Chapter Four
1177 Words
The blast of cold air‑conditioning hit me like a slap from God Himself. My lungs burned, my legs trembled, and I was sweating in places I didn’t know could sweat. The pantsuit was clinging to me like a damp funeral shroud.
Act normal, Jo.
Act. Normal.
I straightened my spine, smoothed my hair (which only made it worse), and tried to walk like a woman who had not just abandoned her car in the middle of the street after verbally assaulting a stranger.
The receptionist looked up, blinked twice, and plastered on a polite smile that said I’m paid to pretend this is fine.
“Good morning. Welcome to the—”
“I have a meeting,” I wheezed, sounding like a dying accordion. “With Beth. I’m Josephine.”
Her eyes flicked over me — the sweat, the hair, the pantsuit that had given up on life — and she nodded slowly, like she was trying to decide whether to call security or a paramedic.
“Of course. I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.”
She didn’t even ask for my name again. That’s how much of a disaster I looked like.
I sat down in the waiting area, trying to discreetly dab sweat off my forehead with my sleeve. It didn’t work. The sleeve was also sweaty. Everything was sweaty. I was a human soup.
“Josephine?”
I jumped.
Beth stood in the doorway, smiling brightly — and, thank God, without lipstick on her teeth — until she took in the state of me.
“Heeey,” she said.
Her face did not match her words. She looked more like she wanted to ask what the actual hell happened to you?
“I ran,” I explained, as if that made anything better.
“From where?” she asked, horrified. “The next town?”
I thought I saw her hiding a smile, but I couldn’t be sure. Spots were still dancing in my vision.
I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, another voice cut in.
“Beth, is this our new candidate?”
I turned — and immediately forgot how to breathe.
The man walking toward us was wearing a white coat, but not the cheap kind. This was the tailored, expensive, I’m‑a‑doctor‑but‑also‑someone’s‑fantasy kind. McSteamy and McDreamy all wrapped in one. He had warm brown eyes, a jawline that could slice bread, and a smile that made my brain short‑circuit.
Weirdly, the face of the man whose car I’d ruined half an hour earlier popped into my head, and my first thought was that he was somehow even more handsome than the handsome doctor.
That’s it. I’m never running again. Apparently, it causes brain damage.
Dr. Adrian Hale.
The lead physician for all IVF procedures at the agency.
He finished introducing himself and was now awkwardly waiting with his hand extended.
I’d seen his picture on the website.
It did not do him justice.
Not even close.
Shit. Wake up, Jo. Breathe.
“Hi,” he said again, his hand still suspended in the air. “You must be Josephine.”
I stared at his hand.
Then at his face.
Then at his hand again.
Why was it so… clean?
Why were his nails perfect?
Why did he smell like eucalyptus and competence?
I finally shook his hand, and my palm made a disgusting squelch sound because of the sweat.
Kill me.
Just kill me now.
His smile didn’t falter, but his eyebrows did a tiny, polite jump.
“Long morning?” he asked gently.
“I hit a car,” I blurted.
Beth made a choking noise.
Dr. Hale blinked. “Oh. Are you hurt?”
“No. The car is. The man is. Emotionally. Possibly financially.”
Beth pinched the bridge of her nose.
Dr. Hale… laughed.
Actually laughed.
A warm, deep, unfairly attractive laugh that made my stomach flip.
“Well,” he said, “you’re here now. That’s what matters.”
No, sir. What matters is that I am one minor inconvenience away from crying on this very expensive‑looking floor.
“Let’s get you started,” he continued. “We’ll run your vitals, do a quick exam, and then I’ll walk you through the medical side of the surrogacy process.”
He gestured for me to follow him.
I did.
Like a duckling imprinting on the first warm thing it sees — though the face of a dangerous vulture still haunted my mind.
Beth walked behind us, whispering, “Please, please, please don’t say anything else.”
I whispered back, “I make no promises.”
This time, I definitely saw the corners of her mouth twitch.
We entered a small exam room. Dr. Hale motioned for me to sit on the table. I tried, but the paper stuck to the back of my thighs because of the sweat, and when I shifted, it made a loud ripping sound.
Fantastic.
I was now both sweaty and noisy.
Dr. Hale pretended not to notice.
Bless him.
“So,” he said, putting on gloves, “any recent illnesses? Surgeries? Chronic conditions?”
“Just chronic bad luck,” I muttered.
He smiled again — the kind of smile that made me want to confess crimes I hadn’t committed.
“Everything looks good so far,” he said after checking my vitals. “Your heart rate is a little elevated.”
“I ran,” I reminded him.
“From where?” he asked, amused. “The next town?”
Beth snorted. “That’s what I asked.”
“Great minds,” Dr. Hale said, winking.
Beth blushed.
The tiniest bit.
I glared at both of them.
Dr. Hale stepped closer, gently lifting my chin to check my pupils. His fingers were warm. His face was close. Too close. Close enough that I could see the tiny gold flecks in his eyes.
My brain melted.
“Your breathing is still fast,” he murmured. “Try to relax.”
Relax?
RELAX?
Sir, I am wearing a pantsuit no woman should be wearing in this decade, I hit a millionaire’s car, I abandoned my vehicle like a criminal, and you are standing three inches from my face smelling like a spa and good decisions.
Relax is not on the menu.
He stepped back, scribbling something on his clipboard.
“You’re doing great,” he said warmly.
I nearly burst into tears.
Beth clapped her hands. “Perfect! While the labs come back, we’ll move on to the psychological evaluation.”
Oh good.
A test to determine whether I’m mentally stable.
I was absolutely going to fail that.
Dr. Hale opened the door for me. “I’ll see you again in a bit, Josephine.”
He said my name like it was something soft.
Something worth saying.
I couldn’t help the goofy smile.
I walked out of the room on shaky legs, trying not to think about how flustered I was.
- Writer
