The Baby Donor: A Small Town Second Chance Pregnancy Romance (Everything for Love Book 4) by Jenna Gunn

Author:Jenna Gunn [Gunn, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-19T16:00:00+00:00

18

“You’re four weeks along,” the doctor says with a smile before she sends me out. “Call me if you need anything, or if anything changes.”

I’m alone, a rarity for me. Brianna asked for the weekend off, and Val is showing her art in a small show out of town. It’s actually nice to be alone with my thoughts for a change.

I head to the nearest supermarket and go straight to their pharmacy section. I read somewhere a while back that prenatal vitamins should ideally be taken before conception, so I’ve been taking one a day for a good while now. But now I want more. I need calcium, I need vitamin B6, I need iron. And while I’m here, I might as well shop for some groceries; I’ve researched pregnancy meal plans, and I need several things that I don’t already have.

Over the weekend, I prep my meals for the week - including lots of fish, flax seeds, chia seeds, and walnuts for those omega-3 fatty acids - and modify my exercise routine. I have a treadmill set up in my study that’s been collecting dust; I start using it twice a day for fifteen minutes each. I’m excited. I’m pregnant, I’m having a baby, and I want to take care of myself so that this baby has the best chance possible.

Sunday night I go to sleep with a smile.

Monday morning I wake up and rush headlong into the bathroom to vomit up the healthy dinner I had last night.

Morning sickness, I think even as I heave up the contents of my stomach. I can’t help but think of all the money wasted.

The vomiting takes a lot out of me; I sit down on the cool tile of my bathroom floor and lean my head against the wall, gasping. This is ridiculous. I should be able to get over this. But my stomach churns every time I even shift my weight; I throw up again as I try to stand up.

“Phone,” I gasp to no one in particular. I don’t know how long this is going to last, and there’s a minute chance it may be the flu. I don’t want anyone to get sick. I try to stand, retch again, and settle for crawling weakly out of the bathroom and toward my bedroom to get my phone.

I’ve barely been up for half an hour and I’m already exhausted. I flop down onto my bed and grab my phone off the nightstand to fire off a text to Brianna. Take today off, too, it reads. I’m taking a sick day.

I call my boss. Mr. Roberts’s secretary picks up the phone with her usual jovial greeting, “Mr. Roberts’s office, this is his secretary speaking, how may I assist you?” Her drawl is pleasant to my ears.

“Hi, Mrs. Baker,” I croak, my throat raspy from the vomiting.

“Hello,” she says uncertainly.

“It’s Catherine King.”

She gasps. “Ms. King! You don’t sound like yourself; I didn’t recognize your voice! I’m so sorry! What can I do for you today?”

“I’m sick,” I tell her, probably stating the obvious.

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