"Sophie!"
The doctor from my stay here a couple of weeks ago approaches. "Sophie," she repeats. "I'm Dr. Kallam. I treated you when you were here," she says, searching my face for recognition. "Are you here to see me or Luke?"
Oh, right, she wanted to see me for a followup.
"Yes, I remember you, Dr. Kallam. I'm here to see Luke, but I guess I need to make an appointment with you? I have no idea what I'm doing," I find myself confessing, touching my stomach. Am I already messing this up? "I…" I pause. "Is it okay?" I look at Dr. Kallam for reassurance. "I'm not supposed to be doing anything special yet, am I?"
Dr. Kallam smiles at me. She's a beautiful woman, about Luke's age. I feel a twinge of annoyance that Luke is surrounded by so many attractive women at work, all more competent than me in this baby business.
"It's still early, Sophie. I'd like you to start a prenatal vitamin, cut out any alcohol and caffeine and get plenty of rest. That's enough for now and you'll need to start regular appointments with your primary OBGYN."
I shake my head. "I don't have one."
"You can make an appointment with my office or Luke can provide you a list to choose from. I'm surprised he didn't explain this to you." Dr. Kallam tucks a piece of perfectly curled hair behind her left ear and gazes at me questioningly.
"We haven't talked much," I offer.
She nods. "He's with a patient right now. I'll let you into his office. I'm sorry I allowed you to leave without us speaking, but Luke was very insistent that you have the opportunity to tell him yourself."
"I didn't know," I tell her as she unlocks his door and we sit in the chairs across from Luke's desk. "I had no idea. I've taken my birth control religiously. He thought I knew?" I look to Dr. Kallam for confirmation.
She pauses then nods. "It was really important to him to hear it from you."
"Why? He's made a career out of telling women they're pregnant."
"He has." Dr. Kallam smiles at my description of his work. "I imagine he didn't want you to feel pressured."
"He wanted me to decide if I would keep it without his influence?"
She nods slightly before speaking. "I've been friends with Luke for a long time," she says before trailing off, leaving me to fill in the blanks.
She gets a page then and stands. "I've got to run, Sophie. Please call my office and get on my schedule or let me know if you need a referral."
She leaves, a whiff of her perfume lingering behind her as the door shuts, and I'm left alone in Luke's office. I tap my fingers on the chair edge and stare at the low bookcases along the wall. Above them is a corkboard running the length of the wall filled with pictures of babies, and upon closer inspection, what looks like thank-you letters from new parents. Gah, I know nothing about babies. I stare at the pictures for a moment. They're so small. How does one even dress something that small? I examine the shelves underneath looking for a baby manual of some kind. It's mainly medical journals but I locate a few copies of What to Expect When You're Expecting. They look new, as if Luke keeps them for potentially overwhelmed pregnant patients. He probably doesn't need to read any of this himself, having memorized it in medical school. At least one of us has a clue.
I slide a copy off the shelf and move around to Luke's chair so I can lay the book flat on his desk. Why is this book so big? I'm overwhelmed as I turn to the first page and even more so by the time I reach page twenty. I need to take notes. I glance around Luke's desk for something to write on and, coming up empty, open the desk drawer.
My eyes take in the contents, but my brain is on slow motion trying to process what I'm seeing when there's a tap on the door followed by Gina breezing in like she's entitled. I close the drawer and watch as the smile she had reserved for Luke falls off her face.
"Snooping in Luke's office, Sophie? Have a little class, would you?"
Oh, good, we're going to hit the ground running today. "May I help you with something, Gina? Like the number to a dating service? I'm sure one of them specializes in finding matches for trolls."
"Cute, but save it for yourself. I have Luke." Her face is smug.
"You don't." I shake my head. "You might have once, but you most definitely do not have him now. Because I do, and I'm not giving him up."
Her eyes land on the book open facedown on the desk and I can see a hiccup of terror cross her face. "You're pregnant?" She's stunned. "I can't believe Luke would let this happen, he's so careful."
I want to vomit into Luke's trash can at the knowledge that she knows anything about Luke, much less his proficiency at birth control, but suddenly things start falling into place.
"You had an abortion, didn't you? When you dated Luke, you had an abortion." I don't even need her to confirm it. Everything finally adds up.
"Luke doesn't want children, Sophie," Gina spits. "He's focused on his career, he doesn't have the time or desire for children to slow him down. He's going to dump you and you're going to be fat and alone."
I know she's lying. There's a Wall of Baby with cherubic little faces and handwritten thank-yous from their parents that prove she is lying. The man made a career out of helping women become mothers, the pictures proudly documenting his success. I don't think for a second that he doesn't want that for himself. Yet her words sting, like shrapnel. Even lying words are hurtful.
"I think," I say slowly, "you're a liar. I think Luke is careful with contraception because some troll from his past had an abortion he didn't want. I think Luke respects me and wanted the timing to be my choice. And finally, Gina, I know Luke wants this baby. Our baby. It's over, Gina. This pathetic attempt of yours to guilt Luke about a decision you made by having him treat you for infertility is over. Do you even have infertility issues or was it all a ploy to spend time with him?" I shake my head. "You need psychological help, not a gynecologist. Now get the hell out of Luke's office and my life."
The door slams behind her and I dive back into the desk drawer, running my hand over the contents. I pull one out and run my fingers across the Christmas fabric. Christmas was a month ago—Luke didn't know I was pregnant until two weeks ago. I pull the drawer open farther and teeny-tiny turkeys peer up at me. Thanksgiving was two months ago. He's been collecting a stash of adorable baby socks for at least two months. The kind of socks I'd wear in miniature form. There’s a pink pair, covered in red hearts. Another pair covered in little peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The tiny red and white striped elf socks still in my hands.