He roughly kissed her mouth and said, “I told you I wouldn’t be gentle.” He rested a palm over her belly button. “Mine,” he whispered.
“There’s no question about that,” she groaned, feeling satisfied.
Tangled and kissing, Gwen stayed buried in Andrew’s arms. They were wound so tight around her, she couldn’t tell which was right or left. It didn’t matter though.
His face skidded down her neck and he took deep breaths. “You smell so good.”
“I think part of that scent is you at this point,” she said.
He moved some loose hairs out of her eyes. “Are you saying I sweat a lot?”
“That’s not what I meant.” She took his hand and put it on her stomach. “Here. It’s you.”
“You have no idea how this makes me feel. That inside you...” Emotion got the better of him.
His lips found hers, sweet, and a playful tongue tousled with hers, gearing up for more.
Oh, these next eight months were going to be fun.
The next morning, traffic was light, and despite the snow piled up on the side of the Expressway, the Cadillac sailed into the city.
In front of Prada, Gwen turned to Andrew in the car. “When will you be in the office?”
He dipped a bushy brow over a tired eye. “I have to bring this car back to my mom. Pick up my suitcases...” He began counting on his hand. “Then I have to go home, drop off laundry, dry cleaning. I don’t even remember if I paid my rent. I have to go to Flagship. My report is still due. And I have...other errands to take care of.”
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” she said with a teasing kiss.
“Nope. I’ll be in before the day is over.” He took her hand. “And when we get back to my place tonight, we’ll...figure stuff out.”
Figure stuff out. The words hung in the air. “Andrew, me being pregnant doesn’t mean we have to automatically—”
“I know. Just trust me. By the end of the day, you’ll see.”
“I do trust you.” She held his face to kiss him while his hands gripped the leather-bound steering wheel.
His tongue delicately swirled in her mouth, but he stopped. “Now, get out of the car.”
She hopped out and the Cadillac drove off leaving Gwen a few feet from the curb. The air smelled sweet and the sun had risen enough to sparkle against the glass of Prada’s building. She touched her stomach. A wave of satisfaction swelled inside her. She had a job she loved, a man she loved, and a baby on the way.
It was Gwen’s turn to have it all.
She skipped to the curb and jumped over a pile of snow, cleanly making it over the mound.
“Good morning,” she said to the guards inside the building.
Her cell phone ringing stopped her from getting on the elevator. The number on the screen sent a tiny chill through her—the breast surgeon’s office. Her hands quivered. If it was Sylvie calling, then everything was all right. Surgeons didn’t make their receptionists deliver bad news.
Gwen swiped the call to answer. “Hello?”
“Ms. Foley?”
Gwen’s shoulders relaxed. She’d have to notify them of her name change. ASAP. “Hi, Sylvie.”
“Dr. Jesse will be on vacation for the rest of the year starting tomorrow. I’m just calling patients to let them know.”
“Okay, thanks.” Gwen, with her problems, probably meant she’d been on Dr. Jesse’s speed dial.
“Wait!” Getting an appointment to see the surgeon could take months. This pregnancy may affect all the tests they loved to do on her. “Um, Sylvie, is Dr. Jesse available to speak on the phone for a few minutes today? There’s something I’d like to discuss with her.”
Papers rustled. “She had a cancelation for eleven o’clock. Do you want to come in?” Phone calls were free. Visits were not.
Gwen sighed. “Sure. I’ll see you soon.”
The screen went dark. She brought up Andrew’s number, ready to send a text telling him where she’d be, but paused. It wasn’t fair to sneak off to her surgeon and not tell him. But...
“I’ll make that my New Year’s resolution,” she said to herself and dropped the phone in her bag.
Stepping into Dr. Jesse’s waiting room later that morning, Gwen murmured to herself, “I should have had some questions prepared.”
Internet research on mammograms during pregnancy left her conflicted and confused. It was best to get the doctor’s opinion on the matter.
“Any changes since the last visit?” Sylvie asked in a gentle voice.
Gwen opened her mouth, but closed it. Oh boy, how her life had changed since the last biopsy.
She’d rather discuss it with Dr. Jesse first. “No.”
“Take a seat, Ms. Foley.”
She sat down, grabbed a nearby People magazine and scanned a few pages, but closed it unable to concentrate. The miscarriage had been nagging at Gwen since she’d read the pee-stick. She’d not missed one period since, and she worried there might be more nefarious things going on in her body than breast calcifications.
“Ms. Foley, we’re ready for you.”
Gwen tossed the magazine and followed Sylvie to one of the small exam rooms. Inside, she pointed to the paper gown and said, “You know what to do.”
After a few minutes, Dr. Jesse breezed in. Now Greg would like her. Beautiful auburn hair sat on slender shoulders and around aquamarine eyes. Very serious about her patients and not very chatty, Dr. Jesse picked at Gwen’s thick stack of appointment notes and reports from Dr. Sage in radiology at Lenox Hill.
The surgeon tabbed through a few pages, flipped the entire chart over then turned back to Gwen.
“I don’t see your latest report.”
“I had a question...first.”
Dr. Jesse’s expression changed. In the past, Gwen had skipped a follow-up here and there. The surgeon’s hands rested on her hips with a look that mirrored Skye’s when she’d said: Don’t play games with this.
“Well, you see...” Gwen paused, catching her breath. “I’m pregnant.” Just saying the words now brought a rush of warmth tingling across her entire body.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Jesse said with the look of a doctor who didn’t hear those words too often from a patient sitting on her exam table. “That’s wonderful.” While patting her knee, the doctor shot a quick glance to admire the ring that wasn’t there.
“Thanks.” Gwen ran that hand through her hair. “It was a surprise.”
Dr. Jesse smiled and tapped her knee. “It happens like that more times than you think.”
“So, what are my options?” Gwen asked feeling relieved.
“We’ll start by doing this the old-fashioned way,” Dr. Jesse said. “Lie back.”
The surgeon’s fingers danced across the right breast—the troublemaker—like she was playing a piano concerto. Up and down the center and sweeping the sides, bearing down on scar tissue from years of Dr. Sage’s biopsies.
“Ouch.” It seemed only Andrew touching her there didn’t hurt.
“It feels good, Gwen,” Dr. Jesse said with her sunshine of a smile as she stepped around to the other side of the table. “I don’t see a reason why we can’t take a break for a few months.”