The Warmest Winter✓

Forty-two

Silence becomes unbelievable in the car as we head to the hospital.

"I want a female doctor," I whine. 

Liam has been too serious ever since I told him about my supposed pregnancy and it's getting on my nerves. Also, is he treating me like an errant child just because I didn't inform him sooner?

I glare at him, waiting for his response that's taking forever to arrive.

"As you wish," he says, hands tight on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road.

"Great!" I fold my arms on the chest, pouting.

Liam pays no attention. Instead, I suddenly see him holding his mobile with one hand and dials a number. And then he places the microphone in his ear as the call connects, still driving using his other hand. 

"I suppose St. Thomas has got female doctors?" he asks whoever he's talking to right now. After a few seconds he adds, "Make sure that's the case. We're heading over there." He hangs up and I find no mirth on his face.

It's gonna be a long day. 

The trip to the hospital doesn't take eternity. The car pulls over in front of a vast, old-looking and sturdy building—English style. Nonetheless, I remain still, my body reluctant to move at its own accord. 

It's the moment of truth, whispers my subconscious, and deep down I'm still uncertain of my wants. Does being married deem someone automatically ready to be a parent? Now I wonder.

However, despite the fright and incertitude, I'm pretty sure that I'll embrace any outcome. If I'm pregnant my baby will be the most loved person in the world, and if I'm not . . . Well, I have no idea on this one. 

Sighing, discerning that I've been too lost into space for a while now, I slowly unbuckle my seatbelt. Liam is unlocking the door. He grabs the handle and pitches a glance at me—finally.

"Let's go." He exits first and I follow suit through my door. 

My doctor is named Michelle Adams, a tall auburn-haired woman in her late forties, I reckon. She cordially welcomes us in her cozy office, and a friendly discussion begins before any earnest topic is taken regarding my condition.

"So, it's already been a week since your due date?" Dr. Adams inquires casually about my period, and at my peripheral view I see my husband's jaw tightening. 

He's still mad that I kept this from him until now. But I didn't learn about this longer—how can I make him understand this? He drives me nuts. 

"I think I'll leave you two alone." Liam stands up abruptly. Shock settles in my eyes that are gazing up at him. "I'll be outside."

"You can stay, Mr. Darcy. You may be interested in this conversation," Dr. Adams says suggestively.

"Please. I insist," Liam rebukes. 

"It's alright," I tell my doctor as I can read the signs perfectly well. 

He doesn't want to be here.

"Call me when you're done," Liam says and I nod simply.

I don't know what to say. He always scares the shit out of me when he's this cold and distant. He walks away and admittedly I'm somehow relieved. 

"Shall we start over?" Dr. Adams asks with a sassy voice while interlacing her immaculately manicured fingers painted in nude color. 

"Sire." I smile feebly at her. 

"I noticed you weren't comfortable enough with your husband being here, but I want you to be now," she says 

She's observant.