The Billionaire's Pregnant Virgin

Chapter 7: Doctors and Delicious Food

The paper over the exam table crunches beneath me as I readjust myself. I've never felt this nervous in a doctor's office before, but how can I not be with the most gorgeous man in the world sitting beside me?

I look away from my knees to steal a glance at Devin in a nearby chair. His posture is relaxed and comfortable, the opposite of my rigidly-upright spine and trembling knee.

Afraid he'll catch me looking, I turn my head to the posters on the walls of the exam room.

A diagram of a baby growing inside a womb draws my attention the quickest. A knot appears in my throat as I remember for the millionth time exactly why I'm here and what's about to happen to me.

It's then that a large hand reaches for mine.

I turn quickly, brown hair bouncing in my wake. Even though he's the only other person in the room, I'm still surprised that the hand grasping mine belongs to Devin Cromwell.

"Hey." His low voice rumbles in his throat. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise."

An electric current runs through my body. Warmth floods my cheeks and a fluttering takes over my lower stomach.

I must be really horny to get this turned on by my boss, I think to myself.

Before I can respond to his shockingly kind words, someone knocks on the door.

"C-Come in," I squeak.

The door opens and Devin removes his hand from mine, unfortunately. A man in a white lab coat walks in with a manila folder under his arm. He bobs his head to me, then again to Devin, and pulls out a rolling stool to sit on.

"Hello, Isabel. I'm Doctor Peters," he says in a cheery voice. I see him take a second glance at the file in his arms, as if to make sure he got my name correct. "I understand you're to be the Cromwells' surrogate."

"I-I am," I stammer. It takes everything out of me not to look back at Devin on the other side of the room.

"Great," Doctor Peters replies. "I'm sure you'll be excited to get the ball rolling, then."

I feel Devin's eyes on the back of my neck, but I stay facing the doctor. "Yep," I chirp.

"That's what we like to hear. Mrs. Cromwell has started her own treatments and things are looking very good so far. Now it's your turn," Doctor Peters tells me. "Have you read the material you were provided?"

I nod my head, knot still stuck in my throat.

"Wonderful. Any questions before we get going?"

I part my lips to respond.

"Yes, actually."

I finally turn my head. I was not expecting to see Devin leaning forward in his seat, one finger lifted in the air, but there he is.

The doctor swivels in his stool to face Devin. "Go ahead."

"About how long does it typically take for the process to start working?" Devin begins.

He gets his answer immediately, but I'm too focused on the way his forehead creases to pay attention to the doctor's words. There's something there in his face as he and the doctor continue the conversation, something I recognize as a genuine interest and concern.

Devin's invested, and it takes me aback.

I remember how disinterested he looked at teatime, back when Catriona told me I wasn't allowed to have sugar. He couldn't have wanted to be anywhere else more that day. But here he was, asking the doctor question after question about what he and his wife were putting me through.