MERCER?’
The receptionist glanced up expectantly as Kit pushed through the door. Kit nodded and tried to find a smile. ‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Dr Maybury is almost running on time. If you’d take a seat, she shouldn’t be too much longer.’
Kit smiled her thanks. The surgery had managed to fit her in for the last appointment of the day and the waiting room was deserted.
She sat. She crossed her legs and bounced her foot. She glanced at her watch. She shifted on her seat, glanced around the waiting room, glanced at her watch again and finally seized a magazine. It wasn’t that doctors’ surgeries made her nervous. It was just—
The magazine fell open to a celebrity wedding spread with the bride and groom in a variety of cheesy but romantic poses—arms wrapped around each other, staring deep into each other’s eyes, feeding each other wedding cake. For a moment all Kit could do was stare. And then she slapped it shut and shoved it back into the magazine rack.
All that giddy happiness.
She closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. It was three months almost to the day since Alex had so brutally ended their … She could hardly call it a relationship, and still there were images—like the ones in that magazine—snatches of conversation, a scent, that could hurtle her back in time and remind her of her stupidity. Remind her of the ridiculous dreams she’d woven about a man who hadn’t been worth a single one of them. Reminded her of her appallingly bad judgement.
It was crazy too because she and Alex had hardly spent any time together during these last three months. He’d flown to the Brisbane headquarters of Hallam Enterprises the day after his no-nonsense rejection of her and he’d remained there for six weeks. He’d only been back in Sydney for two days when she’d found herself given the fancy title of Project Manager and moved to another department two floors down.
She’d welcomed that change, but … She uncrossed her right leg to cross her left leg instead. She bounced her left foot. She let out a breath and stared up at the ceiling. Was she becoming too hard to please? Was that it? It was just … The project she was heading up was one that had previously excited her. She should be raring to go, eager, engaged. But she traipsed into her office each day as if she had nothing more interesting to do than filing and data entry.
Why?
She was the one who’d urged Alex to pursue the book deal McBride’s Proprietary Press had offered him over four months ago. And she was the one who’d hoped she’d get the chance to head the project up.
Midway through last year, she’d written a profile on Alex for a book titled Australia’s Most Successful Entrepreneurs. That had led to a whole chapter in another book called Advice From Australia’s CEOs. Now McBride’s were launching a new series called From Go to Whoa, and they wanted a book with Alex’s name on the cover detailing a land development project from its earliest stages through to the final development. The title they’d floated was Commercial Land Development: from Scrubland to Shopping Mall. Kit had already substituted shopping mall with sports resort.
She should love what she was doing.
Her eyes narrowed. Had she lost her zest for life because a man had disappointed her? Pathetic!
She slapped her hands down onto her knees and glared at the wall opposite. From now on, whenever thoughts of Alex surfaced she was ousting them out of her head pronto. It was time she started having fun again.
She brightened marginally. At least for the next three weeks she didn’t have to worry about running into Alex, didn’t have to steel herself for accidental meetings in the corridors at work, there wouldn’t even be the risk of catching an unexpected glimpse of him in the distance. A week ago he’d left for a month-long odyssey to Africa. Rumour had it that he was doing some kind of aid work.
Not that he struck her as the aid worker type.
She uncrossed her legs. Re-crossed them. Well, okay, maybe he had three and a half months ago, but not since—
No. She wasn’t doing that any more. She was through thinking about Alex, through trying to work him out. ‘Enough,’ she muttered under her breath. She had more important things to think about.
Like the reason she was sitting in her doctor’s waiting room at ten to five on a Friday afternoon.
She gripped her hands together. If this was what she thought it was, then …
She squared her shoulders. She’d get through it. Adjustments would be necessary, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. This could be taken care of.
‘Ms Mercer?’
Kit jerked around at the receptionist’s voice and tried to smile. Would she have to have a needle? She didn’t like needles.
Of course you’ll have to have a needle. The doctor will have to take blood.
The receptionist smiled kindly, as if she sensed Kit’s nervousness. ‘This way; the doctor is ready for you.’
Dr Maybury was middle-aged, kind and unfailingly practical. ‘Now, Kit, it’s been a while. What seems to be the problem?’
Kit pulled a face. No sense in beating about the bush. ‘I’m worried I might have diabetes.’ She pulled in a deep breath and quickly detailed her incredible thirst, her endless trips to the bathroom—especially at night. ‘The thing is, though, that sometimes there’s nothing, just a drop or two. And I’m so tired all the time. And hungry.’
‘Dizziness? Nausea?’
‘I’ve felt faint a couple of times.’
‘Blurriness of vision?’
Kit shook her head.
‘Well, let’s not waste any more time.’ Dr Maybury handed Kit a cup. ‘We’ll test your urine.’
Ten minutes later, Dr Maybury turned to her and folded her arms. ‘I’m pleased to say you are not diabetic.’
Kit slumped in relief. ‘Oh, that is good news! The thought of having to give myself daily insulin injections …’ She shuddered.
‘Kit, you’re not diabetic, but you are pregnant.’
Kit blinked. She shook her head. ‘What did you just say?’
The doctor repeated it.
She shook her head again. ‘But …’ Her chest tightened, her stomach cramped. ‘But I can’t be! I just had my period.’
‘Some women maintain their period throughout their entire pregnancy.’
Kit could only stare. ‘Heavens,’ she found herself murmuring, ‘how unfair is that?’
Dr Maybury smiled and Kit shook herself again. ‘No, you don’t understand. I can’t be pregnant. I haven’t had morning sickness and … and my breasts haven’t been sore … and … I mean you have to have sex to get pregnant and I haven’t had sex in, like, forever!’
She hadn’t
