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Crew came in then and asked, “Mommy get sick again?”
I nodded at him.
He smiled a sleepy smile and nodded, “Cereal this morning.”
I nodded back and then once I helped her stand and wash her mouth out, I made Crew and me a bowl of cereal and then Aliyah some toast with grape jelly on it.
We had just dropped Crew at daycare and then started for the campus doctor’s office. She had told me that’s where she found out we were pregnant, but then she told me that she wanted to go to a different doctor.
“What do you mean, you’re going to a different doctor?” I asked her.
I saw her bite her bottom lip. I knew she didn’t really want to tell me, but she knew me. She knew I wouldn’t let this go.
Then she told me. The way the doctor had looked at her in the office. The things she had said to her during her appointment.
And when she told me what she overheard the doctor say as she left the office, I was livid about it all.
I knew she saw the tick in my jaw. The way my fists were clenched on the steering wheel.
So, I asked her, “Didn’t you say we are going to be getting to your doctor's appointment thirty minutes early?”
She gulped, “Uh… yes.”
I nodded, “And the other doctor is across the street?”
She gulped again, her eyes flashing with worry, “Umm.”
And then I was putting on my blinker and crossing traffic, horns blowing, middle fingers in the air, but I didn’t give a good goddamn.
The moment we made it into the parking lot, I slammed the truck in park, looked at her, and asked, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that happened after the game? Or hell, even the weeks that followed up to this appointment?”
She had only told me that the other doctor had been rude to her, so she found a different one, and today was their earliest appointment.
She swallowed, “You’ve been getting your head right for the playoffs. I didn’t want to interrupt that. You love football. And I didn’t want you to be thinking about that and not what you needed to do.”
I looked down at my hand that was still on the wheel and then over to her, “For future reference, sweetheart. Take these words and burn them in your brain for me. I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. What. I. Am. Doing. If someone is mean to you. Rude to you. Disrespects you. You call me fucking immediately, and if I don’t answer, you blow up my teammates’ phones. You blow up the coach's phone. I don’t care. You need me, you fucking get me. I don’t even care if I’m in the middle of a game. I love football, baby. But I fucking love you more. I love you and Crew so fucking much that if I needed to give you every organ in my body to keep the two of you alive, I’d tell them to grab that scalpel and get to cutting.”
And with that, I turned the truck off, got out, rounded the hood, and then opened her door for her.
With my hand held out to help her down, she whispered, “I love you too, Daemon. So very fucking much. And Crew loves you too.”
I nodded at her.
Then I wrapped my arm around her waist, shut the door, and then we walked to the doctor’s office, and once we were inside I headed for the front desk, looked down at Aliyah and asked, “What’s her name?”
“Doctor Mitchell,” she said quietly.
The woman at the desk eyed me up and down, lust in her eyes, and before she could open her mouth, I threw my hand up and snapped, “Before you say a word and disrespect the woman at my side, I am taken. Fucking happily taken. Now, remove that look from your eyes before my pregnant woman jumps over the counter and backhands you across the face.”
The woman looked from me to Aliyah and swallowed, then nodded, then I said, “I need to see Doctor Mitchell. Immediately.”
She nodded, either seeing how serious I was or she read that something was seriously wrong.
She scurried off and then returned five minutes later, with a woman in a white lab coat.
“Is that her?” I asked Aliyah.
She nodded at my side.
