Chapter Nineteen
Cedar
It was lunchtime, and the hospital cafeteria was already bustling with chatter and clattering trays. The hum of conversations grew louder as more staff trickled in.
Beyond the main doors, I could hear a few raised voices—likely doctors exchanging medical opinions in less-than-hushed tones—while the steady shuffling of feet cut across the tiled floor.
My two usual companions, Dr. Lee and Nurse Katie, joined me at our customary corner table. Dr. Lee had already been waiting by the time I arrived. Nurse Katie, running behind schedule, headed straight for the counter.
She returned moments later, balancing two plastic trays. One was piled with fluffy pancakes drizzled in maple syrup, while the other held a smaller serving of potatoes and a side of guacamole. She also carried my energy drink, exactly as I’d requested earlier, or at least thought I wanted.
But as the enticing aroma of food swirled around me, my stomach lurched in protest. What should have smelled comforting and warm only churned my insides.
The sudden wave of nausea was overwhelming. Immediately, I pressed a hand over my twitching nostrils, trying to block out the scent that now felt almost toxic.
“Please, take this away,” I begged, looking at Nurse Katie. My tone was low but urgent. “It smells awful.”
Nurse Katie exchanged a quick glance with Dr. Lee before turning back to me. Concern etched her features. “I noticed you seemed off today,” Dr. Lee murmured, leaning forward. “I assumed it was just stress from work, but this seems different.”
Nurse Katie nodded, her brows knitting together. “Your lunch is just the way you usually like it, Cedar.” She bent down to sniff the tray again, as if to confirm nothing was off. She straightened, perplexed. “It smells completely normal to me.”
“Please,” I insisted, my voice cracking slightly. “Put it away. I can’t handle it right now.”
Instead of taking it from the table, Nurse Katie studied me. She looked like she was running through a mental checklist, searching for clues that something else might be wrong. The tray remained closer to her than to me—thank goodness.
“You skipped breakfast,” she noted softly, “and now you’re skipping lunch. Is this some crash diet you’re trying, or… are you feeling sick?”
I let out a weary sigh. Katie had walked in on me that morning while I was tossing my untouched breakfast into the trash. I’d claimed I had no appetite—and that was true—but there was more to it than mere disinterest in food.
“I’m not okay, Katie,” I confessed, my shoulders sagging. “I’ve been feeling nauseous for days. My appetite is shot. And when I do try to eat, I get this bitter taste in my mouth.”
Nurse Katie moved closer, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead and neck in quick succession, checking for fever. My temperature must have felt normal because she withdrew, frowning.
“Are you sure you’re not running a fever or have some bug?” she asked.
I forced a weak smile. “I should know—I am a doctor, after all. Trust me, it’s not a fever.”
Dr. Lee and Nurse Katie exchanged another concerned glance. I could almost see the unspoken questions passing between them.
“I started noticing the symptoms recently,” I explained, “and I was planning to run some tests—”
I didn’t get the chance to finish. A sudden cramp twisted through my stomach, and I instinctively clutched my midsection. The pain made me gasp, my body threatening to double over.
“Are you okay?” Katie asked urgently, abandoning her own meal to focus on me.
I tried to nod, but a faint dizziness swept over me. Nurse Katie reached for my shoulder, steadying me as I nearly lost my balance. For a fleeting second, I thought I might pass out.
All around us, a hush fell over the nearby tables. A few curious onlookers paused to stare. I could feel their eyes on me—sympathetic, puzzled, maybe even a little alarmed—but I was too overwhelmed by the pain to care.
“Help me to the bathroom,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Katie hooked her arm around my waist. I stood up too quickly, and another wave of dizziness slammed into me. My knees nearly buckled, but Katie kept me upright.
A sour taste rose in my throat, and I realized with a grim certainty that if I tried to speak, I’d probably vomit. Nurse Katie must have recognized my panicked look because she quickly steered me away from the cafeteria.
As we maneuvered through the tables, I heard her snap at a gawking intern named Ruben. “What are you staring at, Ruben? Don’t you have labs to screw up somewhere?” Her outburst redirected the onlookers’ attention, giving us a merciful moment of privacy.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind us, and the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Katie tried to help me to a stall, but I barely made it before collapsing to my knees over the toilet. My stomach heaved, and I retched violently. It was as if my body was determined to empty itself entirely.
“Katie,” I croaked, my throat raw.
She knelt beside me, rubbing slow circles on my back. The warmth of her hand was a small comfort in the midst of my misery.
“You have to take some water,” she urged, twisting open a water bottle. “Just a sip. You can’t keep going like this.”
I shook my head weakly. “I’ll just… throw it up again.”
“Cedar, please. At least rinse your mouth,” she insisted gently. She pressed the bottle into my hand.
My fingers trembled as I took it, managing a small swish of water. The taste of bile was replaced with a cool relief, but the sting in my throat still lingered.
“I have to get to my office and run some tests,” I said, my voice shaky.
Katie narrowed her eyes, as though a sudden idea had taken shape in her mind. “Could it be… are you… pregnant?” she asked softly.
My hand immediately found my abdomen. Her question was like a jolt—both terrifying and thrilling. I’d suspected it myself. The nausea, dizziness, and utter aversion to food were textbook signs.
I’d ordered a pregnancy test kit and planned to confirm my suspicion one way or the other before proceeding with more extensive labs.
I stood carefully, leaning on Katie for support. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I want to do the test first.”
Katie couldn’t hide her excitement. “Oh, my God, Cedar. You’re having a baby! This is huge!”
Heat flamed my cheeks, and I turned away, half-embarrassed by her enthusiasm. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s not confirmed.”
But she just giggled. “If I were you, I’d be on the phone right now, telling Flynn he’s going to be a father.”
My stomach fluttered at the thought of sharing such life-altering news with my husband. We’d come a long way from faking an engagement to falling truly in love and building a genuine marriage. The idea of adding a child to that mix was equal parts exhilarating and daunting.
I washed my face and rinsed my mouth again, feeling somewhat steadier. “Just don’t blab to anyone,” I said over my shoulder. “If I am pregnant, I want to be the one to break the news.”
Katie nodded, though the sparkle in her eyes told me she was already imagining baby showers and tiny clothes. “Fine, fine,” she teased. “But hurry up and find out!”
I offered a final, grateful smile, then slipped back into the hallway. Lunchtime was winding down, and the cafeteria was emptying, but Dr. Lee was still at our table. She looked up from her phone and gave me a concerned once-over as I approached.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, standing.
“Better,” I lied, though it was partly true now that I’d vomited. I spotted a wrapped package on the table. “What’s that?”
“I had them box up your lunch. In case you feel like eating later,” Dr. Lee said softly.
I mustered a thankful nod. “Thanks, Dr. Lee. I appreciate it. I’ll see you around.”
She waved me off, and I hurried down the corridor to my office. Once I stepped inside and closed the door, my pulse hammered in my ears. This test could change everything.
On one of the shelves, I spotted the compact box containing the home pregnancy test I’d requested. My breath caught as I picked it up. I’d conducted countless tests for patients, guiding them through this same anxious wait—but now, the stakes felt so personal and high.
At the small sink in my office, I washed and dried my hands, trying to steady my nerves. Then I unwrapped the test stick and headed into the adjacent private bathroom, my heart pounding.
After following the instructions, I capped the test and laid it carefully on my desk. Three minutes. That was all I had to wait, yet those three minutes stretched on like an eternity.
My mind flooded with what-ifs—what if I was pregnant? What if I wasn’t? Would this be a blessing, or was the timing all wrong?
When my phone’s timer finally went off, I took a deep breath and picked up the test. Two pink lines blinked back at me. My heart soared and sank all at once, a rush of pure adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I was pregnant.
My free hand drifted to my belly, and a swell of protective affection and nervous excitement rose within me. I could almost feel the future shifting into place—nurseries, late-night feedings, Flynn’s joyful reaction, my parents’ proud smiles…
I pressed a hand over my mouth, fighting back tears of overwhelming emotion. I needed to tell Flynn. Now. Grabbing my phone, I thumbed through my contacts and hit “Call.”
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, babe. What’s up?”
His voice, so calm and steady, was exactly what I needed. “Honey,” I managed, my voice trembling with happiness. “Are you back from your meeting?”
“Just got in. Why?” he asked, sounding slightly concerned.
“Could you come home early today? I have something important to tell you.”
He let out a wary laugh. “You’re scaring me. Are you okay?”
I bit my lip, trying to contain the excitement. “I’m fine, really. Just… please don’t make me wait too long. I need to see you.”
“All right,” he agreed softly. “Should I pick anything up on my way?”
“No, nothing,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. “You’re all I need. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said before we disconnected.
The rest of the workday passed in a blur as I tried to focus on my patients. A new kind of energy buzzed inside me, despite the waves of nausea.
By three o’clock, I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed my bag and hustled to the parking lot, determined to get home before I burst from anticipation.
The early afternoon sun cast long shadows across the asphalt. I spotted my car parked near the exit, and as I drew closer, I noticed a figure leaning against the driver’s-side door.
He wore a delivery uniform—a helmet covered his face, and he clutched a large envelope. My pulse quickened with sudden unease.
“Excuse me,” I said firmly, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.
The man turned slowly. “Dr. Cedar Jefferson?” he asked in a gravelly tone.
I hesitated. “Yes,” I said, aware that my hospital badge displayed my name. “Can I help you?”
His shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “I have a package for you. I just need you to sign.”
He produced a clipboard, flipping it open. But instead of the usual signature lines or invoice, I saw a single message scrawled across an otherwise blank page: DO NOT MAKE A SOUND OR YOU’RE DEAD.
Fear slammed into me, and I froze. My eyes flicked to the man’s gloved hand just as he pressed a cold, metallic object into my side. A gun.
“What do you want?” I whispered, my throat tight.
His voice turned menacing. “Walk calmly to that black van,” he said, nodding toward a vehicle parked a few spaces over. “If you make one wrong move, your husband will be burying you. Understand?”
Every instinct screamed at me to run, to scream for help—but I couldn’t risk it. I’d just confirmed I was pregnant. I thought of the new life inside me, and terror seized my heart. Numbly, I nodded, my body shaking.
I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone bone-dry. Carefully, I lowered the pen and turned away from him, moving in the direction of the van, its doors ominously open. My mind whirled with possible ways out, but all I could think of was Flynn, the baby—our life together that might vanish in an instant if I made the wrong move.