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There was a faint smudge of mascara beneath her right eye, as if she had broken out in tears this morning and hadn’t managed to get all the makeup off her cheeks.
“We do,” I said adamantly, trying to push the image of Sophie crying out of my mind.
I was never good at seeing people cry, especially those I knew well. Vicki rarely cried, and when she did, it would shatter me to pieces. You’d think I was used to it. Witnessing tears in the hospital was like seeing a dog in a park—common, not easy to see but not excruciating either, as if I’d built up a defense, gotten used to it the same way a butcher got used to the smell of raw meat. Yet for some reason, I knew that seeing Sophie vulnerable and broken would affect me a lot more than I’d like. Hell of a lot more.
“If you’re pregnant and it’s mine,” I continued, “we need to talk about it. You can’t keep this from me, it’s not fair, we’re in this—”
“Fine.” She scowled and stood up, dropping her pen to the small table that stood against the wall. “Let’s talk about it then. Let’s talk about the fact that we didn’t use a condom, Alex.” Her gray eyes grew darker, like a storm cloud. “It’s like the one andonly rule before sex. Use a condom. You’re a fricking doctor, Alex. We were inyourroom. You know exactly what happens if people don’t use protection.”
“We werebothabsorbed in the moment,” I said, not willing to take all the blame. It took two people to sleep together. Two people to completely ignore the seriousness of unprotected sex. It wasn’t just my fault, it was both of ours.
Sophie snickered and looked away, folding her arms over her chest. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.” She uncrossed her arms and moved her fingers to her cheeks, clawing at them, leaving pink streaks. “I should never have gone to that stupid seminar. If only Vicki hadn’t—”
“Sophie!” Vicki called suddenly from somewhere in the hallway, her voice like a cold hand sending a shiver right down my spine. “Which treatment room are you in?”
Sophie’s shoulders stiffened. Her eyes widened as she glanced toward the closed door, and the color leached from her face. She quickly flicked her gaze to me, her desperation so clearly painted that I could feel it radiate across the small room.
“Please don’t say anything, Alex,” she pleaded. “Not about the pregnancy, or that we know each other. Vicki can’t know. Not yet. Just promise me you won’t say anything.”
At least we agreed on something. If Vicki found out I’d gotten someone she knew, someone she worked with on a daily basis, pregnant, she’d lose it completely.
It didn’t matter that we were separated. It didn’t matter that Vicki didn’t even want children. She’d somehow convince herself that I had done it out of spite to get back at her. And the aftermath wouldn’t be pretty. Vicki was quick to anger and slow to forgive, her temper flaring up like wildfire and taking ages to smolder. Sophie would be in the direct line of fire if Vicki found out.
“I won’t.”
The door suddenly flew open. Vicki walked in at the exact same moment my mouth went dry and my heart jumped into my throat, forming a lump I couldn’t swallow down no matter how hard I tried.
She was dressed in her usual blue scrubs and cream Crocs with two sunflower Jibbitz stuck on top of each. Her hair was up in a messy yet somehow professional-looking bun, and she wore the same bright yellow smiley face watch I’d bought for her two years ago. It was meant to be ironic. She’d been in the worst of moods that week, and the watch had seemed like a fun joke at the time. One she had appreciated. Vicki may be quick to anger but she had a great sense of humor.
“Oh.” She looked surprised. “I thought you’d be face down on the bed with Sophie inflicting pain on you.”
“We’re getting there.” Sophie smiled, her voice quavering slightly as she fidgeted with the hem of her scrub top. She stepped toward the plinth—toward me—and immediately moved back, nearly stumbling into her chair. “Just getting through the subjective questions.”
It was a wonder Vicki couldn't smell the nerves coming off Sophie. Usually, she had a great nose for picking up on people's anxiety—not to mention their secrets. A nose was as sharp as a bloodhound's.
“If you could please use those miracle hands of yours, Soph. I need him out of my house. I can’t do another night with him ordering me around from the couch.” She laughed loudly and then checked her watch, completely oblivious to Sophie’s eyes doubling in size even when I didn’t think they could go any wider.
"Order you around?" I frowned, doing my best to keep things light, to keep Vicki ignorant of whatever was going on between me and Sophie. "The only thing I asked you to get me was salt. Your spaghetti bologneseneededsalt.”
“My spaghetti was perfectly seasoned, thank you,” puffed Vicki, and turned to Sophie, waiting expectantly for an answer.
“I’ll do my best,” muttered Sophie, glancing at the floor, making it way too obvious that something was going on.
Sophie was a terrible liar. She had mentioned it before, at the seminar, when I’d bumped into her in the corridor. Then, I hadn’t actually believed her, but the longer I watched her body tense up, her face scrunching with the effort of not making eye contact, the clearer it became that we were doomed.
Luckily, Vicki remained completely nonplussed.
Even then, my throat stayed clogged and whatever appetite I had this morning was gone. It would take just a look, a word, a twitch for Vicki to suspect something. It was as if we were walking on eggshells with big clunky boots.
“You know,” Vicki said, stepping to the chair Sophie had sat on earlier and settling into it, crossing one leg over the other. “I was thinking about the joint symposium this morning on the way here, and I completely forgot to ask you about it last night, Alex. You were there, weren’t you? I remember Sam mentioning you were going a while back.”
“I was,” I said with a single nod, not liking where this was going—not even one bit.
“Then you two must’ve met?” she raised a single suspicious eyebrow, and I knew the relief had come prematurely. I knew that eyebrow arch well. Next up was the bloodhound nose, and she was bound to sniff out the truth.
Blood suddenly rushed up my neck and my heart began to beat violently, all the relief from earlier seeped out of me like a burst balloon losing valuable air.
“We were in different groups,” came Sophie suddenly, as if the idea had just popped into her head. “We met briefly at one of the talks. I think it was Advances in Joint Replacement . . . ”
