salty attitude or the doctor’s
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