Her eyes widen and an ugly snarl twists her face. “How could you even insinuate that this child isn’t Luke’s?”
I take a step closer to her. I’m maybe the least intimidating person in the world, but I refuse to be trampled by this bitch. “Because I don’t trust you. Until I have definitive proof that it’s his, I’m not participating in the games you’re playing.” And it’s not just that. If I hadn’t gone to the doctor’s appointment and saw the baby with my own eyes on that screen, I’m not entirely sure I’d even believe she’s pregnant.
She laughs like the thought is simply absurd. “Sure you’re not. If that were true, would I really be moving in today?”
I give her another sweet smile. “Really gives you something to think about, doesn’t it? I have to get to work now, but good luck with the unpacking. Take it slow and don’t lift anything too heavy.” And with those as my parting words, I stalk out of the room toward my office, slip in my earbuds to drown her out, and get to work.
CHAPTER 18
Five more days.
In five days, Luke will be back home, and I’m praying I don’t kill her before then. It’s not looking good.
I’m being a little dramatic, but I can’t stand living with Michelle. I can’t exactly confess that to Luke since I approved this from the start, but she’s a terrible roommate. She doesn’t just leave wet coffee spoons in the sugar bowl, though she does do that after jumping on the defensive to say she’s just having one cup of decaf since too much caffeine is bad for the baby.
She apparently knows everything about everything because she reads blog posts about mom life, she’s the first person ever to get nauseous during pregnancy, and she’s more worried about whether her child will be attractive than smart.
She also listens to awful music way too loudly—so loudly, in fact, that even Pepper runs outside just to get away from it. It’s a huge house, yet I can still hear the beat of the bass in my office. Is that good for the baby?
I’m trying to be supportive here, but I’m realizing far too late that I should’ve put up a much, much bigger fight about her moving in. Nicki was right.
At least I can still drink, unlike poor Michelle who’s apparently also the first person who ever had to give up alcohol during pregnancy and it’s just the worst thing in the world—except for her aching feet.
I roll my eyes about four hundred thousand times a day, and I leave the house to work at Starbucks just to get away from her.
Four more days.
In four days, Luke will be back home, and I’ve had to sit on my hands so I don’t strangle her. But Luke arranged for me to go with her to her next doctor’s visit today, and I’m going in with a question.
“You don’t have to come into the actual exam room with me,” she says when her name is called by the nurse.
“Oh, that’s okay. I’d love to come.” I give her the sweet smile that I’ve started referring to in my own mind as my Michelle smile.
The doctor walks in and eyes me.
“This is Ellie,” Michelle says.
“Hi. The wife of the father.” I give a little wave.
The doctor’s brows dip a little, but she doesn’t say anything. I imagine she’s seen far worse in this room. “I’m Dr. Pruitt,” she says, and she moves to examine Michelle. I turn away to give her privacy.
“Any questions?” the doctor asks at the end of the exam. She glances at me as if to ask if I have questions, too.
“Yes, I have one,” I say. “How invasive is a paternity test?”
“Totally non-invasive and safe for both the baby and the mother with a simple blood draw. We’ll need the father’s blood, too, for comparison. Are you interested?” Dr. Pruitt asks.
“Yes,” I say at the same time Michelle says, “No.” Both of us are firm.
“It’s just...we’re not totally sure that my husband is the father seeing as how he doesn’t even remember the night Michelle says she got pregnant.” I wrinkle my nose and say it under my breath like I’m revealing a little hush-hush secret.
Dr. Pruitt nods with understanding. “I see. Michelle, you have to get a blood draw today anyway. If you’re interested, they can grab an extra vial for paternity testing while you’re back there.”
“I, uh...” Michelle says, sputtering a little. “I’m just terrified of needles. I’d rather not.”
“You’ll be fine,” I say, my voice flat. “They have to draw anyway, so let’s just get it done, okay?”
The doctor looks back and forth between us. “It’s not my place to get involved, but I also can’t watch someone coerce my patient into something she doesn’t want to do,” she says to me.
“I’m sorry,” I lie. “Michelle, do you have some reason why you’re not okay with getting this test done? I’m sure Luke would love to know.”
Michelle sighs. “No, it’s fine. Let’s just get it over with.”
The doctor nods. “You can go back to the lab for your bloodwork. I’ll put in the paperwork for an extra vial.”
“Thank you, Dr. Pruitt,” Michelle says softly.
The doctor glances at me again before looking back at Michelle. “Would you like to talk privately, Ms. Bennett?”
“No, it’s fine,” she says softly, her tone full of reluctance.
“Would you excuse us?” Dr. Pruitt says to me.
I hold up both hands. “Of course,” I say, and I exit the room.
They talk for a few brief moments, and then the doctor exits. She brushes past me without another glance.
Michelle emerges a minute later and we walk back to the lab together. She draws in a few deep breaths. She really is scared to get this bloodwork done.
“It’s okay,” I say to her. “No big deal. Just don’t look at the needle and you’ll be fine.”
She glares at me. Whatever. I was just trying to be helpful.
Her name is called, and she’s all shaky when she walks up to get her blood taken. I watch through the window as they put the elastic band on her arm and tap around for a vein. She closes her eyes and turns away when they insert the needle.
“Stop!” she yells after a few seconds. “Stop. I’m going to pass ou...” the end of her sentence trails off as she actually does pass out.
My heart races as I watch the phlebotomists rush around as they get her cold water, removing the needle from her arm and bandaging it up. They reposition her with her head between her legs as she comes to, and my heart rate starts to even out when I see that she’s fine.
They only got one vial—the routine one they needed for her test, not the extra one we requested.
There goes another chance to find out whether Luke is really the father, and with the chance goes my hopes right down the drain.
And it’s not just that.
I feel like shit for making her pass out.
I drive her car back home, and I make her dinner, and by make her dinner, I mean I reheat something Debbie left for us. By the time she’s done eating and leaves her plate on the kitchen table like I’m her maid, well, I’m done feeling bad.