Page 108 of The Don’s Omega

She offers a reassuring smile. “You did nothing wrong. That’s not uncommon. You’d probably never heard of HOCM. I want to run tests because I believe in erring on the side of precaution.”

“Okay,” I say.

“What kind of tests will you do?” Marcello asks.

She glances at him. “I’d want an EKG and an echocardiogram for Elio. Depending on what your brother’s doctors found, they may also recommend genetic counseling.”

“Genetic counseling?” I repeat nervously.

“It sounds more frightening than it is.”

Marcello’s meets my gaze and he gives me an encouraging smile. “Whatever is needed, we’ll do it, mio. Don’t worry.”

I swallow hard. “I… I just don’t want anything to be wrong with the baby.”

Dr. Vasquez’s gaze is empathetic. “Don’t stress ahead of time, Elio. We’ll keep a close eye on fetal development as we go. This isn’t the same as saying your baby has a heart problem. But family history matters, so I may recommend a fetal echocardiogram later in the pregnancy, just to look carefully at the baby’s heart.”

My throat feels tight. “So I shouldn’t be worried?”

“Nope. You should be informed,” she says gently. “Those are not the same thing.”

Marcello stands and moves to me as if he can’t help himself. He rubs my back, his eyes dark. “It’s going to be okay, mio. I promise you. I’ll protect you and our child, no matter what.”

My heart squeezes. “I know you will try, Marcello.”

“I won’t just try,” he says, frowning. “I’ll make sure you and the child are safe. Trust me, okay?”

“I do trust you.” I’m not lying. I trust Marcello. But I’m also well aware that sometimes in life there are things that even money can’t fix.

He sits down again and Dr. Vasquez smiles.

“It’s so nice to see the alpha taking part in caring for the omega. I can’t tell you how many omegas come to these appointments alone. The alphas care, but they don’t always think to accompany the omegas.”

Marcello frowns. “Of course I want to be here. I can’t believe any alpha wouldn’t be.”

She raises her brows. “As I said, you’re an anomaly, Don Foschini.”

The physical exam is brief and professional. She listens to my heart and lungs, palpates my abdomen, checks my throat and ears. Her hands are warm and her manner is steady and I find myself relaxing despite my nerves.

The doctor leaves and the nurse returns to take my blood. I look away when the needle goes in, gritting my teeth.

“All done.” The nurse labels the vials and packs them away. “Results will be back in forty-eight hours. We’ll call you.”

Dr. Vasquez returns with a bottle of prenatal vitamins and a small stack of printed information. She hands me the vitamins and sets the papers on the counter.

“Take one every day with food. Stay hydrated. Eat well. Rest when you can.” She folds her hands. “At this stage, the most important things are nutrition, sleep, and reducing stress. I know that last one isn’t always possible, but do your best.”

She looks at Marcello when she says the stress part, and there’s something pointed in it. Not accusatory, just a doctor who knows exactly what world her patient lives in and wants the stress mitigated if possible.

“Any questions?” she asks.

“When do I come back?”

“Eight weeks. We’ll schedule it before you leave, along with the EKG and an echocardiogram. Eight weeks is when we do the first real ultrasound, hear the heartbeat, and get a clearer picture of how things are developing.” She stands and shakes my hand again. “As far as I can tell, you’re healthy, Elio. Everything I see today looks excellent. This is a good start.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

She nods to Marcello and leaves. I change back into my clothes. Marcello stands and waits by the door, saying nothing, but when I’m dressed and reach for the vitamins on the counter, his hand covers mine briefly. I look up at him.