Pia’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thanks, you’re the best. And for the record, I won’t be sticking crystals anywhere they’re not supposed to go.”
They laughed and headed down the corridor to Kate’s office, Samira’s legs feeling decidedly wonky.
“Take it easy, okay?” Pia pecked her on the cheek and Samira nodded.
“Go. Organize your bookings for when you’re away, and get ready to do handover to me for all the managerial stuff.”
“Thanks, you’re the best,” Pia said as she strode away on those impossibly high heels she wore even at work.
Samira didn’t feel the best as she entered Kate’s office, and the first thing the doctor handed her was a pregnancy test.
“Before we draw blood, I’d like you to do this.”
Samira’s loud guffaw earned a raised eyebrow from the unflappable doc.
“I can’t be pregnant. I have oligomenorrhea.”
Not to mention the more salient fact of an infrequent sex life.
Apart from those memorable interludes with Rory, but they’d used a condom.
That had broken the last time they’d been together.
Laughter bubbled up again, and this time Kate frowned.
In what alternate universe could a woman who had three periods a year, if that, have sex, the condom breaks, and that actually results in a pregnancy?
No way, no how.
“When was your last period?” Kate brandished the pregnancy test in her direction, and Samira took it.
“I can’t remember.” She screwed up her eyes, trying to think. “I don’t mark them on a calendar anymore because they’re too infrequent . . . Before I arrived in Melbourne . . . Maybe ten weeks ago?”
“And have you had unprotected sex?”
“No.” Samira bristled at the insinuation she’d be so careless and resisted the urge to squirm under Kate’s probing stare. “Though I have had sex during that time and the condom broke once, though it was only two weeks ago.”
“That could do it.” Kate’s stern expression eased, and her mouth twitched with amusement. “And the more sensitive tests we perform can actually confirm a pregnancy eight days after conception, so why don’t you tell me about these hormone swings and the resultant symptoms.”
Reeling from the implications and signs that could indeed add up to a pregnancy, Samira said, “Nausea, mainly. I puked once almost four weeks ago, but I get that occasionally due to hormone imbalance, and that was before the condom broke. Wooziness mostly, and feeling blah, but at random times with no real pattern.”
Kate picked up a pen and started jotting notes in a file. “Are your breasts tender?”
“No.”
“Any spotting?”
“No.”
“Any other odd symptoms?”
Samira shook her head, increasingly relieved. She couldn’t be pregnant. It would be too incongruous. “Nothing at all. I’m usually pretty healthy apart from the hormone stuff, so this has to be a virus, right?”
Kate’s benign smile did little to reassure her. “Please take the test, then we can talk more.”
“Okay.” She refrained from adding, But this is the biggest waste of time ever.
Her heart tripped with nerves as she entered the small bathroom next to Kate’s office and locked the door. She stared at the rectangular box for a few long moments before tearing it open, unwrapping the foil, and grabbing the white plastic stick.
The instructions on the box were simple enough. Pee on the stick. Wait two minutes. Check the window.
However, as she stared at that little window one hundred and twenty significant seconds later, she knew there was nothing simple about this.
Numbness flooded her, quickly followed by shock, fear, and elation.
Two blue lines.
At thirty-seven, without a regular period, a regular man, or regular sex, she’d fallen pregnant.
Twenty-Six
Rory tried calling Samira, but her phone rang out, so he left a message. He didn’t want to head home and sit by the phone waiting for a call from Chris like some sad sack, so on impulse he drove toward South Wharf.
He could thank Pia in person and give her a rundown of how the audition went. Crazy, because she probably had patients booked and he could convey his gratitude just as easily on the phone. But he really wanted to see Samira, and even if he had to loiter in the waiting room, he’d do it.
He reached the center in ten minutes and had parked when the phone rang. His heart leaped in anticipation, and he didn’t know who he wanted to be on the other end more, Chris or Samira.
One glance at the screen had his hand shaking as he hit the “answer” button.
“Chris. How are you?”
“I’m bloody fantastic, considering I get a cut of your earnings as the host for Renegades.”
Shock rendered him speechless for a moment. “I got the gig?”
“You sure did, mate. You blew them away at the audition, and they’re rapt to have you on board.”
“Fuck,” he murmured, joy expanding in his chest until he could barely breathe. “I can’t believe it.”
Chris chuckled. “I knew you could do it. Anyway, go celebrate, and I’ll be in touch once I have more information.”
“Thanks, Chris, for everything.”
“You’re the one who did this, mate. I just made a few calls to set everything up. Well done.”
When Chris hung up, Rory stared at the phone in his hand, wondering if he’d conjured up the call out of wishful thinking.
He got the job.
He could give Amelia the money she needed to kick-start the speech therapy program.
He could help those kids.
He felt freaking invincible.
Chris had been right about one thing. He had to celebrate. He hoped he could convince Samira to skive off work, because they had some serious partying to do, one-on-one.
He had no recollection of the five-minute walk to the center— because he’d probably floated there—and as he entered, he strode toward Samira’s office, relieved to spot her door open and the woman he wanted to see tidying exercise equipment.
“Samira,” he called out, unable to keep the grin off his face as he entered her office.
She looked a little pale, but he saw the exact moment she figured out why he was grinning like an idiot who’d just won the lottery.